<?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-2613461489811734183</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:01:35.099-08:00</updated><category term='sex'/><category term='uncanny'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='love'/><title type='text'>What happened to Alphabits cereal?</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm 23. and slightly crazy. but never boring. mostly.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-5449125836555523606</id><published>2011-11-19T04:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T04:57:52.849-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>my dogs insist on waking me up at 7 each morning. luna tried to make it 5:30-6:00 a few weeks ago. i don't get it. we only go right back to sleep when we come back in from walking. it's making me so tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one of these days, there's gonna be a luna and albus shaped dent in my bedroom wall &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-5449125836555523606?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/5449125836555523606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=5449125836555523606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/5449125836555523606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/5449125836555523606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-dogs-insist-on-waking-me-up-at-7.html' title=''/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-3512481328450503087</id><published>2011-11-18T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T21:27:51.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>back from the dead</title><content type='html'>i've been told i should start writing again. well, that i should write a blog. and as luck would have it, i have this one.&lt;br /&gt;that i haven't written in since 2009.&lt;br /&gt;and has imported blogs from 2006.&lt;br /&gt;and good god, past me was one angry chick. i thought i had anger in me now....it's absolutely nothing compared to where i was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, maybe i'll be more diligent about posting in here. i can't guarantee much as my life is fairly boring now.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-3512481328450503087?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3512481328450503087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=3512481328450503087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3512481328450503087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3512481328450503087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2011/11/back-from-dead.html' title='back from the dead'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-9198677512060981976</id><published>2009-12-04T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T00:00:05.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'>stop acting like my mom, facebook</title><content type='html'>with each passing day, facebook gets creepier and creepier. just now, it had this ad:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SxoOtZqEEyI/AAAAAAAAABs/_9QiJGMKZSE/s1600-h/gmail.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 117px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SxoOtZqEEyI/AAAAAAAAABs/_9QiJGMKZSE/s200/gmail.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411654075383288610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no facebook, i did nothing to help your popularity, get that straight! i never gave you my contacts, so stop needlessly thanking me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then, there's this bullshit:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SxoQWGUuUNI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SwjnNJOQovQ/s1600-h/facbook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 118px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SxoQWGUuUNI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SwjnNJOQovQ/s200/facbook.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411655874079772882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(sidenote: editing pictures with MS paint BLOWS. photoshop has me spoiled) anyway, facebook is making suggestions for me!  i can just hear my mother's voice saying "you know, you haven't talked to red spray paint face in a while, why don't you send him a card?" or "you and the other red spray paint face person seem to have an awful lot of friends in common, why don't you go ahead and hang out" BECAUSE I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO, MOM. i mean...facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not enough that i &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;already feel bad about not keeping touch with my friends, i have to have facebook passive-aggressively reminding me how horrible of a person i am for not giving a shit about them anymore. then i think about deleting them, only to realize i can't because facebook will yell at me to become friends with them again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the worst part of all of this are the ad's that it thinks it picked out just for me. for some reason, facebook thinks i live in dallas and constantly gives me ads for "almost 90% off restaurants!" which would be great and all, if i didn't live about 1500 miles east.  for a while, it was giving me ads that said "23 and single? we'll tell you how to snag him!" now, it seems to think that i'm pregnant and looking for options. everyday, it'll show me ads of a peed on stick with the headline "you're not alone" well actually, yeah i am, because i'm not with child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what i'm saying is.....get out of my kool-aid, facebook.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-9198677512060981976?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/9198677512060981976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=9198677512060981976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/9198677512060981976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/9198677512060981976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/12/stop-acting-like-my-mom-facebook.html' title='stop acting like my mom, facebook'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SxoOtZqEEyI/AAAAAAAAABs/_9QiJGMKZSE/s72-c/gmail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2861460851305588746</id><published>2009-11-21T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T23:17:21.534-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i wanted to fight an old woman who spilled beer on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2861460851305588746?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2861460851305588746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=2861460851305588746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2861460851305588746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2861460851305588746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-wanted-to-fight-old-woman-who-spilled.html' title=''/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-7211195256737179615</id><published>2009-10-21T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T20:27:28.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the real reason not to drink and drive</title><content type='html'>as part of my probation for my dui, i had to attend a victim impact panel tonight. i mentally prepared myself for gut-wrenching horror stories and be told how horrible of a person i am for getting behind the wheel after drinking. i'm not complaining, it would be warranted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;instead, what i got, was a woman preaching about the goodness of the christian god and a police officer with poor grammar and even poorer judgment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the woman's story was truly heartbreaking. a drunk driver had collided with her. she was in a coma for six weeks, sustained severe nerve damage to her wrists (she couldn't even lift them), broken both arms from holding onto the wheel, one knee now hyper-extends, amongst other things. she hit her head pretty badly, causing her to suffer from short term memory loss and she can no longer multi-task.  the entire time she talked about how god got her through. she doesn't remember the crash and thanks god for not allowing to (it couldn't have anything to do with the fact that she suffered brain damage). she was going to have to get surgery to fix her arms and nerves in her wrists. she asked if she could go home for a week before her surgery. when she went in, her arms had healed and she was able to move her wrists, which she attributes to god. (again...nothing to do with the fact that she was in an environment she was happier in, and therefore more adept to heal).  she also said that she was able to get through because she was "high from god's love" and because she kept her eye on god, not herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was not a fan of the sermon she was giving.  yes, her recovery is amazing. but it's amazing because it's a result of her will to live, not because of her belief in some moral compass in the sky.  at this point, i completely checked out mentally, since i realized i wasn't going to get anything out of this obligatory meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after watching a video of another victim, the moderator, who is a police officer, started to close the meeting.  he said, and i quote, "i know probation and jail don't work. i know this program don't work. i don't think we'll ever be rid of drinking and driving. the laws are getting tighter, but our jails are so full, that you'll never get jail time unless you're a repeat offender. i've done it before, i even drank and drived while being involved in this program. i know it's wrong. i don't know that we'll ever stop. but i came across this article that said 5,555 children died from drunk driving over 10 years. 64% of them were in the car with the drunk driver. so if nothing else...let's do it for the kids. i mean, you can't not love a kid. so let's do it for them"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uh. seriously? you're really going to stand there and tell me that this is a waste of time and that you know it's a waste of time? then you're going to encourage me to not do it again because of KIDS?! i hate kids. they're germy, annoying and gross. i only like my neighbor's kids bc they're still in the cute phase, though the oldest one is growing out of it. but don't feed me this "the children are our future" bullshit.  that won't keep people from drinking driving. i'll tell you what will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this dui is the most expensive thing i've ever had to deal with.  let's run down the costs, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;lawyer fee - $1,200. i only met with him 1 time before my trial. my trial had to be postponed because he had another trial on the same date as mine. he then arrived to mine late, left halfway through only to re-appear in the nick of time.&lt;br /&gt;fines/court costs - $1,000. $650 of that was suspended since the judge gave me probation before judgment. if i get another traffic violation, this includes speeding, i will have to pay that $650, on top of whatever other fine i would get and possibly go to jail. so $350 in fines, 57.50 in court costs amounting to $407.50 that was due by 4pm of the day of my trial.&lt;br /&gt;probation - $95 a month for 11 months totalling $1,140. oh and they only accept money orders or certified checks, nothing online. so i can either spend about $15 to get my personal check certified by the bank each month, or go to the atm, take out $100 and spend less than a dollar for a money order. either way, it's a hassle for me.