<?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-8138902311908554652</id><updated>2011-08-03T19:20:41.370-07:00</updated><category term='me'/><category term='kids'/><category term='first blog'/><title type='text'>brit brat</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-7681852491074612858</id><published>2011-03-07T09:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T10:37:27.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Worth Having Comes Easy...</title><content type='html'>God granted my wish but it came with a catch; He gave me my mini me, but I have to work for it each and every day of her life! This child tests my very last nerve, robs me of sleep, eats me out of house and home, tugs at my heart, and even gave me a gray hair! But I adore her, love her, and thank God every day that she is in my life. To see her laugh, hear her talk (and she talks A LOT!), watch her sleep, and help her grow is worth everything I go through ten times over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To know Tristin is to know me... literally. She is my shadow, she is my humor, she is my attitude. The more I try to stop it, the more she fights to be what raises her. She makes me work hard to be a better person, a better woman, a better mother all because I know she's watching me so closely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am truly blessed. I hope she has enjoyed her first three years of life as much as I have and I can't wait to see what the future brings her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Tristin! Mommy loves you to the stars and back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a sample of this awesome little girl I speak of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMAiddfVKEM/TXUlygpnISI/AAAAAAAAALQ/idcR-_B5600/s1600/n1579219717_138529_2338346.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMAiddfVKEM/TXUlygpnISI/AAAAAAAAALQ/idcR-_B5600/s320/n1579219717_138529_2338346.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581408862883750178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BG9ifWbI2TY/TXUlyCYVEBI/AAAAAAAAALI/3JmA2ttE4KA/s1600/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BG9ifWbI2TY/TXUlyCYVEBI/AAAAAAAAALI/3JmA2ttE4KA/s320/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581408854758199314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4inMjOK6OEg/TXUlxtfBAAI/AAAAAAAAALA/g0Dx9H4xZ3A/s1600/n1579219717_58814_3026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4inMjOK6OEg/TXUlxtfBAAI/AAAAAAAAALA/g0Dx9H4xZ3A/s320/n1579219717_58814_3026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581408849149100034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bew5Ee7A3cM/TXUel4jb2SI/AAAAAAAAAKY/rRIg5qrpk0I/s1600/6572_1115310734510_1579219717_275659_2690973_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bew5Ee7A3cM/TXUel4jb2SI/AAAAAAAAAKY/rRIg5qrpk0I/s320/6572_1115310734510_1579219717_275659_2690973_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581400949380602146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-peXMwB2eNU4/TXUelnXpqWI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/LH3-Ypo34oQ/s1600/6412_1131306494394_1579219717_323081_3934578_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-peXMwB2eNU4/TXUelnXpqWI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/LH3-Ypo34oQ/s320/6412_1131306494394_1579219717_323081_3934578_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581400944767773026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wUpgFiaNo1M/TXUelD4mwiI/AAAAAAAAAKI/S68Mr0koU-8/s1600/5178_1111338035195_1579219717_261098_3518928_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wUpgFiaNo1M/TXUelD4mwiI/AAAAAAAAAKI/S68Mr0koU-8/s320/5178_1111338035195_1579219717_261098_3518928_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581400935242318370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cqLagnBiiYY/TXUekwow8VI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2Tpogs53ZXw/s1600/5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cqLagnBiiYY/TXUekwow8VI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2Tpogs53ZXw/s320/5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581400930075603282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rRnYZVj9rjQ/TXUey-zPuhI/AAAAAAAAAK4/rXZCG1zFCRU/s1600/37544_1419258613017_1579219717_994186_6144909_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rRnYZVj9rjQ/TXUey-zPuhI/AAAAAAAAAK4/rXZCG1zFCRU/s320/37544_1419258613017_1579219717_994186_6144909_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581401174395828754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FVfI0-DRoRo/TXUeytte2pI/AAAAAAAAAKw/j7f8QIGsf3w/s1600/25242_1327489638850_1579219717_779709_4200466_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FVfI0-DRoRo/TXUeytte2pI/AAAAAAAAAKw/j7f8QIGsf3w/s320/25242_1327489638850_1579219717_779709_4200466_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581401169808251538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zA2nB2fRKEQ/TXUeQ9vKltI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/80q1zvnkjrg/s1600/4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zA2nB2fRKEQ/TXUeQ9vKltI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/80q1zvnkjrg/s320/4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581400589994727122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNDksdeX6Tw/TXUarEni6vI/AAAAAAAAAJg/u9PD7khd6vg/s1600/149845_1575744325062_1579219717_1358465_806605_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SNDksdeX6Tw/TXUarEni6vI/AAAAAAAAAJg/u9PD7khd6vg/s320/149845_1575744325062_1579219717_1358465_806605_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581396640471902962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BxP4epczgUg/TXUa-byaJLI/AAAAAAAAAJo/malA7JhsTG8/s1600/182637_1717440307373_1579219717_1636751_3746416_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BxP4epczgUg/TXUa-byaJLI/AAAAAAAAAJo/malA7JhsTG8/s320/182637_1717440307373_1579219717_1636751_3746416_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581396973108995250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zzp-GtRA0AQ/TXUbNMfQx_I/AAAAAAAAAJw/aApJUH0llHU/s1600/167686_197579943591169_100000174930206_875878_5229623_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zzp-GtRA0AQ/TXUbNMfQx_I/AAAAAAAAAJw/aApJUH0llHU/s320/167686_197579943591169_100000174930206_875878_5229623_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581397226700195826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-7681852491074612858?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/7681852491074612858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=7681852491074612858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/7681852491074612858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/7681852491074612858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2011/03/after-finding-out-that-my-first-child.html' title='Nothing Worth Having Comes Easy...'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMAiddfVKEM/TXUlygpnISI/AAAAAAAAALQ/idcR-_B5600/s72-c/n1579219717_138529_2338346.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-6861719236938341890</id><published>2010-09-13T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T17:15:32.778-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whats Mine Is Mine!</title><content type='html'>So recently my son, my oldest, celebrated his sixth birthday. We spent a fun filled night at Medieval Times Dinner and tournament. We were on the yellow team and our knight didn't win but we ate with our fingers, cheered at the top of lungs, and came home with toys that will either be used as weapons and be tripped over my yours truly.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   Once we got home we sang happy birthday, enjoyed some store bought birthday cake, and proceeded to open presents. My son got a few toys, some plastic Cowboys and Indians, underwear, socks, and some new shoes for school. Overall it wasn't presents of the decade but he was happy just ripping open wrapping paper. It wasn't until his Dad snuck in the last gift, unwrapped, in a long cardboard box, that I became a bit confused. I had no clue what it was until my son opened it and with instinct, pointed it across the room. It was a GUN! &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TI69s9l-AXI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/34DK1YxdslU/s1600/P8240382.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TI69s9l-AXI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/34DK1YxdslU/s320/P8240382.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516555173721145714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This wasn't like a water gun, or a foam dart shooting gun. This was a Rifle...that shoots pellets. It can't kill a person but it can sure blind one and it could totally kill a small animal or rodent. &lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   My mouth was wide open in shock, disbelief, and anger. Who in their right mind would get a six year old boy a gun? Well the answer to that is: his Father. Where his Father comes from, getting guns as young children is normal and perfectly acceptable. Ok that's fine and all, but his Dad grew up in North Dakota!! People hunt to live out there. That's no where close to how southern California is. This kid can barely be responsible enough to remember to brush his teeth.