<?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-8196940015332220758</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:39:18.524-05:00</updated><category term='work life'/><category term='who I am'/><category term='what&apos;s on the tube?'/><category term='pissing and moaning'/><category term='single life'/><category term='poll taking'/><category term='lists'/><title type='text'>Little Miz Motormouth</title><subtitle type='html'>living single, approaching 30, slowly shrinking BBW, recovering homebody, unconventional traditionalist</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-3539835963276653733</id><published>2008-05-08T18:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T10:01:45.800-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single life'/><title type='text'>lazy blogger</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It's a damn shame how I've been neglecting this blog. My last post was about a date I went on. One might think I've been wrapped up in a great new relationship that has stolen my attention away from the blog. NOT!&lt;br /&gt;I am doing the online dating thing. But nothing serious has developed. I'm actually okay that I'm just dating casually. I'm having too much fun to be tied down to a relationship. For the first time I feel like I have choices in the dating game. I want to have fun and keep my options open. My social life has been pretty busy lately. I'm meeting new friends and going out more than I ever have. I could not be more pleased. I had been such a homebody &amp;amp; couch potato for most of my life, I finally feel like I'm coming out of my shell. So I may not have much time to blog about life, I'll be out enjoying it instead. Cheers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "&lt;a href="https://ssl/"&gt;https://ssl&lt;/a&gt;." : "&lt;a href="http://www/"&gt;http://www&lt;/a&gt;.");document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));&lt;/script&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4377630-1");pageTracker._initData();pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-3539835963276653733?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/3539835963276653733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=3539835963276653733' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/3539835963276653733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/3539835963276653733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/05/lazy-blogger.html' title='lazy blogger'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-6266640215726282056</id><published>2008-03-28T22:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T22:31:03.278-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single life'/><title type='text'>Dating advice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I have been on a dating hiatus for over a year. Heeding a friend's advice, I ventured onto Match.com. After a slow start, I finally have a first date on Sunday afternoon. Obviously, I'm a bit rusty. Does anyone have any advice, words of wisdom, words of encouragement, words of warning? Anyone....anyone? Bueller...Bueller?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-6266640215726282056?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/6266640215726282056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=6266640215726282056' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/6266640215726282056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/6266640215726282056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/03/dating-advice.html' title='Dating advice'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-171939207824265884</id><published>2008-03-18T22:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T22:19:04.036-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>I love, I like, I hate</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;This idea comes from the fabulous Thinking Out Loud blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://cat-thinkingoutloud.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-love-i-like-i-hate.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;http://cat-thinkingoutloud.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-love-i-like-i-hate.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Keep the chain going on your blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love, I like, I hate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love my mom. She's my absolute favorite person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love music - so many different kinds. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love apple pie, apple cake, apple strudel, apple turnovers, apple ice cream....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love babies, puppies, all things cute &amp;amp; cuddly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love learning. I need to be mindful of that and get back in school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I like playing card and board games with friends &amp;amp; family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I like asking questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I like being caring &amp;amp; thoughtful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I like people being caring &amp;amp; thoughtful to me in return.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I like singing, despite the small fact that can't. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I hate rudeness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I hate cheaters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I hate feeling stuck in a rut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I hate mice &amp;amp; rats.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I hate being misunderstood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;YOUR TURN!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-171939207824265884?