<?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-5928624439235569829</id><updated>2012-01-15T14:52:30.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>these are the days of our lives</title><subtitle type='html'>This is the story of a girl with one hand.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-281125482675077235</id><published>2009-02-11T00:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T00:07:21.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Long</title><content type='html'>Farewell my online fans. You'll now have to write letters to obtain high class entertainment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go the MTC in 12.5 hours, ahh! Goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sister L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-281125482675077235?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/281125482675077235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=281125482675077235' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/281125482675077235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/281125482675077235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-long.html' title='So Long'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2168269895802848931</id><published>2008-12-24T02:19:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T02:40:49.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Make ME Babies</title><content type='html'>If Rob and I decided to reproduce, here would be the offspring:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBP-s9OXI/AAAAAAAAAEk/m92_VweZt2A/s1600-h/Baby+Baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBP-s9OXI/AAAAAAAAAEk/m92_VweZt2A/s320/Baby+Baby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283286686900238706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This baby looks very unnatural...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBWbqcoSI/AAAAAAAAAEs/I6I8S9W_-bY/s1600-h/Jack+Baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBWbqcoSI/AAAAAAAAAEs/I6I8S9W_-bY/s320/Jack+Baby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283286797753557282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are Sherry's precious black babies (who knew she was of African descent):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBB2N14SI/AAAAAAAAAEc/KS8nU0gB99E/s1600-h/Ethan+Baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBB2N14SI/AAAAAAAAAEc/KS8nU0gB99E/s320/Ethan+Baby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283286444104081698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIA6hQsp5I/AAAAAAAAAEU/Krzz2CxZ5P8/s1600-h/Kate+Baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIA6hQsp5I/AAAAAAAAAEU/Krzz2CxZ5P8/s320/Kate+Baby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283286318219831186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you think of anything better to do on the night before Christmas? I think not. All my fears have come to life in this one blog (ugly babies).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't help myself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIDYzqQF-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/m12YJ1ILxiM/s1600-h/Scary+Spice+Baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIDYzqQF-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/m12YJ1ILxiM/s320/Scary+Spice+Baby.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283289037578180578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what do you know, she's actually pretty cute...(compared to Sherry's ugly beats)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-2168269895802848931?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2168269895802848931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2168269895802848931' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2168269895802848931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2168269895802848931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/12/make-me-babies.html' title='Make ME Babies'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVIBP-s9OXI/AAAAAAAAAEk/m92_VweZt2A/s72-c/Baby+Baby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-1767452078346005708</id><published>2008-12-24T01:06:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T01:08:14.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Rob</title><content type='html'>I thought this was just so beautiful I would just share...to prove my sick new obsession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVHtx5W42aI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ajAwUOER-xE/s1600-h/robert-pattinson-short-hair-cut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVHtx5W42aI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ajAwUOER-xE/s320/robert-pattinson-short-hair-cut.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283265279348496802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-1767452078346005708?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/1767452078346005708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=1767452078346005708' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/1767452078346005708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/1767452078346005708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/12/oh-rob.html' title='Oh Rob'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SVHtx5W42aI/AAAAAAAAAEM/ajAwUOER-xE/s72-c/robert-pattinson-short-hair-cut.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-5130670597988539992</id><published>2008-11-14T23:30:00.021-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T00:38:29.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Winner is...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;Well folks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;, you all I'm sure have been wondering of all the celebrities out there who truly has the best hair. And here is your answer: Miss Jennifer Love Hewitt. I don't care who you are, whether you like her or not, but you can't deny the fact that this girl has amazing hair.  And here is photographic evidence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR50LQRFz3I/AAAAAAAAAEE/HArbO7PoMb4/s1600-h/Jen12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR50LQRFz3I/AAAAAAAAAEE/HArbO7PoMb4/s320/Jen12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268776350764093298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR50BhHG4mI/AAAAAAAAAD8/EPQeGl2UsYM/s1600-h/Jen+16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR50BhHG4mI/AAAAAAAAAD8/EPQeGl2UsYM/s320/Jen+16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268776183486931554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5z7nKRurI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Jti3UuFHMlQ/s1600-h/Jen+15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5z7nKRurI/AAAAAAAAAD0/Jti3UuFHMlQ/s320/Jen+15.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268776082031622834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zyjHWeQI/AAAAAAAAADs/6EvoddQ18ZI/s1600-h/Jen+14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zyjHWeQI/AAAAAAAAADs/6EvoddQ18ZI/s320/Jen+14.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775926326786306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zr5gH5VI/AAAAAAAAADk/kKh_bWIa9jg/s1600-h/Jen+13.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zr5gH5VI/AAAAAAAAADk/kKh_bWIa9jg/s320/Jen+13.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775812077184338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zk615ZqI/AAAAAAAAADc/etalMc36APk/s1600-h/Jen+11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zk615ZqI/AAAAAAAAADc/etalMc36APk/s320/Jen+11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775692177860258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5ze0xxTlI/AAAAAAAAADU/Fbpmzq696cQ/s1600-h/Jen+10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5ze0xxTlI/AAAAAAAAADU/Fbpmzq696cQ/s320/Jen+10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775587470724690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zYYPDS1I/AAAAAAAAADM/Sou4i1KiWrc/s1600-h/Jen+9.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 202px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zYYPDS1I/AAAAAAAAADM/Sou4i1KiWrc/s320/Jen+9.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775476729695058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zTLrCF7I/AAAAAAAAADE/ES5B0edAI28/s1600-h/Jen+8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zTLrCF7I/AAAAAAAAADE/ES5B0edAI28/s320/Jen+8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775387458049970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zMYBLqyI/AAAAAAAAAC8/EIaPZXR2xjI/s1600-h/Jen+7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5zMYBLqyI/AAAAAAAAAC8/EIaPZXR2xjI/s320/Jen+7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268775270513093410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5y7_GCTkI/AAAAAAAAACs/ujlfY0GJKfQ/s1600-h/Jen+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5y7_GCTkI/AAAAAAAAACs/ujlfY0GJKfQ/s320/Jen+5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268774988944657986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5yyaXM7XI/AAAAAAAAACk/yiI2Y04AmE8/s1600-h/Jen+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5yyaXM7XI/AAAAAAAAACk/yiI2Y04AmE8/s320/Jen+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268774824465722738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5ysSn0bjI/AAAAAAAAACc/-ElaRdaEdpY/s1600-h/Jen+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5ysSn0bjI/AAAAAAAAACc/-ElaRdaEdpY/s320/Jen+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268774719308721714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5t2hwZmuI/AAAAAAAAACM/SsfGjYfocz4/s1600-h/Jen+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5t2hwZmuI/AAAAAAAAACM/SsfGjYfocz4/s320/Jen+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268769397611797218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5uDlzJFGI/AAAAAAAAACU/mzGRZawNMEA/s1600-h/Jen+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR5uDlzJFGI/AAAAAAAAACU/mzGRZawNMEA/s320/Jen+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268769622035338338" 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/5928624439235569829-5130670597988539992?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/5130670597988539992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=5130670597988539992' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/5130670597988539992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/5130670597988539992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-winner-is.html' title='And the Winner is...'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SR50LQRFz3I/AAAAAAAAAEE/HArbO7PoMb4/s72-c/Jen12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-7506191830705840152</id><published>2008-10-27T20:37:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T21:01:57.824-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So Many Things, So Little Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have desperately needed to write on my blog for some time now. However due to too few hours and not enough hands I have not been able to.  Therefore, a list is in order for things that are on my mind that, sadly, will not have an entire post dedicated to it.  The list is as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I saw Rachel Bilson at Decades in SLC! Basically made my whole life. I say "basically" because seeing Adam Brody probably would have actually killed me. So I love her and now I want  to drop out of school and watch the OC for the rest of my days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Today is my last day of being twenty. Tomorrow I will officially be an adult, with a fully developed brain, and the ability to purchase alcohol. Not to mention 21 is my favorite number. I've waited my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; whole life for this day (get it...my&lt;br /&gt;whole lif&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SQZ96YFeO1I/AAAAAAAAACE/ef22pEzx1qg/s1600-h/HPIM0326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 188px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SQZ96YFeO1I/AAAAAAAAACE/ef22pEzx1qg/s320/HPIM0326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262031656480291666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;e...)