&lt;br /&gt;stamps - i think i paid $8.40 for the book of stamps that i need for my monthly payments, since they don't accept anything online. which i had to wait in line for, because post offices no longer offer stamp kiosks, since they are about to go under.&lt;br /&gt;gas - well i don't have an exact figure. but every month, i have to go to the post office to drop off my monthly payment, that needs to be in by the third week of the month. this doesn't include the gas i used to make trips to my lawyers office, the court house, sheriff's office, probation office.&lt;br /&gt;social drinkers program - i paid about 100-200 for a 6 week program that did absolutely nothing.&lt;br /&gt;victim impact panel - $10. only cash or money order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's only the monetary expenses. this doesn't take into account all the hours i spent panicing about what was going to happen, crying, freaking out about going to jail, etc. i also would've lost my license had it not happened while i lived in one state, then moved to another in the process. however, this meant that i had to change my license to a md, which cost 40.  i also have to get my tags switched over, which i have yet to do bc it will cost me $800 just to get my car fixed to pass md's inspection.  to get my md tags, i'll have to pay $42&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but you will never hear about all the fines you'll incur because the cops need the money.   fact is, most dui's don't result in fatalities. if you drink and drive, chances are you WILL NOT cause injury to someone else. however, you will get pulled over. no one ever stops drinking and driving on their own, it's always because they got caught. i know that i would still be doing it if i hadn't gotten pulled over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so yes, i am thankful that i got my wake up call before i caused damage to another person's life. however, had i heard about how poor i would end up being as a result of drinking and driving, i wouldn't have done it in the first place. the whole "you could kill someone" is a concept that is so far removed from our conscious.  it's one of those things that you could never understand that pain until you go through it.  it's so foreign to us, and we think "that will never happen to me" and it probably won't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but like i said, if you drink and drive, you will get caught. and you will have to pay money.  every day i think about how better off i would be financially had i not gotten behind the wheel. that $1200 i had to pay my lawyer was the money i paid to my mom in rent, that she saved for me. i could've used that money for my apt now. i wouldn't be wondering how i'm going to pay for christmas gifts since i'm literally living paycheck to paycheck. i wouldn't have to find a second job just to help my $95 fine every month. i could afford to get my dog neutered, which he desperately needs. i could pay for his preventative meds. hell, i could pay for my meds (which cost $71 a month. i have to ask my mother to pay for them most of the time) i could afford cable and internet, instead of having to steal internet from a neighbor and staring at a blank tv screen. i'd like to get a blackberry or iphone, when my contract is up, but i can't afford to.  when the doctors were trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, i was freaking out because i had no idea how i was going to pay for all the blood work they were having done, on top of office visits. i have to make my student loan payments "interest only" because i can no longer afford them. hell, i could afford to buy the real brand, instead of the store brand food i've been buying to save money. i'd really like to move out of hagerstown, but i can't until my probation is up. which is august.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you put it in terms like that, people realize just how close to home it can affect them.  so next time you plan on drinking and driving (and let's be honest, everyone plans on it), stop and ask yourself if you can legitimately afford it. could u pay for the lawyer, the court costs, the probation fees on top of whatever else you're paying? well, could you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-7211195256737179615?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7211195256737179615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=7211195256737179615' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7211195256737179615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7211195256737179615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/10/real-reason-not-to-drink-and-drive.html' title='the real reason not to drink and drive'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2529870416310510013</id><published>2009-10-15T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T22:00:46.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>well this can't be good</title><content type='html'>bad night at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;preceded by a bad month and an even worse year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what do i do when i get home? have my dog curl up next to me and promptly google "effexor overdose"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first i want to see if it's possible to die from an overdose. it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i google "effexor overdose amount" from a link on the first result page, i discover that it takes 900mg to cause toxicity. i take 150mg daily. so six pills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but six pills would probably only give me seizures. 12 would be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i stop and think  "christ am i really thinking about this?" sure, the thought has always been in the way back of my mind. i've pretty much convinced myself that it's always there for everyone else to. my thoughts would always come to the fact that i couldn't bring myself to drink bleach, i don't like guns and where the hell does someone get rope. then i would ponder the next thought to come along&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i've never done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've never researched, counted, wondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i've also never felt so worthless, alienated and alone. like i don't even want to tell anyone about this. usually when i get depressed, i search for someone to talk to. but not this time.  there's no one to talk to who wouldn't be annoyed or upset or burdened. i mean....jesus, i'm convinced my own dog doesn't like me. who thinks that?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what am i supposed to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do i check myself into a hospital?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well i can't afford that, so that's out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this helps. writing everything out. it's like i'm bleeding without making a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have nothing to show. i was thinking about "it's a wonderful life" tonight and how clarence shows george how everyone's lives would be different if he had never been born. as it turns out, george was a good man and quite a few people's lives were worse off without him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i'm not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would go so far as to say people's lives would be better without me. my mother wouldn't have a daughter she constantly fights with, my father wouldn't have someone who is perpetually indebted to him, my sister would be an only child with parents who had money to pay for her schooling. my friends wouldn't have someone they felt obligated to calm down at least once a month, if not more. my high school boyfriend would've never became a drug addict. the girls in middle school wouldn't have had a bully. even as a child i was horrible. i preferred my imaginary friends to flesh and blood ones. i told my teachers that my older sister was murdered by "robbers"  i never had an older sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i haven't done anything for anyone, let alone myself. granted, my family would be sad. but they would get over it. it would take time, of course. they would realize that i had nothing to offer to society, let alone them. i was just a leech that drained them of all their resources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i brought happiness to no one and pain to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm incapable of establishing meaningful ties to anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe my soul expired while i was a child. perhaps i never meant to live to see puberty.  it would certainly explain a whole hell of a lot&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2529870416310510013?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2529870416310510013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2529870416310510013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/10/well-this-cant-be-good.html' title='well this can&apos;t be good'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-9049572947132465239</id><published>2009-09-27T15:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T16:49:19.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i declare war on halloween</title><content type='html'>i went costume shopping this afternoon.  i was psyched. i had a coupon for $10 off at party city, found the costume i wanted from them online, and was sure that since i was going relatively early in the season sizes wouldn't be an issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was nothing short of a trainwreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first off, the store didn't even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; the costume. and it took me 30 minutes to figure that out because they had pictures of their costumes on a wall. a wall that had pictures of probably a hundred or so pictures. nothing irritates me more than when a store doesn't have the same product as it does online and they don't say it.  is it so hard to put "online exclusive" in the description? look, i just did it for you. copy and paste it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all was not lost. i spotted two slutty inmate costumes and thought that with my recent run-in with the law, this would be perfect. well they didn't have one in my size and the other one was a medium/large. not a good sign, but i tried it on anyway. horrible.  i was sporting quite the offensive camel toe. and i couldn't zip it up. disheartened, i left the store and went to the next one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this store was bigger, but the selection blew. they only had 4, at the most, of each costume and most only went to a medium.  then i spotted the female harry potter costume in a large. i had to try it on. here's what it looks like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.outblush.com/women/images/2009/09/wizard-wanda-costume-large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 326px;" src="http://www.outblush.com/women/images/2009/09/wizard-wanda-costume-large.