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   I don't believe in killing things for fun or sport. I don't believe in guns either... Everyone in my immediate family knows this. His Father seems to think this is the only way to teach a boy how to be a man. Being an experienced Mother and  educated in the studies of early childhood development, I know for a fact that isn't the only way to teach a boy to be a man... but I am not a man. How do I make my argument and have someone fully understand that I know what I'm talking about?&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   Regardless of whether or not I am qualified, I am this child's Mother. I raised him from a baby, teaching him to talk, walk, and think. I believe he should live by my beliefs and morals until he is old enough to make some of his own. This isn't like me wanting him to play basketball but his Father signs him up for baseball... to me this is like me being a Christian and his Father making him be an Atheist.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   Up until this point I've lowkey expressed my opinions on this, but this weekend he actually killed something with this gun. Granted it was a squirrel, but still. He killed something with the gun he was given on his sixth birthday before he even knew exactly what "Death" means. This is unacceptable to me. And when picking one's battles, this is a war I am fully prepared to go the distance in even though I am an army of one.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;   Does anyone else agree with me? Disagree? If it was you in this situation, how would you handle it? Any and all opinions and/or suggestions are welcomed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-6861719236938341890?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/6861719236938341890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=6861719236938341890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/6861719236938341890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/6861719236938341890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/09/whats-mine-is-mine.html' title='Whats Mine Is Mine!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TI69s9l-AXI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/34DK1YxdslU/s72-c/P8240382.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-1220896132652963785</id><published>2010-06-01T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T19:16:46.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Man Named Courtney...</title><content type='html'>So many times when loved one gets called in to Heaven, we focus on that one act which brings us nothing but pain and heartache. We forget about all the times we had with that person throughout their life...the good times, bad times, funny, and sad times. Yes, they died but they also lived and in most cases we helped them do that. So today, instead of letting sadness overcome me I'm gonna try and relive the memories of my Father and all the reasons that made him who he was...Courtney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I can remember when I was younger, anywhere we went we were dancing. I don't care if it was in a house, at church, in a park, or in the car...wherever there was music we were dancing. And my Dad would always say someone was stealing his moves knowing darn well he didn't make them up! haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Every Sunday morning before church the smell of nair would be in the air. My Dad didn't shave, ever. So he used nair to stay smooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I can't ever remember my Dad cooking. I don't know if it's because he didn't know how or just didn't feel like it but...I think we always ate out =/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- This man could drive!! We were always whippin' down the freeway in some fly car like we were racing. He's the reason why I know how to drive with my knees so well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Wednesday night, church night! My Dad would drive all over to like four different cities picking up kids to take to church. All of my friends went and looked forward to it every week. After church we'd hit up McDonald's and whoever didn't have money to eat, my Dad would pay for. There's nothing he wouldn't do to bring someone to the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- My Dad had super skinny legs and a his middle fingers curved slightly. The only reason I remember this is because he'd change the radio station in the car with his middle finger...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He was a trend setter....or at least he thought he was. Some of his outfits were like WHAT? haha Mesh t-shirts, cross colors, Laker attire, gold jewelery, high tops, colorful suits, every hair style you could think of for a man: fro, Jerry curl, fade, lined up..everything! He always dressed to impress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I can't remember a time where he yelled at me...or even had to yell at me. My Dad believed in talking. He always understood, or pretend to understand at least. Made it really easy to come to him with anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I remember him and my Mom being really good friends. They never argued, never bickered, always got a long. That was good for us kids growing up in a divorce environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Everyone knew my Father where ever we went. And if you didn't know him, he'd still shake your hand or ask how you're doing. He was a people person and people loved him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Every year for my birthday him and I would go to dinner....just the two of us. He'd let me pick the place and as I got older, even let me drive his car. The last birthday dinner we went on somehow the waitress knew it was my birthday. She didn't know we we're coming and he never left my sight. I'll never figure that one out...but it's a good memory I'll keep with me forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point is my Dad made mistakes, didn't live a perfect life, but he never stopped trying to better himself. He never told someone in need "No", and he could always make you laugh no matter what the situation. Today I remember the Man Named Courtney for who he is, not what he was. He is my Dad and will forever be the most important Man in my life. I love you Dad.....miss you every day. Tell God I said "Whaaat up!" :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW4Fe7HtZI/AAAAAAAAAJA/33rofLfYus4/s1600/brit-oct+064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 279px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW4Fe7HtZI/AAAAAAAAAJA/33rofLfYus4/s320/brit-oct+064.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477986926105965970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-1220896132652963785?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/1220896132652963785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=1220896132652963785' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1220896132652963785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1220896132652963785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/06/man-named-courtney.html' title='A Man Named Courtney...'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW4Fe7HtZI/AAAAAAAAAJA/33rofLfYus4/s72-c/brit-oct+064.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-6152093034673043380</id><published>2010-05-18T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T16:39:18.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Must Be Doing Something Right</title><content type='html'>So I get a letter in the mail last week informing me that my Kindergarten Son would be getting an award Tuesday at his school. It explained it had something to do with achievement and I just automatically assumed it was one of those end of the year, make everyone feel special type things. No matter though, I was going to be there to support him and give him a tiny cheering section. I charged up my video camera (which I hardly ever use because I never think of it) and threw my digital camera in my purse; I was ready! I left work early and agreed to stay later so that I could make it. When I got there I saw a small group of parents sitting in the auditorium. A few of them had balloons that said "Congratulations" but overall everyone wore smiles. To my surprise though, there were only a small amount of kindergartners sitting on the floor in front of the stage. My assumption had been wrong. Only a few from each class were chosen to receive awards today and my Son happen to be one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Principle called me Son's name, which she pronounced his last name incorrectly by the way, she explained he was being rewarded for his progress and achievements in reading and leadership skills. My Son! This for a kid who could barely trace a straight line or sit still long enough to finish a page of homework in the beginning of the school year. Now he's writing, doing math, and reading entire books. I mean, I saw his progress, but his Teacher along with the Principle of the school saw it too. I was ecstatic for him! There I am holding a video cam in one hand, digital in the other, and yelling all at the same time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although the award in itself was enough to make any Parent proud, my high was elevated by two other things today. One being how excited and happy he was that I was there. Nudging all his friends and pointing me out, saying "That's my Mom right there! She has a black purse. You see her? That's my Mom. Hi Mom!". It's good to see that even though he may be growing up at a pace faster than I would like, he's not embarrassed of me yet. Second was when we were standing in the office waiting to get his award necklace he turns around to me and says, "Look Mom, I'm a leader! Just like you said I was." You're damn right Ty!