&lt;br /&gt;3) I turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;in m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;y mission papers today! Tomorrow I have a meeting with my Bishop (oh yes, quite a party on my birthday) and on Wednesday I meet with the Stake President, and then my papers are off to SLC, yes this is the picture they will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;look&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; at when they decide! I think it looks rather French don't you?  Greg and his companion think I'm going to Japan (go figure) and this random girl in my ward thinks I'm going to S. America (more specifically Brazil), and I think I'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;m (read: desperately desire) going to France or Italy. I guess I'll let you know if a couple weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;4) Today is Sh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;erry's half birthday and Kendall's whole birthday! Congrats on getting older friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) For my birt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;hda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;y party I will be working on my stats assignment, social psych research paper and reading, and YOGA!  Jealous much? As well you should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) I bought a bambo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;o plant and a Buddah friend. I am very pleased with their presence in my living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all my friends. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your blog stalkings...shed light?&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-7506191830705840152?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/7506191830705840152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=7506191830705840152' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7506191830705840152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7506191830705840152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-many-things-so-little-time.html' title='So Many Things, So Little Time'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SQZ96YFeO1I/AAAAAAAAACE/ef22pEzx1qg/s72-c/HPIM0326.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-3919925264051347161</id><published>2008-10-15T23:49:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T23:55:58.828-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reaction to Tonight's Debate</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I don't know why, but I can't help but smile when I see this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SPbWP0ITksI/AAAAAAAAAB8/cnsJyYJtwqs/s1600-h/Headphone+Baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SPbWP0ITksI/AAAAAAAAAB8/cnsJyYJtwqs/s320/Headphone+Baby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257625182181495490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;First &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;frame: Obama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;. . . . . . .              Second frame: McCain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-3919925264051347161?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/3919925264051347161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=3919925264051347161' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3919925264051347161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3919925264051347161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/10/reaction-to-tonights-debate.html' title='Reaction to Tonight&apos;s Debate'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SPbWP0ITksI/AAAAAAAAAB8/cnsJyYJtwqs/s72-c/Headphone+Baby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-3672850521059862575</id><published>2008-10-11T18:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T18:31:07.562-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oobleck</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My two favorite things: oobleck and Ellen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/amfjWWMg9c0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/amfjWWMg9c0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&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/5928624439235569829-3672850521059862575?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/3672850521059862575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=3672850521059862575' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3672850521059862575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3672850521059862575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/10/oobleck.html' title='Oobleck'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2314846975528971571</id><published>2008-09-23T20:12:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T20:20:36.178-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hope They Call Me On A Mission?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Friends and family,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been having this thought lately...and I'm thinking, "hey, why don't I serve a mission?" So this is the part where all of you say your peace and tell me your thoughts on the subject. I will be mainly relying on higher opinions (if you know what I mean) to help me make the ultimate decision, but I would like to have some input on the matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologize for the lack of humor and interesting facts in this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;More mission thoughts most likely to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SNmjovb28-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/FHy2vOvA0bU/s1600-h/Sister+Missionary+Mall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SNmjovb28-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/FHy2vOvA0bU/s320/Sister+Missionary+Mall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249406761000432610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;Pro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt; Mission&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt; I get to shop at this lovely store here. That's right ladies, it's just for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-2314846975528971571?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2314846975528971571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2314846975528971571' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2314846975528971571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2314846975528971571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-hope-they-call-me-on-mission.html' title='I Hope They Call Me On A Mission?'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SNmjovb28-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/FHy2vOvA0bU/s72-c/Sister+Missionary+Mall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6149844997811887887</id><published>2008-08-08T22:25:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T22:31:32.577-06:00</updated><title type='text'>08-08-08</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Just one question, what is China going to do with two thousand lim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;e green light-up suits, e-bay?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SJ0dXW6nz9I/AAAAAAAAABA/nhPUMYPwKT4/s1600-h/Green+Men.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SJ0dXW6nz9I/AAAAAAAAABA/nhPUMYPwKT4/s320/Green+Men.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232370629200039890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-6149844997811887887?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6149844997811887887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6149844997811887887' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6149844997811887887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6149844997811887887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/08/08-08-08.html' title='08-08-08'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SJ0dXW6nz9I/AAAAAAAAABA/nhPUMYPwKT4/s72-c/Green+Men.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2808163787802922659</id><published>2008-08-05T12:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T12:38:26.389-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Sad Sleepy Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Last 48 hours of my life:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Monday&lt;br /&gt;11:00pm - 4:00am: sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;4:45am - 10:45am: work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;11:30: catching up with my local news&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;12:30pm: food and began watching Mrs. Doubtfire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;1:00: asleep on the living room floor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;3:00: still asleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;6:00: possible relocation of arms and legs (while still snoozing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;8:00: I finally wake up to the darkness of night (so much for going to work out)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;9:00: watch the rest of Mrs. Doubtfire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;10:00: talk to Greg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;11:30: fall back asleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;11:30am: wake up (only because of a phone call)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;12:30pm: blogging and deciding whether I work out before work or simply lounge away the rest of my sad and very sleepy life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total hours of sleep in the last 48 hours: 24, oh dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I think I'm coming down with something--the flu you may ask or possibly mono.  No, no my friends, I think it comes down to overall lack of sleep--I know, not nearly as interesting.  I apologize for the lack of interesting and intriguing events in my life that I resort to commentating on sleep patterns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-2808163787802922659?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2808163787802922659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2808163787802922659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2808163787802922659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2808163787802922659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-sad-sleepy-life.html' title='What A Sad Sleepy Life'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6483711524967496784</id><published>2008-07-26T21:57:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T22:04:45.337-06:00</updated><title type='text'>PS. I Dance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ll thought you knew the real me...well kids, I hate to disappoint, but you ain't seen nothing yet.  This is a little preview of my skills. I give you permission to be jealous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvyzcDpsWI/AAAAAAAAAAw/xKzxbZ8VVlU/s1600-h/Step+Up+2+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvyzcDpsWI/AAAAAAAAAAw/xKzxbZ8VVlU/s320/Step+Up+2+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227538758012350818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And a little more of this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvyiw_mU3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ASrZeqMCLeY/s1600-h/Step+Up+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvyiw_mU3I/AAAAAAAAAAo/ASrZeqMCLeY/s320/Step+Up+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227538471574721394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, I have officially come and and said it...this is my boyfriend. Girls keep your distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvzI0cncwI/AAAAAAAAAA4/P3v37rlf40E/s1600-h/Robert+Hoffman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvzI0cncwI/AAAAAAAAAA4/P3v37rlf40E/s320/Robert+Hoffman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227539125336765186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-6483711524967496784?