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;notice how the skirt covers most of the ass, leaving only a little bit of under-butt cleavage. well, this was not the case for me. it fit just fine. if it were meant to be worn as a shirt. the bottom of the skirt was at the top of my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i've never thought that i had a particularly long torso.  clearly, i've been wrong about this my entire life. obviously, i have a huge torso, according to the manufacturers of overpriced, wear-one-time-only, cheap pieces of cloth. thanks guys, you're making me hate halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;instead of entirely losing my cool and swearing off halloween forever, i've come up with a brilliant solution. every chick goes as a slutty something. slutty nurse, slutty witch, slutty taxi driver, slutty clown (i wish i were joking about that one. i am not) this year, i am cutting out the middle man. i will not be a slutty anything; i will just be a plain old slut. my own personal "fuck you" to the costume industry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll get more drinks wearing lingerie, than what the slutty alice in wonderland will get.  it clearly says "if you buy me drinks, i'll probably let you see my boobs" whereas, slutty strawberry shortcake says "buy me drinks and i'll make you think you're banging a 6 year old because i have an unhealthy fetish/obsession with my childhood" because really, dressing up like a childhood icon is just a mild form of pedophilia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or at least that's what im telling myself to feel better about this whole ordeal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-9049572947132465239?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/9049572947132465239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=9049572947132465239' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/9049572947132465239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/9049572947132465239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-declare-war-on-halloween.html' title='i declare war on halloween'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-8529551312048563959</id><published>2009-09-25T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T00:03:01.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i thought the past was supposed to stay in the past</title><content type='html'>in the span of a week, i get contacted by two former flings. the very two i thought i'd never hear from again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-8529551312048563959?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8529551312048563959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=8529551312048563959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8529551312048563959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8529551312048563959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-thought-past-was-supposed-to-stay-in.html' title='i thought the past was supposed to stay in the past'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2374375591662462353</id><published>2009-09-19T00:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T00:38:08.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i could be your heroine</title><content type='html'>friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok it's actually saturday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;interesting night. apparently i looked hot enough that a female bartender bought my first drink. but more importantly, i looked hot enough to convince the heroin addict to hit on me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after nearly a year of not speaking. he comes up to me and offers his number again.  like nothing happened. to him, i'm sure nothing is exactly what happened. he never convinced me to fall for him, against all my inner warnings. he never made me fear for my safety. no, none of that ever happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i accept his number. i agonize over it, thinking what does it mean? because it has to mean something. it has to. why of all the nights he's seen me out....why does he choose tonight to start things up? i pull at my hair, thinking this isn't fair that universe is doing to this me.  i genuinely want to know that he's doing ok, but at the same time, i don't want that mess at my doorstep again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i go home, turn the shower on. it's scalding.  i let the hot water burn feeling into me. no, i let the hot water burn sense into me. i want to scream, i want to cry, but i don't. if i do, he wins.  so i suffer, let the hot water attempt to blister my skin while the memories tear at my mind. this has to be a sign, doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i get out of the shower. i lay on the ground and let my dog lick me. i look at my phone. i look at the trophy i've won saying "i won" the unspoken battle of wills, of who's doing better and who will cave first: his number. i look at it and promptly delete it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i learn that i look for meaning where there is none.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2374375591662462353?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2374375591662462353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=2374375591662462353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2374375591662462353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2374375591662462353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-could-be-your-heroine.html' title='i could be your heroine'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-7186559936966916031</id><published>2009-09-16T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T00:45:30.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm supposed to choose my life path at 17? chyeah right</title><content type='html'>i talked to a friend tonight about our futures. we both went to college for 4 years (she went for 4 1/2, switched majors half way through) i'm contemplating an industry change, and she went back to school, only to quit again because she didn't know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i realized that most of my college friends are absolutely exactly where they thought they would never be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some had to move back in with their parents. i was in that boat and the only reason i moved out was because i wanted a dog. wasn't the smartest decision financially, but definitely the winner emotionally.  i have friends who majored in public relations and mass communications and are working for citi group. i have friends who are still bartending to make ends meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my generation got the short end of the stick.  as children, we were taught that we had to go to college to get a job that paid well. we were promised that we would get jobs immediately upon graduation, starting our journey to happily ever after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's really not what happened at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to know who mandated that if you want to go to college it has to be immediately after high school. why can't we be more like the europeans and spend some time backpacking across the world? it's like america collectively decided to be unhappiest place on earth. there was no war to draft our boys into and every girl was told she had to go to college, lest she become "just a housewife" and look what happened. a nation full of overeducated people and no jobs to give them. so overeducated that a huge chunk of them went onto post-graduate studies, further adding to what will be their uselessness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't get me wrong, i'm all for education.  but  doesn't it feel more and more like the investors and lenders tricked everyone into thinking they needed college, all so they could get paid? that they managed to convince people to ignore their heart? now the man who really wanted to be a mechanic and would've been great at it, is stuck wondering what the hell he's supposed to do with a philosophy degree and a minor in english lit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't understand what's so wrong about that man being the mechanic he always wanted to be, but also is able to carry on a conversation about plato.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's considered a waste of a mind.  to be smart and have a customer service career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but is it really?  is the mind really wasted when it's happy doing something it loves, rather than just something it happens to be qualified for?  exactly how far do/can you get in life with a degree that's essentially useless outside of elite circles? sure, you might know a bit more about greek and roman ruins than the average person, but that would just make you a pompous tour guide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-7186559936966916031?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7186559936966916031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=7186559936966916031' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7186559936966916031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7186559936966916031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-supposed-to-choose-my-life-path-at.html' title='i&apos;m supposed to choose my life path at 17? chyeah right'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-8843662347876092204</id><published>2009-08-30T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:58:31.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yes, my dog is awesome. please go away now.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;everyone, meet pookie.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375965733236595538" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SptEWe49W1I/AAAAAAAAABY/YYlwaswnQ-M/s320/5780_1089323400993_1463700059_30224604_6034179_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;ok, his actual name is albus mcweenie.  and he is adorable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;problem is,  i can't take him out in public without being mobbed by people. when i first got him, i was ok with it because it was all new and people seemed to know their boundaries.  now, people want to have conversations with me. or worse, him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i'm ok with kids coming up and playing with him.  it makes sense. i can usually pretend to know what kids are talking about long enough for their parents to drag them away. most adults seem to pick up on the fact that i'm horrible at small talk and manage to pull themselves away.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;then there are those other people. the ones who i can only assume have no regular human contact because they insist on dragging me through their not-at-all interesting anecdotes about their dogs. i'm willing to listen to people's stories about their dachshunds, because i'm a first time dog owner. they may have something important to share that's breed specific.