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most Parents try to shove in their child's head not to be a followers. To instead lead by example and carve your own path in life. If you knew my Son, he was always following somebody else. What he saw on T.V., what his Dad thought was cool, copying other little kids...I feared for his individuality. But today when he called himself a leader, I felt like he truly believed it. If this award, although just in Kindergarten gives him the mindset and boost of self esteem he needs to continue being a leader into his adult life, I'll be the happiest Mommy in the world. In our society its so easy for children to get influenced in negative ways or lost in what is really them. I'm going to try and keep this moment fresh in his mind. Remind him what it felt like to be a leader and hopefully he will never stray from this direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama's proud Ty! Keep up the good work. I love you &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MjhRyWc5I/AAAAAAAAAII/wtKYUP2UC24/s1600/brit+100-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MjhRyWc5I/AAAAAAAAAII/wtKYUP2UC24/s320/brit+100-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472757026802529170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MjtjVVw9I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/ZzjVp-raYcU/s1600/brit+106-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MjtjVVw9I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/ZzjVp-raYcU/s320/brit+106-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472757237671117778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MkCQlLD-I/AAAAAAAAAIY/_cttd8NH7q8/s1600/download.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MkCQlLD-I/AAAAAAAAAIY/_cttd8NH7q8/s320/download.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472757593414504418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-6152093034673043380?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/6152093034673043380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=6152093034673043380' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/6152093034673043380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/6152093034673043380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/05/must-be-doing-something-right.html' title='Must Be Doing Something Right'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S_MjhRyWc5I/AAAAAAAAAII/wtKYUP2UC24/s72-c/brit+100-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-863143013089667124</id><published>2010-04-02T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T14:27:02.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Checking Your Baggage At The Door:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S7ZhFMgLNQI/AAAAAAAAAIA/zFVDSdmqMKM/s1600/MAIN_suitcases-420x0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S7ZhFMgLNQI/AAAAAAAAAIA/zFVDSdmqMKM/s320/MAIN_suitcases-420x0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455654740489352450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   A lot of times we get great advice about why a relationship isn't good for us or how we should go about getting out of it and what not...but how often do we hear words of wisdom on how to make sure we don't take that bad relationship with us into the next one? I'm sure many of us don't even realize we're still carrying some of that baggage to our next destination until 1: someone points it out to us or 2: we go to face a problem and realize we're still using the same old crappy tools that didn't work for us the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I truly believe that each real relationship that ever meant something to us even if it didn't work out should result in us being better, stronger, more educated people. You should take the good from it and enhance it, see the bad in it and make sure you don't repeat it. I believe each past relationship should assist in carving the path to the next healthier, better for us, happier relationship. Question is; how does one prevent it from carving into us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   When you allow a bad past relationship to hitch a ride on your back into your next one, you're really not giving that new relationship the chance it deserves. This new guy isn't the old one. You both are different together than you were with the last fella. A new relationship, I feel, should come with its own blank slate and hopefully the things you learned from the past one, good and bad, helped carve the right path that lead you to the new person. But if you look up and see yourself having trust issues because last dude was a liar or have problems with getting close to someone because that other person you were with smothered you 24/7, its time for you to find out where those crappy old relationships bags are hiding and get rid of them!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Now that we've established what the right thing to do is, how does one go about doing that? A lot of times we're so afraid of the past repeating itself we hold on to those suitcases as a defense mechanism. How does one go about dropped the baggage, breathing, and enter a new relationship like it was our first?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-863143013089667124?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/863143013089667124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=863143013089667124' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/863143013089667124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/863143013089667124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/04/checking-your-baggage-at-door.html' title='Checking Your Baggage At The Door:'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S7ZhFMgLNQI/AAAAAAAAAIA/zFVDSdmqMKM/s72-c/MAIN_suitcases-420x0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-1123927509475950759</id><published>2010-03-07T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T16:09:11.901-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Going on Twenty!!</title><content type='html'>Today marks the second year my Daughter, Tristin Marie Matalasi has been born. I've said it before and I'll say it a million times more; My Son saved my life, but my Daughter completed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I had always planned in my mind to have a girl. I'm not exactly sure why, but the thought of dressing her up (in purple, not pink), doing her hair, and having "girl" bonding moments always seemed like something I wanted. After news that my first child would be a boy, I knew I would try again some day for a little girl. When the news that I was pregnant again came about, the first thought in my head was "I hope its a Girl!". It's sad for me to admit that I knew I'd feel lowkey sad if I were to have another boy. Of course that feeling would pass because you love and want your children no matter what, but my heart was selfish and wanted a girl. Even after the first sex ultrasound said it was a she, I was still in disbelief. There's no way I, Brittany Glenn, would actually be getting what I wanted so easily. I'd know for sure ONLY when she was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Now her birth was a planned C-Section since I had previously had one four years prior. You think that would be less stressful seeing as how you wouldn't just be waiting around for the contractions to happen or your water to break, but let me just be honest and say that it was not. Knowing when your child is to be brought in to this world is one of the most stressful things you could ever go through. I didn't sleep a wink the night before. Having to get that epidural with no help from painful contractions or adrenalin masking the massive shot in your spine, makes you feel every single poke. Unlucky for me they put the numbing medicine up too high which caused me trouble breathing. Needless to say once she was pulled out I got about 5.2 seconds to actually spend with her before they started stitching me back up! Just long enough to snap a picture. First things outta my mouth were "IS IT A GIRL??" Finally, I could accept the fact, she was indeed, the girl I had been waiting for. 8 pounds, 1 ounce, 19 inches of beautiful baby. Although at first, she did resemble a baby gorilla....she soon grew out of that stage. Hey, I