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6483711524967496784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6483711524967496784' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6483711524967496784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6483711524967496784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/07/ps-i-dance.html' title='PS. I Dance'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/SIvyzcDpsWI/AAAAAAAAAAw/xKzxbZ8VVlU/s72-c/Step+Up+2+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-546292969597935135</id><published>2008-07-16T22:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T23:06:25.884-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ricky Has a Jar of "Munkiyunk"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My father and brother came up from Montana to deliver my brand new car - brand new meaning it's only about two years my younger.  But my mantra being "a car's a car" I take what I can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my brother is eight and he thinks that "poop" and "stupid head" are funny (and let's face it, they are).  We've been up chatting, and the later it gets the funnier things are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ricky: If people were as small as ants they could fit inside my belly button...it would be verrry comfy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all hopped up on diet pepsi, pistachios, and red vines (Ricky's ghost is being verrry generous).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace out fans&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Ricky and I played giant chess and I totally dominated...that's right I can beat an eight year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-546292969597935135?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/546292969597935135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=546292969597935135' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/546292969597935135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/546292969597935135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/07/ricky-has-jar-of-munkiyunk.html' title='Ricky Has a Jar of &quot;Munkiyunk&quot;'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6399229908203949998</id><published>2008-05-12T21:14:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T21:28:37.611-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss Me Much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I figure it is about time to entreat my readers to a bit of light reading since I have taken a somewhat long sabbatical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good News:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'm currently listening to "I'll Follow You Into the Dark" which reminds me that on the 26th I get to go to a Death Cab For Cutie concert!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I can get internet while sitting on my bed!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'm reading Kite Runner and it's getting better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I don't feel like throwing up anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I didn't have to work today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I now wear baseball caps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I made cookie dough (and didn't eat it all!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Greg is getting me the OC season 4 (plus lots of music)!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Bad News:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The twins I nanny for are now in the "terrible threes" which make for very long work days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'm pretty sure I'm aging faster than normal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I no longer have friends that live in Utah (boo you whores)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'm exhausted due to the worst work out of my life (thank you Teresea and all the other SSAFC staff for making my suffering possible)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I just realized I have a nub for a hand (and it's an irreversible feature)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;My computer cord still throws fits&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I still haven't signed up for classes for next semester&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I can no longer watch When Harry Met Sally at will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Eventually I'm going to die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Well kids it's good to be back.  I'll try to fill my blog with memorable and interesting tid bits as much as I can possibly stand to do so.  Have a lovely almost summer day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-6399229908203949998?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6399229908203949998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6399229908203949998' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6399229908203949998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6399229908203949998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/05/miss-me-much.html' title='Miss Me Much?'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-7862703480587398801</id><published>2008-04-01T17:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T20:46:11.057-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Light At The End Of The Tunnel</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's April which means only 24 more days left in Provo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which roughly translates into:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;five papers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;three quizzes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;four finals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;one final season of the OC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The semester is coming to a close, and summer is coming!  That is if it can stop snowing already....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-7862703480587398801?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/7862703480587398801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=7862703480587398801' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7862703480587398801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7862703480587398801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/04/light-at-end-of-tunnel.html' title='Light At The End Of The Tunnel'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-9016169750496050184</id><published>2008-03-23T12:14:00.011-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T17:37:44.481-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook - The Ultimate Heart Healer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R-ahiup2-RI/AAAAAAAAAAg/P9pfRSd4mSw/s1600-h/Just+Break+Up.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R-ahiup2-RI/AAAAAAAAAAg/P9pfRSd4mSw/s320/Just+Break+Up.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181006039347558674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Facebook--the ultimate friend communication website--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;a &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;social utility&lt;/strong&gt; that &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;connects you&lt;/strong&gt; with the people around you.  In this little gem of a site I found the most wonderful ad....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;-------  Take a look at this.             &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glad to know Facebook can be here for me in my time of need....  &lt;br /&gt;-L &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-9016169750496050184?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/9016169750496050184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=9016169750496050184' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/9016169750496050184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/9016169750496050184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/03/facebook-ultimate-heart-healer.html' title='Facebook - The Ultimate Heart Healer'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R-ahiup2-RI/AAAAAAAAAAg/P9pfRSd4mSw/s72-c/Just+Break+Up.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-7222606684376446644</id><published>2008-03-13T21:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T22:14:50.052-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank Goodness For Lone Paperclips On Conference Tables</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Days are filled with happiness, misery, stress, fatigue, and about a million other emotions.  Today's post is focused on one of my favorite emotions: irritation.  Very little things irritate me (that statement not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;being &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;entirely true), but today my irritation senses were heightened, allowing me to focus my irritation more toward the curiosity of such irritable attributes.  The following is a list of irritating observances I made throughout the day, in no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Guys wearing dress shirts, sporting no undershirt beneath, in which the top two buttons are left undone--thus, revealing the young man's scandalous jugular notch.  FYI boys: I don't want to see that, it freaks me out a little bit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Creaky bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Filling old juice/water bottles with water--especially when the bottles have the label ripped off.  Don't ask why, it just irritates me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Greasy hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Loud eating. No explanation needed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lights left on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The words "totally" and "awesome" used in the same sentence.  Twice as bad coming from an XY chromosomed individual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Open mouth gum chewing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"supposably"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The powdery substance on the inside of disposable gloves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;However, despite these slight irritations throughout the day I must admit I found something to make all these observance null and void.  As I was sitting in my last class of the day, so conveniently located on the seventh floor of the SWKT, I noticed a lone paper clip in the middle of the conference table.  At once of course I logged it away in the forefront of my brain as an irritable substance.  How dare it sit there for all to see.  But then, I looked again.  It wasn't some little irritable piece of metal that was intruding on our philosophizing hour.  It was a bold object of honor. It ... it was a lone reed.  A lone reed&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;standing tall, waving boldly in the corrupt sands of commerce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at that moment I couldn't think of anything more noble than that paper clip defying the man, telling paper "keep yourself together."  I thought for a minute of picking that paper clip up, pocketing it, and finding another, equally noble, new home for this little paper clip inside my apartment.  I thought about it again and realized that would be truly humiliating for this defiant young clip to be relocated in such a manner.  It needed to remain where it was inspiring all who entered the Political Science Conference Room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew school supplies could be so inspiring?  Thank you all for your time, may you one day find someone/something that may be just as inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I find a push pin or a staple&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-7222606684376446644?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/7222606684376446644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=7222606684376446644' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7222606684376446644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7222606684376446644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/03/thank-goodness-for-lone-paperclips-on.html' title='Thank Goodness For Lone Paperclips On Conference Tables'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-4200474474417765522</id><published>2008-02-28T02:18:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T03:13:02.