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i, however, cannot hold a conversation with someone who insists on telling me about their greyhounds, german shepherds, or st. bernards. yes, your dog is 100x bigger than mine, but mine is also smarter than yours. and poops less. and can sit on my lap. yes, i'm sure it is quite different owning a big dog than it is owning a mini-dachshund. like i said: less poop, more cuddles. i don't want to hear about whatever you story you have about when your dog was a puppy, although i'm sure it was fascinating that your dog was 200 lbs at 6 months. i don't care. the worst part is these people don't notice that i'm trying to leave. i'll even say "let's go potty" to my dog and they'll still try to talk to me. some have even followed me, oblivious to the fact that i'm hoping my dog lays a fat turd on the ground so that i have an excuse to ignore them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;then there are the people who talk to him. i imagine they also talk to babies. "you're a pretty boy aren't you?" "oh i bet you're a good dog for your mommy." "i can tell you're a spoiled puppy" what do you do in this situation? at first, i was stupid and replied with "say thank you, albie" then i realized HE'S A FUCKING DOG AND CAN'T TALK. so now i've resorted to "yes, he is pretty. that's why i chose him and not his brother" because, i didn't birth this dog. i can't be like a parent and say "aw thank you" because people are complimenting your genes when they about your child. but when you're like me and your child has 4 legs and tons of hair, you can't really accept responsibility. i get weird looks when i respond that way, but it's either that way or mumbling incoherent syllables and shuffling awkwardly away. i figure the blunt route is less rude. and more my style.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i would like to know what goes through these people's heads though. like, do they realize that they sound crazy? more importantly, do they realize that they probably are crazy? and then i feel really bad for them because their only conversation of the day was either with me or my dog. one of us hates people and the other can't talk. i honestly feel more bad if they talk to me instead of albus. at least he'll give kisses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-8843662347876092204?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8843662347876092204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=8843662347876092204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8843662347876092204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8843662347876092204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/08/yes-my-dog-is-awesome-please-go-away.html' title='yes, my dog is awesome. please go away now.'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SptEWe49W1I/AAAAAAAAABY/YYlwaswnQ-M/s72-c/5780_1089323400993_1463700059_30224604_6034179_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-8249966201580254842</id><published>2009-08-29T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:37:40.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peggy Olson is cooler than you. and me.</title><content type='html'>*please excuse this interruption in your usually scheduled blog*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm currently watching the latest episode of mad men. (i don't have cable at my place, so i catch it a week later on demand at my parents house. dvr's are marvelous) i must admit, in the first and second seasons, i didn't think peggy was much of a character.  her story line was interesting, but it interested me the least. it just figures that she ends being the one i can relate the most to. (no, i did have a child and give it up for adoption. just clearing the air on that one, before rumors start)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she's the most modern character on the show. in "love among the ruins", she proves that she isn't willing to live in a man's world.  she briefly flirted with the idea of channeling ann margaret, but quickly realized that the sex pot isn't her role.  she picks up a guy at the bar and goes back to his place (smart move) she asks the guy if he has a condom, he says no, she says they can do other things. when she tries to leave in the middle of the night, he wakes up and suggests going to breakfast.  she turns him down and he counters with "well i hang out at that bar a lot" her response? "oh....ok"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE THAT WOMAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many women could and should take notes on how peggy operates.  she had a child out of wedlock, and instead of shaming the father into being with her, she gives it up because she had other plans for her life. absolutely unheard of in 1963. while the smartest woman in the office, joan, is fretting about being in her 30's and remains engaged to her fiancee who rapes her, just so she can get married, peggy is scheming her way to the top.  and it's so under the radar.  i'm absolutely floored with what the writers have done with character and ashamed that i wasn't a fan from the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;peggy olson is me. they literally took exact scenes from my life and put it on amc. trying to sneak out of a guys place before the sun comes up? the guy asking to get breakfast even though it's the middle of the night?  "oh..ok" in response to him obviously trying to maintain contact? I WROTE THAT BOOK. it's my autobiography, actually. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know how to explain what i'm feeling. she's just a fictional character, but i've never felt so...empowered? that my tv doppleganger has been able to accomplish so much at a younger age than i am right now and at a time when it was so much harder for a woman to do? certainly puts my bitching about my current predicament in perspective. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, dear reader, this means that you can expect more blogging from yours truly.  writing is a talent and passion i've had since i could hold a pencil. i owe it to myself to do something i find fulfilling since my current occupation doesn't provide that. i can't promise that my entries will always be good, or even have something remotely important to say. but i'll try my best to make them entertaining. hope you'll come along for the ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-8249966201580254842?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8249966201580254842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=8249966201580254842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8249966201580254842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8249966201580254842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/08/peggy-olson-is-cooler-than-you-and-me.html' title='Peggy Olson is cooler than you. and me.'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-9178006955939831829</id><published>2009-08-27T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T12:50:18.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>when did guys get vaginas?</title><content type='html'>seriously. when did the switch between guys and girls happen? i was talking to this guy, he made it obvious he wanted a relationship. shortly after, i realized that i just wanted someone to pass the time with until i left hagerstown.  nothing serious, just fun, casual dating/boning. so naturally, i stopped talking to him. granted, that was the non-confrontational way out, but in my defense, i also forgot to tell him to stop talking to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after a few days of radio silence, he text me today. he's at the beach right now and tells me he'll be back sunday and has monday afternoon free if he wants to hang out. i respond with a non-comittal "ok", hoping he'll see it for what it is: a chicken shit way of saying "go awayyyyyy" he doesn't. or he does and forces me to talk some more. either way, i found i suddenly boarded the train to awkwardbitchville. choo choo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"do you want to hang out"&lt;br /&gt;"i don't think that's a good idea"&lt;br /&gt;"why's that"&lt;br /&gt;"because you want a relationship and i just want someone to spend time with until i move"&lt;br /&gt;"you're moving?! why didn't you say anything?!"&lt;br /&gt;"because it's not definite and wouldn't happen until a year from now"&lt;br /&gt;"oh...well i don't really want a relationship. i'd just like to spend time with you and if something happens then it happens"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at that point my clingy alarm went off.  he even said "i know i can be clingy" then he said "it sounds like you want friends with benefits. i can do that; i never know how i feel about it until i do it"  it's like he pulled the line straight from the "so you like him, but he doesn't like you: how to have as much of him as you can" self help book for desperate girls.  right next to "he's just not that into you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which brings me back to my original question: when did guys become chicks?!  if you have any answers, please share them with me. or, even better, tips for how to handle these stage 5 clingers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-9178006955939831829?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/9178006955939831829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=9178006955939831829' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/9178006955939831829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/9178006955939831829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/08/when-did-guys-get-vaginas.html' title='when did guys get vaginas?'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-8972927012630770207</id><published>2009-08-24T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T21:43:35.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>most awkward night. ever.</title><content type='html'>tonight, my waking nightmare was realized. my roommate and her, for lack of a better term, boyfriend were here. they were in the dining room doing a puzzle, i was in the living room on my computer. they were laughing, flirting, being young (read: immature), i was listening to angry anti-love songs by brand new. it was such an interesting dichotomy going on. they were laughing, and i figured i'd do my usual "third wheel comments" i'm pretty good at them and manage to make myself feel like i'm not intruding with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they're working on the puzzle, and my roommate says "i keep shoving pieces in the wrong spots" so, i, in all my awkward glory, say "story of my life!" comedic bronze, right? it could allude to my life being a massive pile of suck, or a sexual innuendo. or both. i expected half-hearted chuckles and head shakes to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;didn't happen. no one laughed. roommate said "what is? shoving pieces in the wrong spots?" so in an effort to try to save the joke (notice i said joke and not situation), i said "yeah there's video on the internet" NOTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what am i supposed to do with that?! i wasn't prepared for people not to laugh, because quite frankly that's never happened before. i'm a gd hoot.  i don't know what to do, because i don't have a personality, jokes are all i have. jokes and whining. that's what i do, it's who i am. with some hypochondria thrown in for good measure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i go back to my angry music. next thing i know, roommate is asking, "is this dashboard confessional?" "no" "is this a cover of dashboard?" "no, this is better than dashboard" "well i know that, but their voices sound similiar"  ARRRRGGGGGGG. to be fair, she did nothing wrong; i was just taken aback because i'm never the one who knows the most about music in a room. it was a weird position to be in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the cherry on top of this whole potentially life ending debacle? my dog chose to hang out with them instead of me!  he was merrily chomping away on his bone at her feet, while i sat here wondering what bizzarro dimension i had found myself in. the one where i wasn't funny and my shadow, i mean, dog, chose someone else over me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is doing absolutely nothing for my neuroses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-8972927012630770207?