keep it real! Not all babies are born cute! haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  To give you a brief description of Tristin: She's black, white, and Samoan. Tristin was chosen for her first name because I wanted it to be a T like my Son's and the fact that I asked my cousin Tristin to be her Godmother just made sense. Her first middle name is Marie after my Sister's middle name, and her second is MATALASI which means BEAUTIFUL in Samoan. To me..it suits her perfectly. The girl loves to eat...I mean LOVES!! She'd eat all the time if I'd let her. She dances extremely well, she pretends to sing, and her favorite phrase at the moment is 'shut up'. Nice right?? Now I know all parents say this about their kids, but she is smart. Very smart for a girl who just turned two. She pays attention to her surroundings and the people in it attentively, mimicking everything everyone does and says. Sometimes that's a bad thing so we gotta watch ourselves haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  With all that said, girl has attitude. She is a force to be reckoned with! My Mother always told me I'd have a child who was ten times worse than myself as a child, as my punishment for what I put her through. Her words couldn't have rang more true! God gave me what I wanted, a girl, but he made her tough as nails! She is just such a strong female and although she bullies her older Brother (poor Ty), I know when she gets older nothing will stop her from being whatever she wants to be. I won't have to worry about her being weak or persuadable, she will be a leader. I hope she gets some of that from me...and not just the attitude or the fact that she loves food :) She is my Princess, my Mini Me...she completed mine and Ty's little family and if I acquire nothing else in life it will be just fine because I have everything that I need!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  Mommy loves you Tristin!! Happy Birthday &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q4DLagqPI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/FKEdlTbW6fg/s1600-h/IMG_0672.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q4DLagqPI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/FKEdlTbW6fg/s320/IMG_0672.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446039476652517618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q4ccggRQI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Id8or8Ntbrg/s1600-h/IMG_0782.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q4ccggRQI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Id8or8Ntbrg/s320/IMG_0782.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446039910737790210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q9srlUTsI/AAAAAAAAAHA/WE3f3iJGR6w/s1600-h/Brit-December+013-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q9srlUTsI/AAAAAAAAAHA/WE3f3iJGR6w/s320/Brit-December+013-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446045687220555458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q5IHBJO2I/AAAAAAAAAGg/TcU9f5dJPtk/s1600-h/Brittany+207.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q5IHBJO2I/AAAAAAAAAGg/TcU9f5dJPtk/s320/Brittany+207.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446040660883356514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q-uMY2S7I/AAAAAAAAAHI/EGwxF_pel84/s1600-h/brit-oct+096.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q-uMY2S7I/AAAAAAAAAHI/EGwxF_pel84/s320/brit-oct+096.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446046812718123954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q-5EUmRMI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Hls-kKjQDQ0/s1600-h/brit-oct+097.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q-5EUmRMI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/Hls-kKjQDQ0/s320/brit-oct+097.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446046999531373762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q6e0KO1bI/AAAAAAAAAGw/kcLlf7pmSQY/s1600-h/brit-sept+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q6e0KO1bI/AAAAAAAAAGw/kcLlf7pmSQY/s320/brit-sept+060.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446042150469817778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q8-Pa5qfI/AAAAAAAAAG4/-qktX-ICgjU/s1600-h/brit-nov+061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q8-Pa5qfI/AAAAAAAAAG4/-qktX-ICgjU/s320/brit-nov+061.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446044889386691058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-1123927509475950759?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/1123927509475950759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=1123927509475950759' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1123927509475950759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1123927509475950759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/03/two-going-on-twenty.html' title='Two Going on Twenty!!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S5Q4DLagqPI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/FKEdlTbW6fg/s72-c/IMG_0672.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-3556698950029309379</id><published>2010-03-01T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T13:56:19.969-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Help Feeling Like I've Failed...</title><content type='html'>So like so many of you know, I am a single Mother. As such there's things I must provide; food, clothing, shelter, unconditional Love....just to name a few essentials. But there's other things expected that because you're doing so much on your own, you sometimes can't do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend happens to be my Daughter's second birthday..and because of just starting my job, bills, and other miscellaneous things I can't really afford to throw her the type of party I'd like to. To be honest with you...its taring me up inside. My Mother (who was also a single parent) tells me all the time that we all go through it, she will have fun no matter what she does, or she won't remember she didn't have a party...and there's a part of me that knows what she's saying is true but it doesn't take the feeling away. It feels like I've failed her on her special day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like every other parent, you want to give your children anything and everything. You especially want to give them everything you didn't have as a child. Well so far, even though I'm a young Mother, that plan isn't working out too well and you're really reminded of it when an occasion like this comes up. But we'll do something, she'll get lots of hugs and kisses, eat some birthday cake, and probably have a wonderful day not even realizing she's gone without anything.....but I'll know. For now I just pray next year will be different and I can do something to trump and make up for this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone else ever feel this way? Let me know I'm not alone haha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-3556698950029309379?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/3556698950029309379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=3556698950029309379' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/3556698950029309379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/3556698950029309379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/03/cant-help-feeling-like-ive-failed.html' title='Can&apos;t Help Feeling Like I&apos;ve Failed...'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-1386912786049464938</id><published>2010-01-21T14:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T14:48:28.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Mom!!!</title><content type='html'>In honor of my Mother's birthday, I thought I'd take some time to share a few things about her, explain how she's influenced my life, and express how I feel about her (seeing as how I'm her favorite child and all!).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Theresa Yvonne, born January 21, 19....... is a Mother of three; Brianna, Brittany(the coolest), and Brandon, and Wife to Mike. After finishing school and before starting her life as a Mother, Theresa joined the Army to serve her country and got to travel all around the world. After the military she became wifey, working woman, and Mom. To this day she is still all three of those things, doing awesome in each category.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Mother has gone through hell and back, faced adversities, bleak income, bad neighborhoods, truly tough times, but always provided for her children. She is beautiful, strong, giving, caring, smart, funny(sometimes), and thoughtful. I am who I am today because of who she is. You truly don't know the hard work and sacrifice that goes in to being a parent, a single parent at that, until you become one in my opinion. Now that I am one I realize the mountains my Mother climbed, the oceans she swam, and the load she carried on her back as she did so just to give her kids lives of fulfillment and minimal lack of want. She is a person I can always count on no matter what the circumstances. She'd give me the shirt off of her back if I needed it without hesitation. People of that magnitude are hard to come by these days in our society. Even friends would agree to her generosity. She's pretty much the only consistency I've had in my life and for her I am thankful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One day hopefully I can show you the amount of dedication and love that you've shown me Mom. No nursing home for you when you get old!! Thanks for putting up with my crap and my kid's crap! Oh and thanks for the "good hair"! Love you!