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Well no, this is one thing that I like, or rather appreciate, about Provo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love at two in the morning I can hear the trains outside, it sounds like they're passing right by my apartment.  Love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me know if you can think of anything else that is worthy of mention and praise in this valley that some conclude to be "happy." (synonyms ranging from: content, pleased, glad, joyful, cheerful, in high spirits, blissful, exultant, ecstatic, delighted, cheery, jovial, on cloud nine, etc.  On the contrary, antonym: sad).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please let me know if you feel any of these fine feelings while congregating in this marvelous town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sad&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-4200474474417765522?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/4200474474417765522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=4200474474417765522' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4200474474417765522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4200474474417765522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/these-are-few-of-my-favorite-things.html' title='These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-7742178121636663536</id><published>2008-02-24T16:36:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T17:15:17.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stay Awake Don't Rest Your Head</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I couldn't sleep last night.  I really did try, but no good.  Kendall made me start watching the OC, because apparently it's a show worth watching.  So I stayed up all night watching the endless drama of young Californian teenagers.  So this is how the night played out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:00(Noon): started Season One of the OC&lt;br /&gt;4:15: finally went and saw Enchanted (amazing)&lt;br /&gt;7:30: went to see the BYU Philharmonic Orchestra (good job Steven)&lt;br /&gt;10:00: Taco Bell (good job Crunch Wrap Supreme)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:00(AM): commenced AIM chat and continued the OC&lt;br /&gt;2:00: roughly on episode 5 and getting life advice via internet connections&lt;br /&gt;4:00: not tired at all (on episode 7)&lt;br /&gt;6:00: Still not tired at all, my throat is slightly parched, episode 11&lt;br /&gt;6:45: I realize my shorts are on backwards...yes it's going to be a long night (and I switch my shorts around)&lt;br /&gt;7:00: I'm wondering why in the world can't I fall asleep, the sun is starting to come up, and I'm on episode 13&lt;br /&gt;8:00: Ryan and Marissa have been on and off too many times to count, episode 15, I finally decide to close my eyes and pretend like I'm tired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:00(Noon): Wake up to the sound of hand blenders and laughter--let the day begin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live a fulfilling life.  I'll let you know how the season ends.  I should be doing homework.&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-7742178121636663536?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/7742178121636663536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=7742178121636663536' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7742178121636663536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7742178121636663536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/stay-awake-dont-rest-your-head.html' title='Stay Awake Don&apos;t Rest Your Head'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2340282563310880973</id><published>2008-02-21T17:02:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T17:29:36.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>High School Is Where Poetry Goes To Die</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;After hearing this quote in my honors lecture today I couldn't help but laugh and agree.  It was true that trying to decipher meanings out of meaningless poems in high school was the most insignificant aspect of my life.  This is not to say that I never appreciate an occasional poem of Dickinson or even Poe; but I think there is a fine line between the consideration of a couple poems and a forceful memorization of Frost's "The Road Not Taken."  It also seemed that contemporary poems were simply ridiculous and had to meaning whatsoever; it's like the saying: "I understand English. This poem is written in English. I have no idea what's going on."  And therefore after the mandatory readings of poetry set forth in high school, the two have us have parted ways, never really to see each other again. Tragic, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, after this lecture I have come to a conclusion that not all poetry, especially contemporary, is unaccessible.  I have been introduced to Billy Collins and he has forever changed my outlook on life--well at least on poetry.  Collins was the Poet Laureate from 2001-2003, and is basically amazing.  I will now share a few poems.  Have fun and may this change your outlook as well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To begin is Collins use of the Paradelle, what is a Paradelle you may ask, I have such an answer:&lt;br /&gt;"The paradelle is one of the more demanding French fixed forms, first appearing in the langue d'oc love poetry of the eleventh century. It is a poem of four six-line stanzas in which the first and second lines, as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas, must be identical. The fifth and sixth lines, which traditionally resolve these stanzas, must use all the words from the preceding lines and only those words. Similarly, the final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas and only these words."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The parody being that Collins simply made it up)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paradelle For Susan&lt;br /&gt;I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.&lt;br /&gt;I remember the quick, nervous bird of your love.&lt;br /&gt;Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.&lt;br /&gt;Always perched on the thinnest, highest branch.&lt;br /&gt;Thinnest love, remember the quick branch.&lt;br /&gt;Always nervous, I perched on your highest bird the.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is time for me to cross the mountain.&lt;br /&gt;It is time for me to cross the mountain.&lt;br /&gt;And find another shore to darken with my pain.&lt;br /&gt;And find another shore to darken with my pain.&lt;br /&gt;Another pain for me to darken the mountain.&lt;br /&gt;And find the time, cross my shore, to with it is to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather warm, the handwriting familiar.&lt;br /&gt;The weather warm, the handwriting familiar.&lt;br /&gt;Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below.&lt;br /&gt;Your letter flies from my hand into the waters below.&lt;br /&gt;The familiar waters below my warm hand.&lt;br /&gt;Into handwriting your weather flies you letter the from the.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always cross the highest letter, the thinnest bird.&lt;br /&gt;Below the waters of my warm familiar pain,&lt;br /&gt;Another hand to remember your handwriting.&lt;br /&gt;The weather perched for me on the shore.&lt;br /&gt;Quick, your nervous branch flew from love.&lt;br /&gt;Darken the mountain, time and find was my into it was with to to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other such nonsense...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Child Development&lt;br /&gt;As sure as prehistoric fish grew legs&lt;br /&gt;and sauntered off the beaches into forests&lt;br /&gt;working up some irregular verbs for their&lt;br /&gt;first conversation, so three-year-old children&lt;br /&gt;enter the phase of name-calling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day a new one arrives and is added&lt;br /&gt;to the repertoire. You Dumb Goopyhead,&lt;br /&gt;You Big Sewerface, You Poop-on-the-Floor&lt;br /&gt;(a kind of Navaho ring to that one)&lt;br /&gt;they yell from knee level, their little mugs&lt;br /&gt;flushed with challenge.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing Samuel Johnson would bother tossing out&lt;br /&gt;in a pub, but then the toddlers are not trying&lt;br /&gt;to devastate some fatuous Enlightenment hack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are just tormenting their fellow squirts&lt;br /&gt;or going after the attention of the giants&lt;br /&gt;way up there with their cocktails and bad breath&lt;br /&gt;talking baritone nonsense to other giants,&lt;br /&gt;waiting to call them names after thanking&lt;br /&gt;them for the lovely party and hearing the door close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mature save their hothead invective&lt;br /&gt;for things: an errant hammer, tire chains,&lt;br /&gt;or receding trains missed by seconds,&lt;br /&gt;though they know in their adult hearts,&lt;br /&gt;even as they threaten to banish Timmy to bed&lt;br /&gt;for his appalling behavior,&lt;br /&gt;that their bosses are Big Fatty Stupids,&lt;br /&gt;their wives are Dopey Dopeheads&lt;br /&gt;and that they themselves are Mr. Sillypants.&lt;br /&gt;-Billy Collins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgetfulness&lt;br /&gt;The name of the author is the first to go&lt;br /&gt;followed obediently by the title, the plot,&lt;br /&gt;the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel&lt;br /&gt;which suddenly becomes one you have never read,&lt;br /&gt;never even heard of,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor&lt;br /&gt;decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,&lt;br /&gt;to a little fishing village where there are no phones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye&lt;br /&gt;and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,&lt;br /&gt;and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,&lt;br /&gt;the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,&lt;br /&gt;it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,&lt;br /&gt;not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has floated away down a dark mythological river&lt;br /&gt;whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,&lt;br /&gt;well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those&lt;br /&gt;who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder you rise in the middle of the night&lt;br /&gt;to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.&lt;br /&gt;No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted&lt;br /&gt;out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.&lt;br /&gt;-Billy Collins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did!  You can read more of Billy Collins poems &lt;a href="http://www.bigsnap.com/billy.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-2340282563310880973?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2340282563310880973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2340282563310880973' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2340282563310880973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2340282563310880973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/high-school-is-where-poetry-goes-to-die.html' title='High School Is Where Poetry Goes To Die'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2363365501239284302</id><published>2008-02-17T20:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T21:00:29.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Thing I've Heard All Week</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;You are a murderer of love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your talent?&lt;br /&gt;Murderer of love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-2363365501239284302?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2363365501239284302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2363365501239284302' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2363365501239284302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2363365501239284302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/best-thing-ive-heard-all-week.html' title='Best Thing I&apos;ve Heard All Week'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-3456509982175956013</id><published>2008-02-14T13:07:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T13:21:57.