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8972927012630770207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=8972927012630770207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8972927012630770207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8972927012630770207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/08/most-awkward-night-ever.html' title='most awkward night. ever.'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-7833362844759325648</id><published>2009-07-19T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T20:48:42.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>23 is the new 50, obvi.</title><content type='html'>A big realization dawned on me today: I'm not 19 anymore.  I mean, I've clearly known that for some time. But it's rather depressing. At 19, you're still young, you still have things to look forward to. When someone who is 27 hits on you, you're allowed to think it's slightly creepy.  But at 23, 27 is completely acceeptable.  Let me explain why this frightens me. Right now, I still feel I'm too young to even consider the thought of marriage.  But at 27, you're staring down your 30's and coming to the point where people start to pity you for not being married. It's a terrifyingly small window between fabulous young woman and old maid in training.  So, when someone who is 27 hits on me, I automatically go into a panic. My tendency to imagine the worst goes into overload. What happens if I start dating this guy? What if we fall in love?  He's close to the age where men start settling down, what if he proposes? What would I say? No, because I'm still rather young and haven't quite landed on my feet yet? Yes because what if no one else comes along? I'd like to think I wouldn't sa yes for that reason alone, but who knows. And if I do say no, saying I need more time....what if he wants to settle down right away and won't wait? Will I have lost the love of my life because of timing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are all such obtuse hypotheticals that it doesn't really matter.  I'm nowhere near even dating someone.  But still, it's enough to send a girl into a midlife crisis, 27 years too early. Thankfully, my dog doesn't think I'm crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-7833362844759325648?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7833362844759325648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=7833362844759325648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7833362844759325648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7833362844759325648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/07/23-is-new-50-obvi.html' title='23 is the new 50, obvi.'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2861718762736517615</id><published>2009-04-15T22:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T22:58:01.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>how do you tell someone that they aren't as smart as you, which is why you don't talk about "issues of the day" with them? that it's kinda painful being friends with them and you only are out of necessity? it's pretty much "out of sight, out of mind" for me with you.  you have nothing of value to offer and are a very selfish person.  i usually don't associate myself with your type.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2861718762736517615?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2861718762736517615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=2861718762736517615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2861718762736517615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2861718762736517615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-do-you-tell-someone-that-they-arent.html' title=''/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-4213652746768331885</id><published>2009-04-07T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T17:34:13.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>donate4dachshunds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SdvvmD2XVLI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hT8E42VDlNo/s1600-h/100_0880_500x375.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322110821815768242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SdvvmD2XVLI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hT8E42VDlNo/s320/100_0880_500x375.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;in a month i'm going to be the new mommy of this adorable mini-dachshund.  his name is albus mcweenie. (albus is from harry potter and i just thought mcweenie was a cute last name)  anyway, i know some people have expressed interest in buying toys, clothes, etc. for him.  i would like to ask you to instead use that money and donate it to donate4daschund (if you still insist on buying a gift, please donate a dollar or two as well)&lt;a href="http://whosyourdachshund.blogspot.com/2009/04/donate4dachshunds-week-one.html"&gt;http://whosyourdachshund.blogspot.com/2009/04/donate4dachshunds-week-one.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it's a fundraiser run by the bloggers of who's your dachshund (you can find them on my list) it's going to be helping out shelters in canada, usa and south africa. you can read success stories of rescued puppies, look at their adorable pictures and help out the ones who need it in one step! trust me, this is a good idea :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-4213652746768331885?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/4213652746768331885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=4213652746768331885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/4213652746768331885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/4213652746768331885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/04/donate4dachshunds.html' title='donate4dachshunds'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_v-N3OUXL_cE/SdvvmD2XVLI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hT8E42VDlNo/s72-c/100_0880_500x375.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-8621116337511596903</id><published>2009-04-02T02:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T02:25:54.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>epic fail = me</title><content type='html'>so...i got a dui tonight.  and the whole time the police officer if questioning me, i'm just smiling because, fuck, i knew this was coming.  i knew my luck would only last so long, and i've been driving while intoxicated for a while......i expected this,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but holy shit, i was not expecting to let down everyone i know.  my sister made me feel like complete shit.  like "oh my god, i'm trying to drown myself in the bathtub" shit.  i dunno....something about feeling like i had let her down was something i couldn't bear to feel.  i always knew i wasn't the model daughter, but i tried to be every now and again.  and i aways put my sister before anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and here i am. the feelings are not returned.  wow does this suck.  this tears me to my core. that i have embarassed my family and made my sister ashamed of me.  i took 5 aleve, still can't sleep.  i asked my uncle larry for help.  to no avail.  i do hope he's looking out for me.  if not, i don't know what to do.  hahaha it never ceases to amaze me at how much i hate feeling feelings.  even now.  i fucking hate it.  i wish i could just go through life, feeling lukewarm about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but no, feelings are human, and i'm unfortunately, human.  i will fix that one day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-8621116337511596903?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8621116337511596903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=8621116337511596903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8621116337511596903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/8621116337511596903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/04/epic-fail-me.html' title='epic fail = me'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-3607419972704012118</id><published>2009-03-02T22:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T23:26:21.148-08:00</updated><title type='text'>wherefore art thou mccain, circa 2000?</title><content type='html'>there have been a number of things in politics that have been bothering me recently.  they mostly have something to do with limbaugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first off...why in the world is the democrat party backing an ad that labels limbaugh as the de facto leader of the republicans?  i listen to him every day (for comedic relief) and can tell you that he is not the leader.  sure, he has a lot of blindly loyal followers.  but he's not interested in actual politics.  he's just interested in making money. (almost every story he talks about is a segue to one of his sponsors.  after the 08 elections he said republicans should've bought lifelock because their identity had been stolen. ) personally, i don't think he believes half of what he says.  if he were really interested in "bringing conservativism back", he would run for office.  instead he chooses to sit behind his mic and blab about how hard it is for republicans.  that's where the money is.  i don't blame him....i'm lazy too, if i got paid millions of dollars to talk and only take calls from those who agree with me, i would do that too...instead of actually being the change i talked about. (my apologies to ghandi)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;secondly....it's scary the misinformation he's spewing and his followers are gobbling up. (notice i said followers, not republicans.  not all republicans are dumb enough to follow him.  it's true, i know them)  he said that obama is failing because the economy hasn't recovered.  now, i'm not an expert at economics....not even an economic hobbiest. (is that a word? i dunno....stay with me though) but i know that it takes more than a month to turn the economy around.  he mentions how far the dow has dropped since the election....but fails to mention how that avalanche had already started in september.  bush was president and mccain had the perceived edge because of palin.  am i the only one who has a problem with that?!  rhetorical question, i know i'm not.  it also bothers me that he says he wants obama to fail.  i was never a fan of bush, but i never wanted him to fail.  i never wanted the iraq war to fail. i hoped against hope that bush hadn't led us into a war for nation-building purposes.  even when it became clear...i didn't want the troops to fail. i may be the lone leftist who says that, but i don't care.  failure on those levels mean loss of lives.  who the hell wants people to die, especially for a baseless war?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the failure that limbaugh wants obama to have means loss of jobs, money and would bring about civil unrest.  do people not realize that a functioning society needs a middle class??  if we were to continue down the unregulatory road we're on, all of the middle class would become lower class as the rich became richer.  