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYcPj1QGI/AAAAAAAAAFg/SjqDBbri7NA/s1600-h/brit-jan+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYcPj1QGI/AAAAAAAAAFg/SjqDBbri7NA/s320/brit-jan+001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429327330519892066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYgRMADaI/AAAAAAAAAFo/9UqPXWfUEro/s1600-h/brit-jan+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYgRMADaI/AAAAAAAAAFo/9UqPXWfUEro/s320/brit-jan+002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429327399676284322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYlfHNYqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/aZ2Kvu64pgY/s1600-h/brit-jan+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYlfHNYqI/AAAAAAAAAFw/aZ2Kvu64pgY/s320/brit-jan+004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429327489313628834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYp09lWoI/AAAAAAAAAF4/KAm6VlliZz0/s1600-h/brit-jan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYp09lWoI/AAAAAAAAAF4/KAm6VlliZz0/s320/brit-jan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429327563898313346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYtnPSv5I/AAAAAAAAAGA/QNEGbie_axs/s1600-h/brit-jan005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYtnPSv5I/AAAAAAAAAGA/QNEGbie_axs/s320/brit-jan005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429327628933971858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-1386912786049464938?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/1386912786049464938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=1386912786049464938' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1386912786049464938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1386912786049464938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-birthday-mom.html' title='Happy Birthday Mom!!!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/S1jYcPj1QGI/AAAAAAAAAFg/SjqDBbri7NA/s72-c/brit-jan+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-4119613517647737009</id><published>2010-01-11T09:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T11:01:34.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So whats the fine print?</title><content type='html'>Can someone please explain to me why in today's society, people (typically men) see a woman with kids and practically run in the other direction? Granted there are women out there that are shady and lazy who are looking for someone to take care of them and be a Daddy to their kids, but in my experience the single Mothers I know including myself aren't even on that tip.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This issue seems to be one I keep encountering in this thing we like to call "dating". As we get older and find ourselves still searching or re-searching for the right one, its more likely that you'll meet people who have been married or have had kids. The statistics are just higher the higher in age. But why are these things looked at like such a huge negative?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me just set the record straight! I am the woman I am because of the woman I am, not because I have kids or because of the past relationships I've been in. Sure you can it baggage, but really who doesn't have some? It all depends on how you carry it in my opinion. I like to carry mine like a soldier; Properly supported on my back, not dragging on the floor behind me or weighing down my arms in front of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps men see a woman with kids and automatically tie negative characteristics to her. Like she's easy, she's irresponsible, she's needy.....but actually in my defense its all the complete opposite. A single Mother is automatically a pillar of strength. She created and is caring for a life other than her own. Regardless of the circumstances in which the child was conceived, it was kept. Responsibility was taken and owned up to. A Mother is selfless, any which way you look at it. She gives to her children before ever taking for herself. She's a nurturer, she's a lover, she's the ideal candidate of what a woman in her circumstances should be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So please tell me why when men meet an attractive woman, mid twenties, with what seems like a good head on her shoulders, her having a child/children is her "fine print"? In my opinion a woman that is attractive, mid twenties, good head on her shoulders, and has kid being interested in &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; would make you one lucky son of a gun! If you see yourself as anything BUT that, keep it pushin'! Cuz there's nothing wrong with me for being a single Mother of two. I consider myself just ahead of the game....maybe you should take some notes and try to get on my level. I turn lemons into lemonade. How many people do you know that can do that? A single Mother turns  adversity into happiness. She should be looked upon as a CATCH. Period.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-4119613517647737009?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/4119613517647737009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=4119613517647737009' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/4119613517647737009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/4119613517647737009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2010/01/so-whats-fine-print.html' title='So whats the fine print?'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-4942359484849836595</id><published>2009-12-21T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T09:33:59.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now That Just Doesn't Seem Right</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I've written a blog entry. Part of that is because I haven't had something happen to where I felt I needed to write about it and another part is because with two kids and a job, I haven't really had the time even if something did happen. But as of recently I find myself with not only something significant to write about, but the time needed to do so.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of you knew I had been looking for a job practically the whole summer since Spring Semester at school had ended. Took me until August to actually land one and it wasn't exactly what I had hoped for but shoot, I was gonna take what I could get. I was a front desk receptionist for one of the highest ranked Salons in Orange County. Hours wise it was ideal for me because they were flexible, not too terrible of a drive, and most holidays off. Pay wise, it was a struggle but like I said, I was gonna take what I could get.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the beginning things were pretty good. The duties of a front desk employee at a busy salon were more than I had originally expected but multi-tasking and dealing with different personality individuals is something I happen to be very good at, so I picked up the job pretty quickly. What I didn't expect was some of the events that came about in the months that followed...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First would be the fact that I would be blamed for things that weren't my fault. Before investigations in the matter were conducted, accusation were already made. I'm honestly not the type of person who won't admit to mistakes, especially if they negatively effect someone else but at least make sure it was MY mistake before rep remanding me. It felt like because I was the new girl, I was made the scape goat for things that didn't go right. I would take it upon myself to look further into the situation and ask all parties involved what happened and I can't tell you how many times the conclusion was that it wasn't my fault at all. But hey, as long as I knew I had done no wrong I thought it was gonna be OK. It wasn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Second, it was expected that I act a certain way because I was part of the "front desk crew". This meant not befriending 'trouble makers' or those the management didn't necessary like, keeping an open ear to things being said around the salon so I could pass it on to those interested in hearing it, and to go along with the thinking of everyone else in the front. I'm sorry but I can't choose my own friends? Gossip? Not have my own opinions? Have you lost your mind? That certainly wasn't me and because I was unwilling to change that, it didn't sit too well with management.