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Single's Awareness Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Just thought I'd give a little shout out to all of you without that special someone on this Valentine's day.  As we all know Valentine's Day is SAD: Single's Awareness Day.  I would also like to note that I think today's public displays of affection and intimacy are truly disgusting (repulsive, filthy, sickening, nauseating, foul, abhorrent -- take your pick). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don't you judge me, this has nothing to do with the obsessive flattery, the longing eye-gazes, or even the unearthly amount of pink clothing; I would just like to point out that does it really mean anything when you're boyfriend (or girlfriend I suppose), is standing outside your class with a bouquet of roses with the barcode still on the bag, flowers that we probably picked up at Smith's ten minutes ago, because they were on a last minute clearance.  Not to mention that the flowers are now conveniently located next to the check out stand to grab at your leisure.  Is this what our society has become?  To turn love into a one day affair that consists of superfluous amounts of Whitman's chocolate Samplers and gaudy balloon decor?  Is this day meant to celebrate love, or simply become a dog show, trying to see whose flower arrangement is bigger?  Who has the biggest diamond ring?  Who can buy the most frilly card?  Sellouts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ere go, I would like to congratulate all the single adults across the world, thank you for not giving in to the sellout that is Valentine's Day.  Instead of making today a big show of your "love" you simply are miserable just like every other day.  Truly, today really is SAD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With much flattery and devotion&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-3456509982175956013?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/3456509982175956013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=3456509982175956013' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3456509982175956013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3456509982175956013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/singles-awareness-day.html' title='Single&apos;s Awareness Day'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-65282604155328130</id><published>2008-02-14T00:38:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T02:25:28.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bipolar Provo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The last few days have been quite amazing--referring to the temperature.  I would say a balmy 40 degrees, which is much preferred to the subzero temperatures from the previous weeks.  You can imagine my happiness when I woke up this morning to the sun shining in the cloudless sky.  I threw on a t-shit and light jacket and headed out the door to biology at a quarter to eleven.  however, only a class later, a few well-spent hours in the LRC, and a lecture on the effects global warming later and I walk out to find myself in a full blown blizzard.  That's right friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let it be officially stated that Provo has been psychologically proven to be in a state of bipolarity.  May tomorrow be sunny and bright.  I think Provo weather and my shower should meet, they have so much in common....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also let it be officially stated, by the expert from Michigan University, that in 100 years, due to global warming, wheat will no longer be able to grow in India.  You think about that as you drive to work tomorrow.  I hope you're all ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and finally before I forget, I would like to dedicate this post to my dear friend Miss Rosalind Franklin.  I would just like to say this woman was spectacular, and she got quite the raw deal.  So in honor of you Rosie I give you my own Nobel Prize--you should have gotten it to begin with.  You did the work, I think you should get the credit.  And Mr. Watson and Mr. Crick can just go fly a kite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for the sun (and a society in which women were appreciated)&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-65282604155328130?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/65282604155328130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=65282604155328130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/65282604155328130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/65282604155328130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/bipolar-provo.html' title='Bipolar Provo'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-3046709902743265746</id><published>2008-02-09T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T02:53:47.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Mr. Sun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Please shine down on me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Hiding behind a tree (or massive snow-filled cloud)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; These little children are asking you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; To please come out so we can play with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Please shine down on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; please shine down on,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Please shine down on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Good news kids, I did very well on my biology test and I totally got the extra credit right!&lt;br /&gt;Who won the Republican primary election?  And the answer is....(drum roll please)...Mr. John McCain.  Thanks ever so much, and come again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-3046709902743265746?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/3046709902743265746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=3046709902743265746' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3046709902743265746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3046709902743265746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/02/dear-mr-sun.html' title='Dear Mr. Sun'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6337236029624541648</id><published>2008-01-25T23:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T02:48:01.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Must Love Cats</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" &gt;Sami and I are going cat hunting tomorrow--not looking to kill one, but to adopt one!  We looked online at the Humane Society's website and we found the perfect cat: 3 month old, female, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" &gt;spayed, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" &gt;tortie Domestic Shorthair (I don't really know what all that means, but it's exciting).  The best part of it all, her name is BOOB!  I know, it can't get better than that.  Some say that "dogs are a man's best friend."  Well I say those people are stupid.  I love cats!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. We're watching 10 Things I Hate About You right now, we're crying inside...ah Heath....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-6337236029624541648?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6337236029624541648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6337236029624541648' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6337236029624541648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6337236029624541648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/must-love-cats.html' title='Must Love Cats'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-1152876449435993363</id><published>2008-01-24T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T19:29:25.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good News</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So did anyone grow up watching the Muppets?  Muppet Christmas?  Muppets in Space?  Does anyone know what happened to the gang after say 1993?  Well I have the best of news, I'm sitting in my Western Political Heritage class and this boy, who insists on having his nose as far up the professor's....well you know, anyway, not the point...this boy begins speaking and a realize (drum roll please).  I FOUND KERMIT THE FROG!  he's sitting right there on the front row, six people away from me!  No really though, in all seriousness I realize that this kid couldn't possibly be Kermit (he's far too tall), he's the guy that ate him!   Kermit speaks though him like some sort of medium from beyond.  It's miraculous really.  If you close your eyes it's really like Kermit is sitting next to you.  I keep waiting for him to break out in a rendition of The Rainbow Connection.  It's a truly magnificent experience....except however,  when it's eight o'clock in the morning and the last thing you want to hear is some premi rambling off about that which he doesn't know in a frog dialect.  But I'm sure you as third party observers would find it all rather fascinating.  The best part of it is: he wore a green shirt today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I have found that brings me more pleasure than it ought to: my D&amp;amp;C professor gets really into his lectures.  I'm reminded of an Evangelical minister on one of those prayer commercials. You know, call and be saved.  So he's going off about how we're on this earth to learn how to be gods, and he keeps saying that through the Atonement Christ will be the mediator.  He will mediate us. If we submit our will he becomes our mediator....This all sounds well and good, but it gets better (I know right).  Every time he mentions any form of "mediate" this grown man who has to be around 6' 4'' will literally bend his knees, lowering himself down about two feet, and do what I fondly refer to as the Perkins Boogie--he wiggles and jiggles to music I'm hoping he's hearing in his head.  He actually resembles how I would think a leprechaun would behave once he's found a pot of gold, or the thought of eternal life...  I think what really makes it all worth while is the lack of understanding personal space--which makes it truly awkward for those of the front row (myself included).  He does this dance on inches from my fellow colleagues'  faces.  Oh what fun! I wish you could experience my life first-hand.  But alas, you cannot and therefore I dedicate this post to all those who unfortunately can't come to class with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until something else more eventful arises&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-1152876449435993363?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/1152876449435993363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=1152876449435993363' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/1152876449435993363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/1152876449435993363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/good-news.html' title='Good News'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6411775789063574724</id><published>2008-01-23T01:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T01:30:22.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Sleeping Yet</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Ello friends.  Today was quite the exciting day--I bought lamp for my living room: let there be light (and it IS good), matching blue pillows for my couch, and a new electric can opener for my lack of hand.  I am now poor, but happy.  I have cleaning checks tomorrow so I used the lights to see every particle of dust in my living room.  I didn't clean it all mind you, but don't worry, you unplug the lamps and the dust disappears--they're magic lamps! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can't sleep.  Go figure, I can never sleep.  So i thought I would speak to my fan club, yes, that would be you.  So as I was walking from my D&amp;amp;C class in the Eyring Science Center to my Pl Sc class in the SWKT I heard this girl say, "that was way fun."  Now let's just think about this for a minute...way fun?  WAY fun?  What exactly would qualify something to be "way" fun?  It would probably be under the same category as way dumb, or way crazy.  You would think that the actual adjective would be enough to descirbe it, since as we all know "fun" implies a sense of well-liking and immense amusement, correct?  