do they need to crack open a history book to know what happens when the majority of the population is poor?  i'll save them the effort: they riot.  they loot, riot and threaten the rich.  this is why pure, unadulterated capitialism doesn't work. you need programs in place that will keep a happy, sizeable middle class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fdr knew that.  he funded government programs that gave jobs to the unemployed.  that's how we got the hoover dam.  should we stop the electricity flow from the dam because it's a product of the government?  i wonder how that would go over in the west.  not well, i imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to end this long winded rant, i will say that i'd like to see the republican party reform itself.  the neocons hijacked your party and appeals to the lowest common denominator now through wedge issues and inflammatory speech.  please become a party with intellectuals again.  don't hold palin up as your idol.  please find someone smart with something to say (not bobby jindal. you don't want kenneth the page running your party) please become a worthy opponent again.  2008 was too easy.  don't make 2010 the year you effectively become over-ripe roadkill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-3607419972704012118?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3607419972704012118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=3607419972704012118' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3607419972704012118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3607419972704012118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/wherefore-art-thou-mccain-circa-2000.html' title='wherefore art thou mccain, circa 2000?'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-6826887366524146797</id><published>2009-02-20T00:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T00:54:41.249-08:00</updated><title type='text'>did i just get middle school e-dumped?</title><content type='html'>in an embarrassing admission i'm about to make, i signed up for an internet dating site.  this one guy and i hit it off. (i dunno....can u say that about enthusiastic emails?) casual back and forth for two weeks.  seemed like fun.  then suddenly, i stopped hearing from him.  i was like...well it's the weekend, i can understand him not getting on.  fast forward to right now.  friday morning at 345.  still havent heard from him.  so i do something ill advised and see if he read my email.  turns out, he did. the same day i sent it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what the hell happened? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at the very least he could've sent something back saying "ya know that last email really rubbed me the wrong way, i'm no longer interested"  i don't see how thats possible since i didnt write anything offensive.  but seriously....don't just not answer if we're in the middle of email communication.  that's just rude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone should really set some rules for internet date sites.&lt;br /&gt;rule 1 - don't be a dick.  atleast say u got back with an ex, u like someone more, or u realized u were gay.  something.  i don't care if it's true.  just don't suddenly stop talking.  especially when i have no other way of contacting you.  there's literally no chance i could become a crazy stalker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well that's really the only rule i have.  but it's important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;god, i can't wait to get a dog and have him not do this stupid shit to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-6826887366524146797?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6826887366524146797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=6826887366524146797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/6826887366524146797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/6826887366524146797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/did-i-just-get-middle-school-e-dumped.html' title='did i just get middle school e-dumped?'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-6751914828147195644</id><published>2009-01-02T23:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T23:24:25.952-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my ocean's 11, only better</title><content type='html'>i was at dinner with a friend tonight when i realized my new coat had an inside-boobie pocket.  i immediately realized i would be safe to travel in europe now, since pick-pockets can't pick a pocket that's on the inside.  that's when i came up with the idea of stuffing my pockets with a bunch of elaborately fake money, if i ever do travel abroad.  on the fake currency, i would write "way to be an asshole.  this is fake"  i think the chances of me getting the shit kicked out of me goes up exponentially, but it's a chance i'm willing to take.  i think it would lol-worthy to have someone go through the trouble of stealing from me, only for it to be fake.  when my ipod broke and there was a rash of break-in's and ipod stealing....i secretly hoped they would come into our house.  i was the only one with an ipod and it didn't work.  i thought it would be hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's something wrong with me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-6751914828147195644?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6751914828147195644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=6751914828147195644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/6751914828147195644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/6751914828147195644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-was-at-dinner-with-friend-tonight.html' title='my ocean&apos;s 11, only better'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-6486406206047054124</id><published>2009-01-02T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T18:10:54.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>today was my first day back at work since xmas eve.  it was a nice break.  i actually didn't totally dread coming in.  i say not totally, because there was some reluctance to walk through the front door.  on nye, i was out with my friend who is also my supervisor.  she informed me that a part-timer at work called her to see when i would be in next because he has a birthday present for me. (my birthday was on monday)  that would be all fine and well except for the fact that i've never had a conversation with the guy.  i've said hello when he said it first. (i never say hi first....it's a weird quirk of mine.)  everytime this guy has tried to talk to me, i've made it VERY obvious i was more interested in something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what about my behavior says "yes, please give me gifts, person who creeps me out"  i have nothing, NOTHING, in common with this guy and he always tries to talk.  i have nothing to say to a single dad who wears combat boots to a tv station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now...let me tell you what was in the gift.  a red "help"button, that i think is supposed to make fun of staples' "easy" button...when u press it it says mean things.  i chuckled.  there was a set of "calming balls"  hahahah that's really funny when you say it like that.  but they were these chinese chiming balls that came with a little book on how to relax.  a "genuine" coach bag....i'm not sure how genuine it is....it is stamped with the logo....but it's sorta faded, so who knows how old it is.  and lastly...there was a painting that he did. he said he had a ton of canvases around the house and just randomly paints them.  uhh...thanks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what am i supposed to do with this gift?!  i mean...the coach bag is one of those mini backpacks that i wore in FIFTH GRADE.  i have no use for it now.  the red button and the painting will both either end up in a junk drawer or the trash. maybe i'll use the calming balls, but i highly doubt it.  i honestly see me getting more use out of the bag and tissue paper it was wrapped in.  i'll probably put the bag on ebay.  i mean...that's the only use i'll get out of it, ya know?  who gives a shit if its a mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but seriously...this gift is inappropriate on so many different levels. he hasn't even worked here for 6 months, and he's already buying me gifts?  not to mention that i was the only one, production side who got one. apparently he has something for one of our anchor's but she's been on vacay.  but seriously....did he not notice how no one else got me a gift, and moreover how he wasn't supposed to?!?!  and he genuinely felt bad about not being able to make it out for my birthday!  good lord!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am i the only one who thinks there's a definite time period of having to know someone, and know them well, to get them a gift?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-6486406206047054124?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6486406206047054124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=6486406206047054124' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/6486406206047054124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/6486406206047054124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/today-was-my-first-day-back-at-work.html' title=''/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-3734875979502971422</id><published>2008-12-14T01:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T01:25:51.552-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>lovrub</title><content type='html'>so, i'm watching comedy central tonight.  its pretty standard for me to have it on if i don't go out on saturdays cause cartoon network is full of that stupid anime bullshit.  the program goes to commercial, i tune out.  then, out of the corner of my eye, i see some legs with candy cane garters on.  i think "this is interesting, i shall see what this is for"  i see the website "lovrub.com" in the corner.  "oh ok...its probably for lingerie" well, clearly...i am a moron.  because it's for lube.  not just any lube, mind you.  it's "love in a tube" that is "clinically proven to enhance your love life"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i ask you....what has this world come to that scientists or doctors....or someone with a college education, are studying the effect of lube on sex?  couldn't they be better used studying the effects of cancer prevention pills? or studying why fat people love to eat? anything that would be slightly more beneficial to society than making a product that claims you and the spouse you resent so much will be able to have a better love life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm gonna let you in on a little secret: a lube is not going to enhance ur love life.  it will allow you to bang for longer, but not better.  being good at banging is what will make your sex life better.  watching porn and mentally taking notes will make you better at banging.  exchanging stories with friends will make you better at banging.  shit just talking to your partner will make you better at banging.  a lube cannot, and will not ever, do that.  all it will do is increase the chances of slippage and leave a sticky smelly mess behind.  and that, my friends, is the opposite of sexy.  it's just gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another mind-boggling thing i saw on comedy central tonight: a commercial for guys gone wild. i wanted to cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-3734875979502971422?