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lastly and in my opinion, most importantly was the racism and ignorance that I experienced. Now trust, I've had my fair share of racist comments throughout my life, but never in a work place and never from so many different people. First it was fried chicken jokes, then asking why my son looks "white", then accusing me of having an attitude because I'm black and I hate white people(Hi. My mother is white but OK....), and when an anonymous client called to complain about a receptionist being unfriendly and making her feel bad about herself when she came in describing that employee as having dark hair and big eyes...I was the only person the salon felt met that description. I don't know about you, but if I were to describe myself, my complexion might have made the list. But I guess that's just me.... I'm not even going to list the comments made by clients because well...there would be too many. All the instances mentioned were done by salon co-workers and were any of these people written up or fired? Nope. Some weren't even talked to about it at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Despite all of these things I've listed I still continued working there doing the best at my job as I could. Bullshit and immaturity isn't going to stop me from doing what I was being paid to do or stop me from rising above. I'm not a quitter nor do I run away from things when they are less than pleasant. The world isn't pleasant so if that was the case I'd be running forever. The runner in this family is my sister, not I! ha ha! But unfortunately none of that mattered because they let me go anyways. Had me come work on my day off and at the end of my shift, pulled me in to the office and proceeded to feed me lines of crap of why I wasn't working out. None of which had anything to do with my performance as a front desk receptionist. To put it mildly, I am pissed. I am confused. I know not everything in life will make sense, but there's just too much about this that just doesn't seem right....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What are your opinions? What would you do if you were in my shoes?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-4942359484849836595?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/4942359484849836595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=4942359484849836595' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/4942359484849836595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/4942359484849836595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/12/now-that-just-doesnt-seem-right.html' title='Now That Just Doesn&apos;t Seem Right'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-5796908928679018339</id><published>2009-09-30T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T12:07:14.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tell Him I Love Him...</title><content type='html'>As most of you know my Father was taken too soon from this world when I was only seventeen years old. He left behind three Daughters, a Son, a Wife, and a Step-Daughter.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SsOqoFSqYFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/v_EhHQE0bkc/s1600-h/dad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SsOqoFSqYFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/v_EhHQE0bkc/s320/dad.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387337184857186386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I found out sad news that my Step-Sister, Andrea who was the same age as myself was taken from us last year. She had been in a car accident that tragically took her life seven days later. She happened to be buried on my father's Anniversary date of his death eight years later. She lays to rest beside him.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When my Dad first told me he had a new girlfriend it didn't really phase me because if you knew my Dad, you knew him to be some what of a ladies man. But once they wed I knew this woman and her daughter would be an addition to my family. I was happy to hear that I'd be getting a sister my same age. Although close in years, Andrea was nothing like me. She was skinny and quiet. She didn't have many friends, didn't really play any sports, but we got along just the same. When I would go over to their house we'd spend hours talking about how crappy girls could be, how immature boys were, and how we wished our boobs would grow. Mine still haven't but that's besides the point. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the death of my Father we lost touch for years only to reconnect through Myspace. She filled me in on her life, I on mine. She gave me news on how my little brother, who is now thirteen was doing and we made plans for the three of us to hang out. I had expressed to her how I had been jealous she got my Dad's gold Acura and we laughed about how she didn't even like driving it. Suddenly our emails to each other stopped and I didn't know why. Well now I do, and I'm sorry to hear the reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Death is such a horrible part of life, but if ever there was someone to spend eternity with my Father is the best company. Please tell him I love him with all my heart, I miss him terribly, and I hope I make him proud. Rest In Love Andrea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SsOqHAJVZUI/AAAAAAAAAEw/O4y6xqSJlhQ/s1600-h/andreanCJ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SsOqHAJVZUI/AAAAAAAAAEw/O4y6xqSJlhQ/s320/andreanCJ.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387336616540202306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-5796908928679018339?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/5796908928679018339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=5796908928679018339' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/5796908928679018339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/5796908928679018339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/09/tell-him-i-love-him.html' title='Tell Him I Love Him...'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SsOqoFSqYFI/AAAAAAAAAE4/v_EhHQE0bkc/s72-c/dad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-3359958331949999370</id><published>2009-09-21T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T12:27:13.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cuz I'm keepin' it....cuz I'm keepin' it real!</title><content type='html'>Now I wasn't gonna address this because it seemed somewhat elementary to give attention to....but people seem to be getting things twisted so let me take a minute to set the record straight!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If there's one thing I've learned these past few years, it's that it is POINTLESS giving emotion towards things you can not control, longer than you have to. What is the purpose of getting mad over something that wasn't meant to be a part of your life? Why stay salty at someone because they didn't do what you wanted them to? It's a waste of precious time and much needed energy. Now I have not perfected the art of not giving a damn or brushing my shoulder off....but I've made progress. So as someone who was once a dweller, let me pass this little bit of advice on to those who seem to be "hating", GET OVER IT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're a dude that wanted to holler, yet I didn't give you the time of day or didn't follow you're plan of wifey'n me up, too freaking bad! Don't get mad at me, get mad at yourself for spending so much time trying to change me. You weren't the one. Take your loses and carry on with some dignity and self respect. Crying to me about how you saw things and how wonderful they would have been had I of given it a chance will only fall on deaf ears. The heart wants what it wants and I'm sorry, but that wasn't you. Kick, kick, kick rocks!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you're a ex-friend that is no longer a friend and you're mad about that.....build a bridge and...well you know the rest. There's no ill emotions from me towards you. I will always hold a little place in my heart for you because you were once a big part of my life, but there's no point in being fake and saying things are something they are not. We're adults, lets all act like it. If I'm asked about you, there will only be good things from my mouth, is it so much to ask for the same? If you really hate me that much, I will pray for you. Cuz it's a shame to live life with hate in your heart. I wish you only the best and good things for your days to come. But really, the talking about me when I'm not around and the anonymous comments on my blog need to stop. I will always love you but things are the way the are now for a reason....I'm happy. Go get your happy too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lastly, for those that don't even know me yet want to speak about me like they do......seriously? I mean I'm a cool person and all but I'm not that interesting to have you talk about me like I am. I'm not sure if it's purely jealousy or envy....maybe even hate. Whatever the case may be, its not worth it. Only makes you look dumb. I like to try and be the bigger person, doesn't always happen but I try. This is just me trying to help you out. Move on to something that will better your life, not waste your time. I couldn't care less about your opinions or comments about me. Very few truly know me and I can put money on the fact that you're not one of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in conclusion, we're all grown people. Act your age, not your shoe size. Spread love, not hate. Life is too short for all this nonsense. Have a good life :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-3359958331949999370?