So what's with the "way"?  The world will never know, maybe one day we'll find out, and when that day comes I'll be WAY EXCITED! (I just threw up a little in my mouth).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my final class of the day is on the seventh floor of the SWKT in a conference room (with an oval table--you have my permission to be WAY jealous).  We sit in our apparent ivory tower and philosophize for an hour and fifteen minutes--on the meaning of life of course.  I sit across from this girl.  I don't know her name.  But she constantly looks like she's going to cry.  I mean really she has the face of a person who at any minute in the class will break down into an emotional wreck of despair and misery.  It's rather fascinating to watch (no wonder I'm not understanding the actual subject matter).  After being enrolled in this class for over two weeks now, I have decided this is her serious thinking face--forehead wrinkled, intense eyes, slight frown.  This is a person who is intense, deep, and meaningful thought.  And here I was thinking she's going to have a mental breakdown.  This girl is the epitome of all great philosophers--Plato, Socrates, Hobbes, Locke....This is how they looked when they began to philosophize.  I wonder how I look in that class...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So apparently Heath Ledger died today.  It really goes to show: life sucks then you die.  RIP you beautiful Australian.  Lesson of the day: try not to OD on sleeping pills...that's a bit harsh, Heath don't smite me. You know I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to bed.&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-6411775789063574724?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6411775789063574724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6411775789063574724' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6411775789063574724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6411775789063574724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/not-sleeping-yet.html' title='Not Sleeping Yet'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6589927693978552000</id><published>2008-01-21T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T12:49:10.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;It's blizzarding outside.  I don't appreciate it much.  The one day we get a break at BYU it decides to blizzard--I'm boycotting the outdoors.  So now that I'm stuck inside I am forced to do homework...some holiday break.  I'm excessively bored.  I want to go see Juno, I've already seen it twice but third time's the charm.  I really can't explain my love of that movie.  Go watch, appreciate the top notes, "get a whiff of those sparklin' top notes!"  It really is the cheese to my macaroni.  And when you go watch it, make sure to invite me! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well lovely children, I must be off, I have many pressing engagements--homework, nap, movie, the usual.  Good-bye fine friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Stop snowing.&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-6589927693978552000?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6589927693978552000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6589927693978552000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6589927693978552000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6589927693978552000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like.html' title='It&apos;s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2358516814875987354</id><published>2008-01-15T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T16:03:42.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Live in Silent Darkness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I sit at home much of my days.  This really isn't a problem since I don't mind sitting or being at home.  However recently my roommate, for the sake of the story we'll call her Becki, decided to abandon the clan of girls that is our apartment and marry, a boy nonetheless.  It was a lovely affair of white dresses (well dress), flowers, food, and dancing--minus the dancing.  While this is all well and good, it has come to my knowledge of how much stuff Becki has accumulated in our apartment these last few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like the expression of ripping a bandaid off--the faster you do it the better.  Well just imagine the largest bandaid in the world and times it by like a million.  This is the size of our imaginative bandaid of pain.  Every few days Becki comes to take some of her stuff to her new apartment, with her new husband.  That too, seems normal enough that a person would inquire of their belongings.  However, I have decided enough is enough!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among the things I have lost in the past couple weeks: our TV, lamp, Buddha, silverware, dishes,  stimulating company,  framed random couples, wall hangings, the foot blanket, DVD player, official mail checker, shower curtain, my shermal friend, some of the better movies of my life, the other Buddha, plus many more things I'm just so sad about I  can't rightly remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we live in a dark room void of all entertainment features.  We have been stripped of our Buddhist religion, while eating out of dirty spoons, and crying into the lack of blankets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well Becki, know this: You make take our lamp, you may take our very television, but you will never take our CHRISTMAS TREE! (that currently acts as a night light)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. This post is in no regards committed to making Becki feel guilty.  It is simply to make people aware of the struggling situation that is really going on behind the door of apartment #9.&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-2358516814875987354?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2358516814875987354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2358516814875987354' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2358516814875987354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2358516814875987354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-live-in-silent-darkkess.html' title='I Live in Silent Darkness'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-7667658811281484714</id><published>2008-01-11T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T17:43:34.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crispy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I went tanning for the first time in a long time.  It was wonderful.  I am reminded of those lizards in the pet shops that have the warming rock.  I think of the tanning beds as my own personal warming rock--that shines cancerous rays all over my body.  Ah well, I figure the sooner off I die, the better.  that way I won't have to deal with wrinkles, memory loss, gray hair, and osteoporoses.  However, not I feel as though I could potentially laid on my "rock" too long.  The color of my stomach resembles that of a pomegranate, and since my stomach usually resemles that of a marshmallow (in both color and shape), I find it a bit frightening.  Nonetheless, it was a lovely experience, and the fact that I had a coupon makes it that much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's Crystal's birthday today so I'd like to give a little shout out: CRYSTAL IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!  She is officially twenty, and now has been married for five months...wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it's another exhaustively boring day in the life of LeeAnne.  I made brownies after my tanning excursion.  They're for my ward party, something I'm not really looking forward to either.  Ah well.  Sami says I can't be anti-social, so this is my attempt.  I think we might try and see Juno tonight which should be fun.  Anyone who wants to see Enchanted with me, let me know.  It seems like I'm the only person I know over the age of five who would appreciate a princess themed movie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decision of the day: When I grow up I'm going to be a princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love your future ruler&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well my good friends, it's been a blast. &lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-7667658811281484714?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/7667658811281484714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=7667658811281484714' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7667658811281484714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/7667658811281484714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/crispy.html' title='Crispy'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-8274179786348704109</id><published>2008-01-10T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T19:12:13.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Hear Is Blah Blah Blah</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm sitting on my couch donning my lovely ribbed tights, leg warmers, and read ear muffs.  I am of course wearing more than that, however, I am only excited about these specific articles of clothing.  I finished reading biology and I should be reading all my other readings for my poli sci and psych classes.  I quit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now sit and watch mindless TV which I'm not even watching.  Kendall bakes in the other room.  I don't bake.  I want to watch Jaws right now.  I've decided I want a nose ring---just a very, very small diamond.  I don't feel like dropping out of school as much as I did two days ago, that's good news. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becki got married, and now no one checks the mail.  She stole our shower curtain four days ago, so my hygiene was going downhill.  Luckily, Sami and I made a trip to Wal-Mart last night and bought a two dollar shower liner.  Thank you Wal-Mart for your child labor in China for making that possible.  However, I have still not showered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really feel the need to go shower now, but we all know that's not going to happen.  As for my last post, I am no longer going to be taking that job.  Far too sketchy for their own good.  The guy that interviewed me never even told me his name.  I had to ask him for it at the end.  And not once did he mention the official name of the company.  Job #2: no go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It smells good.  I'm not hungry enough to make my own food.  It turns out I have to buy yet another book for psych.  I have to make brownies for the ward party tomorrow.  I bought a new CTR ring, I'm pretty much in love with it.  Good fun!  It's the old fashion kind and it's blue.  I don't know why, but I like the blue one.  I never like blue--except for now, and only on my ring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I hear is blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only the lonely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-8274179786348704109?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/8274179786348704109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=8274179786348704109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/8274179786348704109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/8274179786348704109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/all-i-hear-is-blah-blah-blah.html' title='All I Hear Is Blah Blah Blah'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-3337099565518260872</id><published>2008-01-08T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T15:35:52.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jobs Glorious Jobs!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Good news kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am about to interview for a job in about 45 minutes, and I talked to them on the phone today and it's basically set that I already have it.  Oh yes, I know!  So I will now be offering incentives to people who go to a resort in Park City--a noble goal to be sure.  I also get to baby-sit two little girls on Monday afternoons, go LeeAnne and being able to eat this semester!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also taking fifteen credits in school, which is going to be tough.  