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3734875979502971422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=3734875979502971422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3734875979502971422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3734875979502971422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/lovrub.html' title='lovrub'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-3795983797241649961</id><published>2008-11-30T20:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T20:55:58.917-08:00</updated><title type='text'>thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>my ten year old cousin was on all fours willingly being humped by his brother's dog while the rest of us were eating.  best. thanksgiving. ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-3795983797241649961?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3795983797241649961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=3795983797241649961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3795983797241649961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3795983797241649961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/thanksgiving.html' title='thanksgiving'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2632315707859948318</id><published>2008-11-16T22:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T22:46:51.292-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a rare (and by rare i mean i've never done this before) entertainment blog</title><content type='html'>so i watched the trl finale tonight.  i spent my teenage years watching it, and my post secondary years making fun of it....so i felt i had to.  fall out boy performed.  now, prepare yourself for this, but i have to this loud and clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I AM A HUGE FAN OF FALL OUT BOY. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*whew* that feels better.  admitting is the first step to recovery, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first off, i'll list all of the reasons i &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shouldn't &lt;/span&gt;like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i was one of their original fans.  i loooved them back in 03 when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;take this to your grave&lt;/span&gt; came out.  i thought it was catchy and original and a very nichole-friendly pop-emo cd. the lyrics were intense, but you didn't wanna slice your wrists open, a la bright eyes. (not making fun of bright eyes)  anyway, it's an unwritten rule that once a band "sells out" (read: actually makes money) that their original fans can no longer like them and they have to hate on the new fans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-i'll be 23 in a month.  i don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that 90% of their fans are in high school.  i'm dangerously close to becoming the old weird chick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i can't help it....i love them.  i tried to act like i didn't. i poo-poo'ed the new fans (i still do, btw).  i pretended that pete annoyed me more than he did. (he does annoy me, just not that much) i rolled my eyes every time they came on the radio or trl, while conspicuously not changing the station.  i saw them live, literally days before they blew up.  i feigned disgust and a sense of betrayal, while actually feeling superior to everyone who thought they were new. try as i might, i couldn't deny my love for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the fact is, they're a great band.    their live show is full of energy and everyone was into it.  no one looked at me weird as i shoved my way into the "pit" of mainly 17 year olds.  it was heavenly when they threw water on the grateful crowd.  granted, pete talked a little too much and that was when my love/hate affair with him started...but the quality of the set outranked his arrogance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while i don't feel the other cd's live up to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tttyg&lt;/span&gt;'s awesomeness, i still thoroughly enjoyed every minute of them.  i never have to be in the mood for their music.  i can put any of their songs on and instantly rock out.  there aren't many artists that i can say that about.  and i'll be damned if pete wentz isn't one of the greatest song writers to ever live.  he may annoy the shit out of me, but he knows how to write songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my only real problem with them is the teenage fans.  they look at me funny when i push my way to the front.  they get an incredulous look on their face that says "hey, bitch...i got here way before the doors opened to secure this spot for me and my girlfriend.  you don't get to waltz up here and take it away."  to which, i have no choice but to laugh.  because i got there after the opening acts because i was not standing in the cold for 2 hours, to only have to stand in a sweaty mess of people for about 3-4 hours.  that's really true about any show i go to though, so i guess i'll have to deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm ok with being the creepy elderly chick at the show.  i'm supporting a band that i love and have loved for the past 5 years now.  all i ask is that you don't look at me funny when you have to get in the car with your dad.  thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2632315707859948318?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2632315707859948318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=2632315707859948318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2632315707859948318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2632315707859948318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/rare-and-by-rare-i-mean-ive-never-done.html' title='a rare (and by rare i mean i&apos;ve never done this before) entertainment blog'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-1127718995564968681</id><published>2008-11-11T00:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T00:29:47.869-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i know what boys like, i know what guys want</title><content type='html'>....except that i don't. at all.  i've spent my entire life meticulously crafting my personality....one that all those teenage magazines said boys would adore.  "don't be too boy crazy" "don't wait by the phone" "desperation is a terrible perfume"  well guess what? those damn magazines were wrong!  if you're a teenage girl reading this....don't listen to the magazines.  because all of those girls that i made fun of in high school who were like this.....are all happily married. or engaged.  or have long term boyfriends.  me?  nada.  all i do is go around and bang whomever i want, leave before falling asleep and never call them on the pretense that "i don't want a relationship"  the only thing is, i do.  i want one.  i'm tired of being lonely.  and my standards are so ludicrously high, that they can never be met.  coupled with the fact that i've never ever flirted, only ever said "bang me" as my pick up line and i am completely 100% fucked.  my friend (a male) told me that guys want a girl who is cute and charming and fun.  i am none of those things!!! i am spastic, loud, obnoxious, completely ungraceful and entirely awkward!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;compare that with little miss-fake-tits-huge-smile-hair-flip.......i dont stand a fucking chance.  i was always taught to be myself. not to play games or any of that bullshit.  turns out, no, you're supposed to play games.  they like that.  so then it goes back to my high standards because i don't have the time or patience for anyone who likes to play cat and mouse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so who wants to help me pick out my cats, for when i officially become crazy cat lady?  any takers???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-1127718995564968681?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1127718995564968681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=1127718995564968681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/1127718995564968681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/1127718995564968681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-know-what-boys-like-i-know-what-guys.html' title='i know what boys like, i know what guys want'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2314397569458131243</id><published>2008-11-08T01:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T01:23:05.261-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm not in love, this is not your song</title><content type='html'>i was doing my usual rounds of facebook stalking, only to find out that the first guy to ever feel me up is now engaged and his fiancee is 7 months pregnant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is a straight shot to my proverbial nuts in regards to how much i'm not doing with my life. "hey, first feeler of my boobs....what've you been up to?" "oh nothing....just making a new being, starting an awesome new life blah blah blah.  what've you been doing?" "i uhh...slept with a herion addict recently? his dog really liked me, so that was cool"  seriously, nothing puts my life into more perspective than hearing about all these people i went to high school (and in some cases, elementary school) with, getting married and playing house. only for real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this one really irks me because i feel completely jipped by the powers-that-be.  don't get me wrong, this kid is a great guy and deserves all the happiness he can get....but for real? those were my boobs! i did all the work growing them. i should be getting married first, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which brings me to the next point in my feeling like crap cycle that this news always brings.  why the fuck do i care?  i'm all about being independent (as i freeload off my parents) and i totally can't see myself settling down right now and essentially think it's rather dumb to do so at my age. (going on 23, for those of you keeping track) but i've paid my dues......i've attracted all the crazy guys, so the normal ones have a clear path to the rest of you chicks out there.  i'm not even asking for someone to be a lifetime partner!  just someone i can bang on a regular basis and not feel weird talking to them outside of the bed.  so...a step above a booty call and half a step down from a relationship?  commitment scares the shit out of me still, but it would be nice to have someone to joke around with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you know what...there's no real need for panic.  there's an anomaly.  apparently nearly everyone i went to high school with was enamored with the "young family" idea.  i was the only one awake when they taught what the definition of "forever" was.  you're damn right i choked too.  in elementary school. so they're the crazy ones.  i have nothing to worry about.  until i start inexplicably collecting cats.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2314397569458131243?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2314397569458131243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=2314397569458131243' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2314397569458131243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2314397569458131243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-not-in-love-this-is-not-your-song.html' title='i&apos;m not in love, this is not your song'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-1813476489539516667</id><published>2008-11-08T00:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T01:01:08.