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/171939207824265884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=171939207824265884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/171939207824265884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/171939207824265884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-love-i-like-i-hate.html' title='I love, I like, I hate'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-3665419683703922008</id><published>2008-03-04T20:15:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T20:34:30.941-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poll taking'/><title type='text'>TRUE COLORS</title><content type='html'>I have a Myspace friend named Ryan. We never actually met, but we have mutual friends. He's even virtually hit on me a few times. Ryan is a a white guy. He posted a very hateful, ignorant Internet chain message about Barack Obama. It was full of lies about how Obama is an evil Muslim out to destroy America. It even dared quote the Bible to validate the hateful tirade. For the record, I quickly posted a rebuttal to the ignorant post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was disgusted by the message, yet thankful at the same time. I'm thankful Ryan showed me his true xenophobic and prejudiced nature. I wish I could shine a bright light on all the undercover bigots and watch them scurry around like roaches. I like bigotry out in the open so I know where I stand and when it's time for me to go to battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had someone forget who you were and show their bigoted ass in your presence? Were you grateful for the experience afterward?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-3665419683703922008?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/3665419683703922008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=3665419683703922008' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/3665419683703922008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/3665419683703922008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/03/true-colors.html' title='TRUE COLORS'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-1003597613047634028</id><published>2008-02-13T17:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T17:41:49.737-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single life'/><title type='text'>Valentines Day: The Takeover</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's that time again: Valentine's Day. It's tough being single on Valentine's Day. The world seems to be all happy and coupled up. There are obnoxiously ginormous balloons and flower bouquets everywhere but at your doorstep or office cubicle. That's tough. It's similar to the feeling when you are the last picked for the pick-up volleyball game in gym class, except 1000 times worse. It feels like you are the last picked in life. Ouch! There's an overwhelming sense of dread many people feel around this day. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hallmark's version of Valentine's Day is an unattainable illusion for most people. It's a stressful day for lots of people in relationships, not just the singles. Men have all this pressure to buy the right gift and to make the right romantic gesture. Women have to pretend to like that awful gift her dunderheaded guy just gave her. "Oooh, uncomfortable lingerie that's too sizes too small and implies that you expect sexual favors. Just what I wanted!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;According to a recent story on CNN, 40 million Americans have what experts call a sexless marriage (having sex less than 10 times a year). DAMN! The next time you are depressed about being single, be grateful that you aren't in a sexless marriage. Just think 40 million married people would probably love to trade places with you. Single and a little lonely beats married, miserable and sexually frustrated!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will embrace Valentine's Day, but only on my terms. I took the day off work. I'm going to spend the day as I please and top it off with a yummy red velvet cupcake. My Valentine's Day will be a day that I show myself how much I care about me instead of wishing I had someone else to show me a good time. Sometimes when you want something done right, you have to do it yourself! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hope you can reclaim Valentine's Day as a time to lavish love on the most important person in your life - YOU!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Valentine's Day!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-1003597613047634028?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/1003597613047634028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=1003597613047634028' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/1003597613047634028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/1003597613047634028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-day-takeover.html' title='Valentines Day: The Takeover'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-7285638502321519870</id><published>2008-02-06T20:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T20:07:06.350-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poll taking'/><title type='text'>Who's your crush?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Growing up in the 80's &amp;amp; early 90's, I had crushes on the usual heart-throbs of the day. I used to "heart" Cocktail- era Tom Cruise, and 21 Jump Street-era Johnny Depp. I slept under a giant poster of a shirtless Jordan Knight of New Kids on the Block fame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;During the college years I had an inexplicable attraction to Ricky Martin. Gee that one Grammy performance really did change America! It certainly changed my dating preferences. I've been a sucker for Latin lovahs ever since. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;For the past few years I've had a rather obscure crush. He's no traditional movie or tv heart-throb. He's not a Latin lover. Although he is a TV star, few people have bothered to look at him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It's Seth MacFarlane. He's the creator and voice actor behind Family Guy. I IMDB'd the show to check out who was doing the voices. I was slack-jawed when I saw his picture. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R6e_Px5Jl6I/AAAAAAAAAAY/sx8ng08l_rg/s1600-h/seth+mcfarlane.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163305775615547298" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R6e_Px5Jl6I/AAAAAAAAAAY/sx8ng08l_rg/s320/seth+mcfarlane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;He is just so adorable in an approachable real guy kind of way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Of course he's surrounded by Hollywood fembots now, so approachable real guy is probably dead now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;But a girl can dream. And I certainly do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Please leave a comment about your crush- obscure or otherwise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-7285638502321519870?