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/3359958331949999370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=3359958331949999370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/3359958331949999370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/3359958331949999370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/09/cuz-im-keepin-itcuz-im-keepin-it-real.html' title='cuz I&apos;m keepin&apos; it....cuz I&apos;m keepin&apos; it real!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-1989336100572375741</id><published>2009-08-24T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T11:47:32.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's kinda like my Birthday too!!</title><content type='html'>Today, five years ago....I actually think around 12 something in the morning I gave birth to a pale skinned, dark haired, 8 pound, 2 ounces, and 23 freaking inched baby boy!!!! His coming in to this world was a true test of my love for him....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pregnancy was a roller coaster of events to say the least. Once we found out I was pregnant, his Father was shipped off to do a second tour in Iraq, leaving me to go through the first and most of the second trimester by myself. Experiencing the morning sickness, first kicks, ultrasounds, finding out it was a boy...all by my lonesome. Then when it was time for Ty to come out, he decided he wanted to hang out a little longer......a whole week and a half longer! My Doctor and I were ready for him to come out so I was induced. The morning of my induction, as I headed out the door to grab some good ole' healthy Taco Bell, my water broke. I decided to still go to Taco Bell!!! Shoot I had waited how long for him?? He definitely could wait 10 minutes for me to grab a bite! So once we finally got to the hospital my contractions were underway. I didn't care who came to stop by, who was saying what to me....all I cared about was when the contraction was coming and when it was ending. By the time I finally got my epidural I was 10 centimeters and ready to start pushing. Only one problem...every time I did his heart rate dropped. At first they made it seem like not a big problem, then all of the sudden I had people rushing in and out of my room that I hadn't seen the whole time I was there. They made everyone leave and told me in the calmest voice possible "Ma'am, the baby isn't doing too well with the pushing. We're gonna need to take him out right away via C-Section." ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!?! That was the only chapter in the pregnancy books I didn't bother reading. Never did I imagine it would happen to me. So after my dramatic conversation with my Mother that started off with "In case I die....." I was being wheeled off to the ER to finally get this baby out. A quick 35 minutes later I heard my son cry for the first time. It was the most beautiful noise a Mother will hear (besides first laughs, I love you's, and thanks Mom!). Once Ty wasn't blue anymore, I got to actually see him, smell him, and kiss him. Story was he had the cord wrapped around his neck and wrist so every time I pushed, he was getting choked out. Scary stuff let me tell you!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, that hot day in August didn't just mark the day of my son's birth, but also my re-birth. Up until I became his Mother I was unsure of my purpose, confused about my direction in life, and walking the thin line of smart and not so smart decision making. I felt for the first time in a long time, I was truly alive. Everything from that day till the present has not just been to better myself, but to give him better than I give myself. I call him my Savior because he has truly saved my life from where it could have been headed. Even the worst of days are made better by his high pitched Mickey Mouse voice, silly laughter, random questions that no matter how you answer will always be followed by several Whys, his skinny little frame, big beautiful eyes, and awful dance moves. The love I have for my son is immeasurable and can barely be described. Words just don't seem to do it justice. I pray one day he will grow up and be able to understand his impact on my life. I love you Ty Courtney! Happy Birthday Son!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLS6SgY-ZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/8NVHrthj7bQ/s1600-h/MVC-032S.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLS6SgY-ZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/8NVHrthj7bQ/s320/MVC-032S.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373589204248361362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLUW8uDcpI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yFPvbyQoRtU/s1600-h/MVC-022S.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLUW8uDcpI/AAAAAAAAAEI/yFPvbyQoRtU/s320/MVC-022S.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373590796127924882" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLVKmR6jCI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/_GkhwDOWApw/s1600-h/Brittany_Graduation_2006_07.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLVKmR6jCI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/_GkhwDOWApw/s320/Brittany_Graduation_2006_07.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373591683457518626" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLWiHSFmEI/AAAAAAAAAEY/jRfXIpDV8RI/s1600-h/IMG_0320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLWiHSFmEI/AAAAAAAAAEY/jRfXIpDV8RI/s320/IMG_0320.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373593186965231682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLY58kSNoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/e-Aibjth0Ak/s1600-h/brit-august+068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLY58kSNoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/e-Aibjth0Ak/s320/brit-august+068.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373595795428882050" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 244px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLYJOObPAI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Ds89OLcDFT0/s1600-h/brit-june+054.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLYJOObPAI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Ds89OLcDFT0/s320/brit-june+054.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373594958355446786" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLRS-0HURI/AAAAAAAAAD4/6rnnr6WsumI/s1600-h/brit-august+042.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLRS-0HURI/AAAAAAAAAD4/6rnnr6WsumI/s320/brit-august+042.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373587429435855122" style="cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-1989336100572375741?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/1989336100572375741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=1989336100572375741' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1989336100572375741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1989336100572375741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-kinda-like-my-birthday-too.html' title='It&apos;s kinda like my Birthday too!!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SpLS6SgY-ZI/AAAAAAAAAEA/8NVHrthj7bQ/s72-c/MVC-032S.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-5105669360371065939</id><published>2009-08-18T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T12:56:42.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What About Your Friends??</title><content type='html'>If someone asked me whether or not I felt like I had a lot of friends, my response up until last week would have been YES. I say up until last week because I had been faced with the task of finding a ride home from the airport and had to think of who to call to pick me up. Normally this wouldn't seem like such a difficult task, but you can't just ask any old Joe Shmoe to drive to LAX for you. Its a favor for those you feel close enough to impose on. When I went down the list in my mind, I could only come up with about two people I felt close enough to even ask and still felt bad for doing so. Only two?? How the heck did that happen? Well I'll tell you.