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>3/4/08</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;               a woman with edge&lt;/span&gt;                                               &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               that's what i was called today by a coworker.  it made me giggle.  i was in a cranky mood when i went to the station, and on the way out i was sort of explaining away my behavior because i worked all day, but i was usually abrasive anyway because i just dont care. so the coworked proceeded to tell me that he likes to think of me as "a woman with edge"  which brings me to my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ATTENTION ALL MALES: STOP TELLING ME HOW I'M "SO DIFFERENT" FROM OTHER GIRLS. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know this already.  you will not get in my pants by telling me me how awesome i am and completely unlike anyone you've met before.  yeah i know, now please get out of my face because you're just annoying me now..&lt;br /&gt;and i don't even think that i'm so extremely different either.  i'm just honest, upfront and don't play games.  which in all honesty, makes me saner than other girls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;speaking of girls.....i'm currently addicted to bumper stickers on facebook.  and i keep coming across this one that says "pretty girls turn heads. my girls break necks"  oh my god, i hope that neck you're breaking is your own because that is the most unneccessarily vain contrivance to make yourself feel better about the fact that guys don't hit on you until their beer goggles are firmly in place.  seriously.  i hate you.  please move to an island with other girls like you so you can think up retarded sayings to your hearts content without infecting the rest of the population. and so we don't have to look at your backne because you chose to wear a tube top in february.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, i think that covers everything i've been pissed about lately.  go team.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-1813476489539516667?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1813476489539516667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=1813476489539516667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/1813476489539516667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/1813476489539516667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/3408.html' title='3/4/08'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-7183638482685811114</id><published>2008-11-08T00:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T00:57:16.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>10/10/06</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;               mindless reflections that really have no bearing on anything                                               &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p class="blogContent"&gt;so i've had a lot of time on my hands lately to think.  not the crazy thinking i usually do, but more productive thinking.  and it occured to me how sad it is when a relationship falls apart. (again, all types of relationships under the relationship umbrella)  even if the relationship wasn't/isn't exactly the best for either party, it's still something to be mourned when you can pinpoint the exact moment in time that everything crumbled.  then you're left in that crazy gray area where you're not quite sure what to do with yourself.  you know that any attempt to ressuscitate said relationship would be futile but you also know that you're not ready to give up on it yet. you may be one step away from moving on, but you're still surrounded in gray. and all you can do is wait.  you do whatever you can to pass the time.....twiddle your thumbs...masturbate...smoke....anything until that day arrives where you wake up and feel it in your body that you are finally out of the gray.  the feeling won't last long, but you'll always have the knowledge that you know what being at peace with what happened feels like.  then you'll yawn and stretch and scratch and face the day with new eyes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-7183638482685811114?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7183638482685811114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=7183638482685811114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7183638482685811114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/7183638482685811114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/101006.html' title='10/10/06'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-656818486093582655</id><published>2008-11-08T00:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T00:55:33.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5/14/06</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;               roses are red, violets are blue?&lt;/span&gt;                                             &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;another semi-sleepless night has led me to this revelation....why the fuck does that poem say that violets are blue?!?!!?  violet is described as a purpley color and while purple is in the same family as blue, no one describes purple as a version of blue.  so why the hell are violets blue?! it should be more like &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;roses are red.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;violets are....well violet.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;sugar is sweet &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;and you're kinda violent&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;ok so it's not an exact rhyme, but it's certainly better than the outright lie of violets being blue. i blame the communists.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-656818486093582655?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/656818486093582655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=656818486093582655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/656818486093582655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/656818486093582655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/51406.html' title='5/14/06'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-2936325856846466678</id><published>2008-11-08T00:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T00:54:29.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'>4/26/06</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogSubject"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;               random grievances i feel need to be shared&lt;/span&gt;                                             &lt;/p&gt;                               &lt;p&gt;i'll never be the girl who pats you on the back and says "there, there.  you did everything right. as always" if you've had a bad day.  now, if it really is a case of things not going your way, then i'll be there to make you laugh and hate the world right along with you.  but if you fucked up, i will tell you point blank. and i expect my friends to do the same for me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;lately it seems that some people have started to believe that they have somehow "earned" special treatment from me.  i treat everyone the same and don't sugarcoat anything.  granted that's partly because i'm too lazy to do so, but still. don't think, for one second, that just because you may know a lot about me, and vice versa, that it entitles you to not be called out on your shit by me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;i don't play games with anyone. i hate them.  with a passion.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;i'm getting kinda tired of being called a guy just because i'm aggessive and open when it comes to sex. i'm not a dude.  i have tits and a vagina.  and many of you have seen both on drunken nights. so um....stop calling me a guy. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;nor am i a lesbian. we all know i love penis way too much for that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-2936325856846466678?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2936325856846466678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=2936325856846466678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2936325856846466678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/2936325856846466678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/42606.html' title='4/26/06'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2613461489811734183.post-3929962861312300494</id><published>2008-11-08T00:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T00:53:01.425-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='uncanny'/><title type='text'>2/28/06</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogContent"&gt;so last night, as i was laying in bed, my random thoughts somehow came to the word uncanny.  and i began to wonder how this word came into being. dictionary.com defines uncanny as &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Peculiarly unsettling, as if of supernatural origin or nature; eerie.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So keen and perceptive as to seem preternatural. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;p&gt;however, it's not the definition that bothers me.  its the actual word.  who was sitting around and trying to find a word to explain how odd it was that two people looked so similiar??  and were they next to an actual can at the time?  was it something like "wow, you two look awfully alike for not being related...(sees can) well, you surely don't look like cans, so your resemblance to each other, is in fact, very UNcanny."  and if that's the case, anything can be uncanny, right? like this computer....very uncanny.  there's nothing canny about it at all.  its very boxy.  now would that make cans unboxy?  maybe i'll start telling people who look like someone else, that their appearance is very unboxy.  i mean, it makes just as much sense as uncanny, doesnt it??  which, of course, is none.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;i just wish i could've been there when the word uncanny was invented.  maybe to shine some light on this mystery for me.  but mainly just to slap them and be like "you have just created the most useless word in the english language.  there is absolutely no connection between what you're trying to get at and what 'can' means.  good day sir. i said good day!"&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;*le sigh*&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;my pointless ranting is done for the day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2613461489811734183-3929962861312300494?l=whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3929962861312300494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2613461489811734183&amp;postID=3929962861312300494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3929962861312300494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2613461489811734183/posts/default/3929962861312300494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whathappenedtoalphabitscereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/22806.html' title='2/28/06'/><author><name>missdelaney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13496388658844403315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EiZ905eMkPE/Tsc_jUKdevI/AAAAAAAAADI/JPt7gRluhPQ/s220/6609_135509316677_625716677_3295078_4576456_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