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/7285638502321519870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=7285638502321519870' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/7285638502321519870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/7285638502321519870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/02/whos-your-crush.html' title='Who&apos;s your crush?'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R6e_Px5Jl6I/AAAAAAAAAAY/sx8ng08l_rg/s72-c/seth+mcfarlane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-5986779494906863945</id><published>2008-02-04T19:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T20:20:18.286-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what&apos;s on the tube?'/><title type='text'>My take on the big game</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm a football fan. I look forward to the NFL season evey year. The Super Bowl is always a bit bitter sweet. It's the big game but it's also the end of the season. No more football. ~sniffle, sniffle~ Luckily the preseason starts earlier and earlier every year. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Anywho here's a few of my thoughts on the spectacle that was SuperBowl XLII.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;1. Did anyone notice that the pregrame was an hour longer than the actual game? That's just the official pregame. I'm not even counting the specials that were aired before the pregame. At least all that build up and hype did lead to one of the best games ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;2. Why is Ryan Seacrest omnipresent? It's bad enough he's on American Idol umpteen times a week. He's on E network. He's the New Year's Eve guy now. He's on the radio. Why in the name of all that is good and sacred is he at my Super Bowl? Can't I have one precious thing that is safe from his vile clutches? I can't stand that hideously smug grin on his face. I just want to slap it off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;3.  Girl crush alert 1#&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Alicia Keys was killin her pre-game performance. It was awesome. She used to be stuck behind that piano, but now she's out front with dancers too. She's upped her showmanship. She was looking pretty damn fierce. Gentlemen, you had to appreciate the girl's classy but very snug ensemble. She was very sexy without even showing skin (Hear that Star-tittie Janet!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;4. The Declaration of Independence portion of the pregame.  (I really want to cuss Fox the eff out for this BS. But I'm tying to keep the blog clean.) WTF! Fox can we stop the GD right wing propaganda machine for one GD day so we can just watch some GD  football for eff sakes! Now I have to add to my political causes the separation of football and state. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;5. Girl crush alert #2 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I want to be Pam Oliver. I want to be that fine and still be able to hold my own with the serious football talk.  She's so cool I googled her so I could find out more about her. That's what led to the bombshell of the night. Do you know that Pam Oliver is 47 freaking years old! Daaaaamn. What virgin blood is she drinking to keep her so young and fabulous? I know black don't crack, but either Pam is using some supernatural forces or she has that serious Oprah make up.  Anybody have HD? Does Pam look all tore up in HD? Is she really human after all? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;6. What a game! I wanted the Patriots to win.  I just like the team.  I like Tom Brady. I wanted Junior Seau to finally win one. No, they didn't go 19-0. But they were still a great team. They are great in the clutch. I dare you to to tell me that after that final Giants TD you didn't think the Pats would somehow come back to to tie it up. They've done it time after time. But it wasn't meant to be. The Giants were so hungry, so fearless. They had nothing to lose and they played like it. The Patriots had everything to lose and you could tell they felt the pressure. What a game! What a season!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-5986779494906863945?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/5986779494906863945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=5986779494906863945' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/5986779494906863945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/5986779494906863945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-take-on-big-game.html' title='My take on the big game'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-7277264020419254142</id><published>2008-02-03T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T21:57:50.155-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='who I am'/><title type='text'>Something more</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Lately I can't get this song out of my head. The chorus repeats " I just want it to be over. I just want it to be over." This song plays in my mind nearly all day at work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I'm not in my ideal job, quite far from it, actually. In truth, I am doing what I never wanted to do. When I was a little girl I occaisionally went to work with my mom. Her dream was to be an executive secretary to the chief executive of an organization. She is very proud that she achieved her dream. I'm very proud of her too. I wish I could achieve mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I saw her buzzing all over the building from person to person and office to office. She was living her dream. I was very, very, bored. I never wanted to work in an office. I never wanted to be in the same place doing the same thing with the same people day after day, year after year. Pushing paper around, answering phones, attending meetings, repeating the same procedures over and over was the last thing I wanted to do. Okay, anything involving math and science and blood &amp;amp; guts was the very last thing I wanted to do. But coming in a very close "next to last" was working in such an office job. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Cut to me now, almost 30 years old. I am doing what I never wanted to do. I am an office drone. I have been for almost 7 years. For 7 years of precious life, I have been doing work that I never wanted to do. Ever. How can this be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;When I graduated college in 2000, it be came clear that my mother and I couldn't live together as 2 independent, stubborn adults. So I had to go on my own and support myself. Thus started the compromises. I took a crappy telemarketing job to keep a roof over my head. When I couldn't take that toxic work environment I abruptly quit. Then I found a job where I currently work. It was only supposed to be a brief stepping stone. It was a way to keep my apartment and save for a car so I could moonlight in tv production jobs. That's just what I did. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Unfortunately, 2 financially and emotionally devistating back to back car accidents threw me off course. I've yet to recover financially and I have abandoned the tv prodction career. There was a mourning period I had to go through. I had &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt; invested in that career. God revealed to me that that it just wasn't going to work out. Unfortunately He hasn't yet revealed what I am supposed to do instead. I have always known what I &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; want to do for a living, but never had a crystal clear vision of what I absolutely &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; want to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I wake up every morning and thank God for blessing me to see that day. But then I go to work wishing for that day to be over. My mind is a juke box that plays Sugarland's "Something More" and "Settling"and Keyshia Cole's " I just want it to be over." I am developing an exit strategy. I'm still trying to dig out of this financial hole so I can get a vehicle again so I can attend grad school and have more career options. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Life is hard. For the past 4 years I haven't been living, just existing. So here I am. I feel it's the end of the line at my job. I have to constantly motivate myself to "just make it out the door this morning. Then "just make it to lunch." Then "just make it to 5 o'clock, you're almost home." On Monday morning, I'm counting down to Friday evening. This is no way to live! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Unfullilled potential catches up with you after a while. It becomes a burden. There was much expected of me throughout my childhood. I overcame some personal and family challenges to make it through school and on to college. I remember the day I left for college. I was so excited and hopeful. I was squeezed in the back of our raggedy old Volvo packed full of my stuff. I had my walkman playing Republica's "Ready to Go". I was ready to take on new challenges. I was confident that I would succeed. Sometimes I think I can hear my 18 year old self pleading "What are you doing? We hate this. You are supposed to be more than this!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;I can't let life's challenges beat me into submission. I can't just curl up into a corner and wait for it all to be over. I owe it to that 18 year old to fight my way out of this. I can. I will. It begins now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-7277264020419254142?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/7277264020419254142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=7277264020419254142' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/7277264020419254142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/7277264020419254142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/02/something-more.html' title='Something more'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-5721923318029693749</id><published>2008-01-29T21:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T21:49:04.473-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='who I am'/><title type='text'>Keeping it real...too real</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So since my last posting, I've wondered, "did I reveal too much?" Unfortunately I can't tell who's reading this blog, only who leaves comments. Sure I only got one comment (thanks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;YFNS&lt;/span&gt;). But hundreds (okay, dozens. okay, a couple) of people could have read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Homemaker aspirations aren't exactly high on the list of desirable attributes in the dating world, these days. I think most men my age fear the once traditional gender role of breadwinner and family provider. Who can blame them? It's a a cold, cruel, ridiculously expensive world out there. Who wants all that pressure on your shoulders?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the gold digger stereotype. No man wants some shamelessly selfish chick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chillin&lt;/span&gt; spending his hard earned money on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mani&lt;/span&gt; &amp;amp; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pedis&lt;/span&gt; all the while contributing nothing to the household. I'm not a gold digger. I adamantly believe in each person contributing to the health and wealth of a household.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also doesn't mean that I have no desire to have a meaningful career. I've just set having a family as my top priority. So, I'm a bit of a traditionalist. I'm not apologetic, only contemplative.&lt;br /&gt;That's really the point of my blog, it's my forum for contemplating. There are a lot of thoughts and questions rolling around in my head and they need an outlet. I can't afford a therapist so this free blog will have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But am I creating my own bad press? I am single and looking. My intention was not to try to meet someone through a blog. I'd rather meet someone the old fashioned way, Match.com! But, what if Mr. Maybe stumbles upon this blog and is turned off by what turns me on? Well, it never would have worked anyway. I don't want a guy who worries about what's fashionable or socially desirable at the moment. I want the eligible gent who happens by my blog and thinks "I like her style."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I have to keep being me. That means saying whatever pops into my head, popular or not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-5721923318029693749?