Three of my professors said that their particular course will be one of the toughest classes I will take in my undergraduate education--if that is in fact the case, two of the three are lying.  I'll let you know in a few months who that actually is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I must get ready for my interview.  It's been real, it's been good, it's been really good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-3337099565518260872?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/3337099565518260872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=3337099565518260872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3337099565518260872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/3337099565518260872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2008/01/jobs-glorious-jobs.html' title='Jobs Glorious Jobs!'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-4806601644166191285</id><published>2007-12-26T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-26T23:33:04.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puking</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So it's the day after Christmas, and I'm laying in my bed, bored to death.  I thought I might as well type my thoughts on here since my family is asleep in the other room.  I spent all today throwing up--talk about a fun Christmas break.  Despite the fact I hate throwing up more than anything else in the world, I figure it's not that bad.  I mean I haven't had the best eating habits recently and it's definitely showing.  So I figure it's nature's way of saying, "LeeAnne let's face it, you've exceeded your fat intake this break, take it easy."  I think that's totally fair.  And the good news is I haven't technically thrown up in over twelve hours so we're doing good.  Although I think death at this point would be kinder.  I feel like my head is going to explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the fact I now eat less than even the most dedicated of anorexics I seem to have enough energy to lounge around all day watching countless movies and finishing the book Twilight.  Which brings me to my next thought.  You know how there is such thing as taste aversion.  I think I might have acquired a bit of reading aversion.  I was car sick when I started reading that book yesterday and I finished today with a glorious explosion of vomit.  I think I may have enjoyed the book a bit more under different circumstances; perhaps not having the puke taste in the back of my throat.  Ah well, I still have the next two books. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think this has been truly therapeutic we should do it again sometime.  I need to switch my laundry so I can have something to wear for Becki's wedding tomorrow.  Yes, yes I know--I'm too young to have friends getting married.  No worries, I still act my age: no weddings in sight for me, well except Becki's, but I mean for me.  Bye for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-4806601644166191285?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/4806601644166191285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=4806601644166191285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4806601644166191285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4806601644166191285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/12/puking.html' title='Puking'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-4020587621014857621</id><published>2007-12-01T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T17:53:42.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Raining...No Snowing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I looked out the window and what did I see?  Rain? no. Popcorn? no. SNOW.  And a lot of it--scattered across the parking lot, sprinkled on the pool side, and draped over anything that can (and did) stand still over the course of last night--including that homeless man on the corner of 5th (this may or may not be a bit of an exaggeration).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have graced the mountains of Utah for the majority of my life.  And yet, i have never become acclimated to the evil that is snow...or basically any weather condition that falls below 50 degrees Fahrenheit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Artistically speaking I think snow is quite pretty when it wants to be.  Of course I'm excluding the times that the snow has fallen on the road, been plowed, covered in dirt, mud, grease, and car exhaust, scattered with garbage, and the end result looks what appears to be a creature from a sci-fi adventure film. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe the only snow I truly appreciate is the one part of the movie Fantasia, when the snow fairies traipse around the woodland sprinkling their bits of frost on anything that they encounter.  I think I mainly appreciate this due to their immaculate figure skating skills.  And since I've decided to be a figure skater when I grow up, it seems to make sense.  (that's right friends, I'm going to be a figure skater, no I haven't really started yet, but Landon and I are going tonight, so I'll be a pro in no time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As to my true hatred of the snow, it's really quite simple.  Snow=cold snow=wet.  There's really no need for explanations.  I basically hate the outdoors when it begins the winter season, and since that season is now upon me, I hate it.  It's like a ... oh I forget what it's called, but it's like "Why is the sky blue? Because it reflects the ocean.  Why is the ocean blue?  Because it's reflects the sky,"  You see what I mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm very bored as you can possibly tell, so I think this is enough for now.  I'll no doubt talk to you later.  Good day sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-4020587621014857621?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/4020587621014857621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=4020587621014857621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4020587621014857621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4020587621014857621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/12/its-rainingno-snowing.html' title='It&apos;s Raining...No Snowing'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-2482499332506424149</id><published>2007-10-24T18:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T18:35:17.529-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm in the Library</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm in the library.  If you want to get really specific I'm in the Collaborative Learning Stations--sounds pretty important right?  Well, no it's not, it's a bunch of computers.  Yes they are collaborating, however am I learning? No, no I'm not.  Should I be learning?  Yes, yes I should.  I have a physical science test tomorrow, well technically it's been all week, but the procrastinator inside of me has decided it would be best to wait for the last possible moment--basically to postpone the inevitable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lucky for me I'm a people watcher, as such I have the noble goal of, well...watching people.  Basically this job entails of me sitting (or standing for that matter) and watching/listening to the people around me.  I have become quite the expert of this job and I enjoy it immensely.  Currently I am listening to two girls across from me, whom I could only assume are studying what appears to be the Book of Mormon--only at BYU....  My conclusion on this conversation is this: These girls are incredibly boring, talking of the proverbs of Solomon and the ideal wife (to name a few topics) and I might as well mention the girl on the right shouldn't wear her hair up, her ears stick out far too much for this to be allowable.  I however am simply a person watcher, not the bearer of bad news, ere go, this comment will be left for you--please use it wisely--if your ears stick out from your head a ridiculous amount, please do us all a favor and let your hair down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl to the right of me seems to have what appears to be a fairly inexpensive plastic box--which what I would gather from the evidence is that in said box lies art supplies or she is an avid fisherperson (PC).  She seems very involved in the task she is doing on her computer--I leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man to the left of me is wearing a stunningly brilliant lime green polo--I ask, who would produce such a shirt?  It appears as though Ralf Lauren is to blame.  Interesting.  This man is typing what appears to be an e-mail.  To whom you may ask.  you'll have to ask him.  I wish I could say I have the abilities of Veronica Mars, but alas, this is one of my short falls--I simply observe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion to my people watching I must say that is has in fact been a particularly boring day in the Collaborative learning Stations and that tomorrow perhaps I will try elsewhere for more interesting data.  Of what you may ask?  That is yet to be determined, but just know it will be life altering. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm off to see a man about a soul--AKA Bishop Davis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-2482499332506424149?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/2482499332506424149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=2482499332506424149' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2482499332506424149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/2482499332506424149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-in-library.html' title='I&apos;m in the Library'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-1017980040667608285</id><published>2007-10-23T20:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T20:09:18.084-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BYU Dentist Club</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I can finally say that I am now an official member of the BYU Dentist Club!  Well, if you want to get really technical I'm not a member at all.  But I got to this meeting and I participate and I'm thinking to myself, why on earth would anyone want to do this?  And then it hits me--well actually the speaker tells us: it's for the money.  Surprise?  Not at all.  And yet we continue with this never-ending lecture.  Slide after slide devoted to ugly, mishapened and miscolored, truly disturbing images of teeth.  Again, I think to myself is the 110 foot boat really worth it?  I am happy to say I have come to the conclusion that it is NOT.  I think I might go into the art of thievery or possibly sell my body for money.  I think either or these two fine professions could be more enjoyable than this fine career I have learned so much about for the past hour and seven minutes (and counting). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To conclude I would like to state the fact that I'm not condoning people who practice the art of teeth doctor I'm simply stating I don't think the dentistry road is the right one for me.  As Robert Frost put it, "I chose the one less traveled, AKA non-dentistry, and that has made all the difference."  Good luck all you future dentists--I will not be following you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;deepest regards and happy drilling,&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-1017980040667608285?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/1017980040667608285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=1017980040667608285' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/1017980040667608285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/1017980040667608285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/byu-dentist-club.html' title='BYU Dentist Club'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-4383005941754514321</id><published>2007-10-21T10:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T10:51:23.094-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gathering of Lamesters</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Sunday Morning Activities:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting round the clutter and mess of the living room all with laptops on laps and as the kids say "surfing the internet."  Kendall and I don't really have a life so we stay on facebook hitting refresh every few minutes hoping to get something new.  