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/5721923318029693749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=5721923318029693749' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/5721923318029693749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/5721923318029693749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/01/keeping-it-realtoo-real.html' title='Keeping it real...too real'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-8116231728944345590</id><published>2008-01-16T23:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T20:36:28.290-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='who I am'/><title type='text'>one true thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;I am an only child. My parents never married each other and broke up 18 months after I was born. So ,I was an only child, from a broken home and a lonely latchkey kid by age nine. Is it any wonder why the one thing I've always wanted is a family? I realized early that since my parents weren't able to make a family for me so I had to make my own. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;By the time I was a teen I put my plans to paper. I mapped out how old I want to be when I met him. How long we'd date until marriage. I planned a 4th of July wedding, fireworks included. I wrote a list of at least a hundred of my favorite songs for the reception, designating which were to play at dinner and which were reserved for the dance floor. I'll carry on the tradition of twins - twin girls just like my mom and aunt, then maybe a son. I wanted 2 dogs, bichon frises. I calculated how much home we could afford. I pictured myself in the kitchen making lunches for my husband and the kids. I saw the family vacations and cookouts. I saw the birthdays and anniversaries. I drew up a budget complete with college savings and allowance for the kids. I can't tell how much I've always hated math. But I made meticulous calculations for this. When I was 14 I bought a book called "Raising Black Children" I was a teenager and buying parenting books! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;I had it all planned. I didn't know what college I'd attend. I had no clue what major to choose, let alone what career suited me. Honestly I &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; don't know what career is best for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The one and only thing I know for sure is that I want to be a wife and mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I want to be the best wife and mother. I've studied the pitfalls and learned from others' mistakes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I won't be one of those wives that sacrifice marital romance to the drudgery of motherhood. I'm gonna keep it freaky for my hubby. We're talking costumes and props and quickies in the laundry room. Sending the kids to grandma's on a regular so we can have hot sexy weekends. I won't spoil my kids. They'll appreciate the value of a dollar. I'll teach them to broaden their horizons and dream big. I'll make sure they see and study the world beyond their little corner of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;There is nothing more frustrating than knowing exactly what you want and not knowing how to get it. I've lamented my depressing dating life. I whined about my lack of confidence. Which is so irrational because I could not have more confidence in my ability to be an excellent wife &amp;amp; mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Maybe I've been focusing on the wrong side of the game? I keep thinking about my dating inexperience and bad luck. Let's just say hypothetically dating is like a job interview. The job is wife &amp;amp; mother. (and his job is husband and father- another blog, another day)I should be very confident in my abilities. I've studied all my life for this job. I've have the necessary skills. I've read the books. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;This man is damned lucky that I am even considering being his wife and mothering his kids! Surely other men are lining up to woo me just to get a access to my expertise. My superior skills demand a bidding war to retain my services. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;No this is not the most politically correct analogy. But that ain't my style anyway. If I were worried about what people thought, I wouldn't be writing this at all. This all seems like I'm a right-wing Stepford wife. But get this: I'm a feminist. Feminism is about having a choice. Any woman should have the freedom to be who she wants be it an astronaut, a physicist, or a homemaker. I have to choose homemaker. It's all I've ever wanted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Let the bidding war begin!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-8116231728944345590?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/8116231728944345590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=8116231728944345590' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/8116231728944345590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/8116231728944345590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-true-thing.html' title='one true thing'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-6731201053167223395</id><published>2008-01-16T22:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T23:09:02.216-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='single life'/><title type='text'>My so-called single life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Double post! Eat it up, kiddies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So I've been in dating exile for a while. And by a while I mean 29 years and 5 months and 16 days! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I've only had one real relationship in my adult life and that lasted only 1 year and was long distance. Long distance relationships are such a different animal than regular ones. We probably spent 6 months of that playing the whole " I miss you" no " I miss you more" game. Then cooing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"You hang up" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"No you hang up"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"One, two, three......", &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"You didn't hang up either"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Giggle, giggle. Phone kiss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;After that bullshit was over, there was a phone number exchange here, random date there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Date. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Singular.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Then there was the Mexican fling. My only regret was confusing my first good sex ever with love and then taking his non English speaking ass to meet the family. Luckily, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; isn't the type to mention past embarrassing missteps. It's been since 2004 and nary a word spoken of it since. I love my family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I could devote another &lt;em&gt;brief &lt;/em&gt;paragraph to 2005 and 2006. But the simultaneous highlight and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lowlight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is that the last time I was kissed was December 2006. Damn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Please take a moment to review my profile picture. I'm neither &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Halle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; nor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Tyra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in face or body, but I'm no hag either. There are women much, much fatter and much, much uglier that have gotten more action than I ever had. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So I'm &lt;em&gt;slowly&lt;/em&gt; coming to terms with the reality that my dating problem has much more to do with my confidence problem than a weight problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So what does one do to fix a confidence problem? I hired a trainer to help me with the weight problem. (Did I mention in the last five minutes that I lost 50 pounds?) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I read self help books like that supposedly have tips to increase confidence. Many advise the "fake it till you make it" approach. Act confident and you will attract people which will make you feel more confident. Maybe I'm just not a good faker? (Long distance bf can attest to that, poor guy.) I guess I stubbornly believe that I should be able be to me - inexperienced, self conscious, a bit too eager. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I am who I am. Shouldn't that be enough? Apparently not. Yet.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-6731201053167223395?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/6731201053167223395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=6731201053167223395' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/6731201053167223395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/6731201053167223395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-so-called-single-life.html' title='My so-called single life'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-8570351815241182556</id><published>2008-01-16T21:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T22:04:36.397-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pissing and moaning'/><title type='text'>the blogging life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm clearly having trouble adjusting to the blogging life. First of all it's not in my nature to rant and rave through a computer keyboard. I rant and rave using my big ole mouth. Ask anyone who has spent a reasonable amount of time with me. Something happens, I start running off at the mouth. My voice gets loud. I talk really fast. My arms fly around. Sometimes I revert to the black woman head roll. I even spit a little sometimes. *blush* I often go off on wild tangents way the hell of topic. And just when you think I'm done when I finally peter out. "And another thing...." I blurt out much later, arms flailing, when I have to remind my audience what I was talking about in the first place. So the point is, I'm not used to channeling all of that energy into a keyboard and a screen. Worst of all there's no immediate gratification of someone listening and laughing with and/or at me. To be honest, that's the best part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, my life is really busy right now. I really should have started blogging last year when NOTHING was going on. I went to work and came home. I lived with roommates I tried to avoid so all I did was sit in my room on the computer and watching tv. Praise the LORD my life is different now. My social life has taken a total 180! I have to make sure I budget time to be at home. I have to hold back from being out so much that I take care of my responsibilities at home. One of those responsibilities is my commitment to my weight loss. I have to make sure that I take the time to cook healthy meals and get my workouts done. So when I am home, I'm either in the kitchen or on an exercise ball! I thank GOD for all of this. My life in 2005 &amp;amp; 2006 particularly was pretty sad. I was lonely all the time and turned to food out of boredom and depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, what the f*$% do I talk about? I'm used to bobbing &amp;amp; weaving from topic to topic. I cover everything from the presidential election to Project Runway (Kevin voted off? WTF!) to the decay of Baltimore city to my latest hairdo dilemma without stopping to take a breath. I guess the theme of my blog can be a random thoughts and non sequitirs. But I do feel kind of like these blogs are supposed to be more like essays than random fragments and tidbits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, I know this blog is only supposed to be what I want it to be. I just wish I could do an audio version. Maybe keep a mic on me at all times so when my raving brilliance bubbles to the surface I can document it right as genius reveals herself. And so the sarcasm and self deprecation in my voice is crystal clear. I'm sure I could audio blog, but I'm to damn busy to research that shit.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-8570351815241182556?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/8570351815241182556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=8570351815241182556' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/8570351815241182556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/8570351815241182556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/01/blogging-life.html' title='the blogging life'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-5437897616506826183</id><published>2008-01-03T21:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T20:21:12.456-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='who I am'/><title type='text'>Thank you</title><content type='html'>Since I'm new to blogging, I never know what to expect after I post something. I was so surprised that I had so many comments on my "new year, new me post". Your comments were so supportive and positive. I was truly touched. Thank you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-5437897616506826183?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/5437897616506826183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=5437897616506826183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/5437897616506826183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/5437897616506826183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2008/01/thank-you.html' title='Thank you'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-6140883272038949226</id><published>2007-12-31T13:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T20:20:52.611-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='who I am'/><title type='text'>new year, new me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;In 2007, I set out to change some major areas in my life. Luckily I never sat down and said, " Linnea, change your life."  It started by finally making the commitment to lose weight.  God bless the BBW's who are comfortable and confident in their bodies. I admire the ones that are plump and curvy and work it. My problem is, I was never one of them. I was never confident and comfortable as a size 24. (Yeah, I put it out there!)  Being heavy just wasn't working for me.  If it is not working for me, then it's time to change it.  So I made a financial commitment, and a spiritual commitment to change my body.  Since March 2007, I've lost 50 pounds. Being 50 pounds lighter has changed my life. I have new energy and confidence. What's most inspiring to me is that such a big change was the result of small decisions made hour by hour, day by day.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I also realized that my social life had pretty much become me, Project Runway and a bag of Doritos. Sometimes I would go a whole weekend and not speak to anyone. I'd just be alone in my apartment. My friends and I grow further apart. I'd also started feeling like the last single standing. (Ooh child, that's a whole other blog!) I stumbled upon some social meet up groups and joined them, albeit shyly and tentatively at first.  It's important to me to meet cool girls to  do cool single girl things and maybe gain a couple great girlfriends. So far, I'm meeting some really great people. I'm slowly becoming less of a hermit.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;2008 more than any other year, I am due for my life to change significantly. I'm on track to reach my fitness goals. That will inevitably change my confidence which will cause my social life to continue to flourish. All of those hours watching HGTV must have changed my perspective. I have become my own improvement project!  After I've finished the first renovation phase, I've earmarked my career as the next major area in my life to overhaul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;This final paragraph should wrap up my essay in a profound, philosophical way. I don't have time for that now. I gotta go work out.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Cheers to 2008!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-6140883272038949226?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/6140883272038949226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=6140883272038949226' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/6140883272038949226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/6140883272038949226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2007/12/new-year-new-me.html' title='new year, new me'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8196940015332220758.post-3049695801681225322</id><published>2007-12-28T21:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T20:20:58.924-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='who I am'/><title type='text'>the blog bandwagon</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Hello &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blogosphere&lt;/span&gt;! Here I am! I've come to join the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blogworld&lt;/span&gt;...... roughly 8-9 years after everyone else.  I'm sure the Silicon Valley techno geeks have already concocted something cooler and newer than blogs. Before I finish this post this medium will be completely obsolete. Moreover, my 2005 dinosaur of a laptop will be deemed as cutting edge as slate and chisel. Better late than never I guess. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;So, now what? Does one recount her whole life story in the initial post? Maybe rattle off a few pithy musings about current events? Why don't I share what brought me here to blog?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;A week or two ago a couple acquaintances shared their blogs. I read and enjoyed them. Then read and enjoyed other recommended blogs. Then it occurred to me: I'm always ranting about one thing or another. My audience is usually a very polite co-worker who's probably secretly praying for me to shut the eff up already! So I'll channel my ranting &amp;amp; raving to those who specifically go online to enjoy such meaningless blather. Thanks reader or readers (wishful thinking) for enjoying my meaningless blather.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8196940015332220758-3049695801681225322?l=littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/feeds/3049695801681225322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8196940015332220758&amp;postID=3049695801681225322' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/3049695801681225322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8196940015332220758/posts/default/3049695801681225322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://littlemizmotormouth.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-bandwagon.html' title='the blog bandwagon'/><author><name>Miz Motormouth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15733964428955344729</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IvhnWC-Xvo8/R3XE-w3HHWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a4DT1oR2cHA/S220/closeup2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