Becki follows closely our advise.  The saddest part of it is the fact that we know we aren't getting any new comments, etc so we occasionally send each other.  It's a sad and boring life at BC Sunday morning.  Lucky for us church will be commencing in a little over three hours--just in time for the sun to set...  I'm really looking forward to the spiritual enlightenment.  WOW. (says Becki).  Occasionally Kendall makes seagull noises come out of her computer and it makes people look at us like we're crazy.  I think about now I'm going to take a cold shower (not for that reason) and get ready for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;boring lamester&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-4383005941754514321?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/4383005941754514321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=4383005941754514321' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4383005941754514321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/4383005941754514321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/gathering-of-lamesters.html' title='Gathering of Lamesters'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-5764183898444420515</id><published>2007-10-18T00:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T01:15:02.420-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Searching for a boy in high school is like searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Clueless could perhaps be the best 90s, teen, chick-flick movie in the world.  What could be better than "sex-related dialogue and some teen use of alcohol and drugs," especially when done  by a 15-year-old Beverly Hills high schooler.  If you haven't seen this blessed movie--shame on you.  This treasure of a movie teaches anyone how to behave in a day-to-day society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I will now continue to quote only the best of lines:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Can I remind you, it does not say RSVP on the Statue of Liberty!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well...I broke in my purple clogs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Do you prefer fashion victim or ensemble-y challenged?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If I'm too good for him, then how come I'm not with him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As if!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The PC term is hymenally challenged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sometimes you have to show a little skin--which reminds boys of being naked--which makes them think of sex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If anything happens to my daughter, I have a 45 and a shovel--I doubt anyone will miss you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Under your tutelage she's exploring the mysterious world of bare-midriffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-If it's a concussion you have to keep her conscious, ask her questions:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-What's 7 x 7?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-Stuff she knows!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-I believe I remember Hamlet accurately?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;-Well I remember Mel Gibson accurately and he didn't say that...that Polonius guy did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Moral of the story: go watch this movie, if you need me there just give me a call.  Although considering I just watched it we might have to wait a day or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. I should be studying for my midterms, hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-5764183898444420515?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/5764183898444420515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=5764183898444420515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/5764183898444420515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/5764183898444420515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/searching-for-boy-in-high-school-is.html' title='Searching for a boy in high school is like searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie.'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6251129879899856751</id><published>2007-10-11T17:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T18:07:44.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey It's Thursday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So it's Thursday which kind of sucks, because nothing neat happens on Thursdays except for maybe The Office.  However, on behalf of this uneventful mid-week day I thought I would bring attention to the new love of my life: my cool sharpie highlighter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a vehement reader of textbooks I am particularly drawn to highlighters as a source of...highlighting?  Although the highlighter family extends it's colors throughout the span of the rainbow, I only truly appreciate the yellow ones: I guess you could call me a highlighter racist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I have found through my studying (of highlighters, not of classes), I have come to the conclusion that the small highlighter pens--which are basically the diameter of an actual pen--are amazingly the best things perhaps in the entire world.  I had been used to the thick highlighters that, let's face it, make you want to throw up in your mouth.  However, the thin highlighters have an ease and grace about them; they inspire me to want to read my textbooks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suggest you all go out and try it.  If, however, you still find it hard to study (even with the incredible utensil in your hand), you may simply use it to draw many a colorful pictures.  Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May my next blog be more eventful.&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-6251129879899856751?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6251129879899856751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6251129879899856751' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6251129879899856751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6251129879899856751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/hey-its-thursday.html' title='Hey It&apos;s Thursday'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-6614578382407929133</id><published>2007-10-08T19:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T02:54:19.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FHE--Fatal Human Error</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Today is Monday, which translates in Momonland to FHE-family home evening if you will.  I think FHE could be one of the worst ideas that was crated.  If you have an actual family to home evening with that would be fine, however, I think it's quite ridiculous when we're forced into families.  I suppose I just don't quite understand the importance of being forced to associate with people you wouldn't normally associate with.  I figure hang out with whom you will and forget it.  There's not even a chance of divorce or separation.  So they're coming to my house which means there's cleaning to be done.  That I doubt will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prison Break is on.  I don't know how I feel about that.  I should be typing my paper, since my studying will be disrupted when my "family" arrives.  I have also ran out of food in my house, which doesn't really help my current feelings towards others.  I should really purchase food--that would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. fish died--all of them---may they rest in peace.  However, after Landon dissected them (and popped all their eyeballs out) I don't really know how well they're rested in their graves--which is the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time&lt;br /&gt;-L&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-6614578382407929133?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/6614578382407929133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=6614578382407929133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6614578382407929133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/6614578382407929133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/fhe-fatal-human-error.html' title='FHE--Fatal Human Error'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-8323800556629471557</id><published>2007-10-05T21:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T22:07:12.198-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Night Lights (at my house)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;It's Friday night, I'm bored.  Dirty rap dance party...no go.  I don't like mom's that come and I have to clean, I personally don't like that at all.  It's raining, I was going to go running, but it's raining, someone failed to mention that to me.  It should probably stop that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I would like to dedicate the rest of this post for my love of sarcasm.  I think anyone who doesn't use sarcasm in day to day communication are truly missing out of the fundamentals of life.  People who say that "sarcasm is the lowest form of wit" only says that because they can't come up with witty comments on their feet.  The only reason we resort to sarcasm is because you are too stupid to really know we're using it to offend you.  And if you do catch the hint of sarcasm then you still don't know how to respond.  Hooray for this fine form of wit.  May we all be sarcastic and love life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Avril, you win.&lt;br /&gt;&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/5928624439235569829-8323800556629471557?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/8323800556629471557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=8323800556629471557' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/8323800556629471557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/8323800556629471557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/friday-night-lights-at-my-house.html' title='Friday Night Lights (at my house)'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5928624439235569829.post-483542859498284284</id><published>2007-10-05T11:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T11:13:37.184-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day One</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So this is my blog.  Sometimes I write on it.  I think it's good fun.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Kendall set it up cause she's cool like that.  So now I can talk about all of you and you can read it.  I think it will be easier that way.  Eventually, we won't even have to talk because you can just read my thoughts.  And sometime in the near future the computer will start reading my thoughts and recording them and the world will implode...I'm pretty sure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;So I have fish--it's a long story--and they've been dying alot, which really isn't a good thing.  However none of them died this morning, so that's always a good thing.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm now studying in the library and that's good fun, except for the fact that I'm not studying.  Ah well, writing to my posterity is far more important.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;PS. Greg has been gone exactly 3 months--that sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5928624439235569829-483542859498284284?l=iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/feeds/483542859498284284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5928624439235569829&amp;postID=483542859498284284' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/483542859498284284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5928624439235569829/posts/default/483542859498284284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iwillbeatyou.blogspot.com/2007/10/day-one.html' title='Day One'/><author><name>LeeAnne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14825861823065753919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='22' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Q2ANTW0unJU/R66-9Ch0JCI/AAAAAAAAAAU/bG98T7b2uk0/S220/Cute!.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