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since about the 6th grade I've had the same group of best friends consisting of about five girls. We hung out all through middle school, joined the cheer leading squad in high school, rode in the same limo to school dances, all our boyfriends were friends, each was present for birthday celebrations, holidays, special events, even after we graduated we still remained a cliche' little group called 'SMD'. But it wasn't until this last year or so I really started to look at our friendships for what they really were...which were actually not real friendships at all. Sure they were around for the good times, fun times, drinking times....but when things were bad or life was real they were no where to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on this new found information I cut my ties. I happen to be educated enough to know what real friendships are suppose to consist of, look like, and most importantly feel like. These empty titles made me feel like crap. I deserved better. These girls, as wonderful as they might have been, were not a good representation of who I was and what I believed in. I feel it was more of 'well you're popular and I'm popular so it just makes sense.' That was the WRONG reason to be someones friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this awakening I can honestly say I have like...two girlfriends but not one best friend. Is that such a horrible thing? Perhaps not because life will still continue on, but I do believe everyone should at least have one bestie. The void of a best friend hadn't really crossed my mind because I've learned to handle things on my own and at times even talk to myself, answering my own questions, but it really didn't hit me until I almost didn't have a ride home from the airport!! Why could this be? I feel like I'm a nice person, good friend to have, honest, giving....why am I without a true best friend? Is it something I lack or am I just befriending the wrong people? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the age of 2*mumbles* I'd really like to find at least one girlfriend that you can just tell anything to, rely on, and bond with. Friendship is such a beautiful thing...I see the relationships between my sister and her best friends and I'm like...wow! I really need that! Seems to be the only thing lacking in my life right now. But I'll tell you this, I'd rather not have one single friend than have five that are not worthy of the honor. Quality, not quantity. So for now I'll just wait....patiently....and pray God sends me that one best friend I can grow old with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-5105669360371065939?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/5105669360371065939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=5105669360371065939' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/5105669360371065939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/5105669360371065939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-about-your-friends.html' title='What About Your Friends??'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-1193347592383156008</id><published>2009-08-05T12:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T12:47:58.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I be offended??</title><content type='html'>Today I was at the gas station, grabbing myself a Monster like I frequently do, when in front of me stood a skinny fellow. I'd say he was about 5'10, pretty pale, blond scruffy hair, and tattoos everywhere. I didn't really pay much attention because here in Orange County you see guys fitting this description everywhere. But what made me take notice eventually as we waited for the one cashier they had on duty take his time ringing people up, was that once this young man turned and saw me, his demeanor changed instantly. Granted I did not doll myself up just to run to the store. I had my hair up in a messy I don't care fashion, summer top on with no bra(horrible, I know!), jean shorts, flip flops, and my sun glasses on because I didn't feel like applying make-up. I wasn't winning any fashion shows but I still looked presentable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me try and paint a picture of how this all went down....&lt;br /&gt;I grab my Monster from the display in the middle of the store and step in line. Dude was chillin', waiting patiently in front of me. Dude turns around, looks at me, scoots forward making him now oddly too close to the person in front of him. I then made a slight sideways face follwed by an eye roll from behind my glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't mind not being the opposite sex's cup of tea, but was ALL THAT necessary? As we stood in line waiting to be helped I started to glancing over his tattoos showing because he felt a T-shirt was not needed to get gas in the middle of the day. Last name across the top of his back, skulls and grim reapers in a collage sleeve down his left arm, stars on his calves.....nothing out of the norm here in the OC. But then I glance to his right arm and see Iron Crosses all over it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you're not familiar with what the Iron Cross is or where it came from, let me shed some light... &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SnnhKMJ__iI/AAAAAAAAADw/d5qzvn71F44/s1600-h/iron+cross.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 101px; height: 113px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SnnhKMJ__iI/AAAAAAAAADw/d5qzvn71F44/s320/iron+cross.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366567996166766114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Iron Cross was a military decoration of the Kingdom of Prussia, and later of Germany. In addition to the Napoleonic Wars, the Iron Cross was awarded during the Franco-German War, the First World War, and the Second World War.&lt;br /&gt;The Iron Cross was also used as the symbol of the German Army from 1871 to 1915, when it was replaced by a simpler Greek cross. In 1956 the Iron Cross became the symbol of the Bundeswehr, the German armed forces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This wasn't the first time I had seen an Iron Cross by any means, but the look this fellow sportin' the cross all over this arm gave me as he paid for his gas and walked out, made me take more notice about that symbol than ever before. So much that I kinda wanted to ask him like "Hey, um...do you not like people of color?" haha It just makes me so curious about what beliefs people practice based on the tattoos they display on their body. Is that like a flag for how they feel, think, act? Was it because his Great Great Great Grandfather fought and died in World War I or was he in a white supremacy group? Either way, I've never felt more uncomfortable in a gas station liquor store in my whole life. Perhaps my experience with the younger generation and their personal twists on historic symbols such as the Iron Cross, cause me to see things from a bias point of view. Maybe he just liked the design? What do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-1193347592383156008?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/1193347592383156008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=1193347592383156008' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1193347592383156008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/1193347592383156008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/08/should-i-be-offended.html' title='Should I be offended??'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SnnhKMJ__iI/AAAAAAAAADw/d5qzvn71F44/s72-c/iron+cross.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-904583135485742239</id><published>2009-08-04T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T15:38:04.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unbreakable</title><content type='html'>Sitting on the sidewalk for hours waiting, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The solitude of adolescence and the silence of one's mind, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awkwardness of a rapidly growing body and even more rapidly growing mind, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love made for adulthood yet experienced by teenagers, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The loss felt caused by the Lord calling one of his angel's home too early, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To give life and have life given back, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A partnership ripped apart by the lack of appreciation for one's spirit, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendships based on convenience and not devotion, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words said from jealousy and hate, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never thinking I could amount to anything yet everyday I strive to prove you wrong, you could not break me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life, Love, Self.....you WILL NOT break me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-904583135485742239?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/904583135485742239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=904583135485742239' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/904583135485742239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/904583135485742239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/08/unbreakable.html' title='Unbreakable'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-11240793656048841</id><published>2009-07-18T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T12:40:50.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To be or not to be......vulnerable.</title><content type='html'>The other day when signing on to the Internet from my phone I had the option to check my horoscope and since I hadn't in a while, I decided to click and see what hogwash it had to say. The advice it had for Taurus individuals was about being vulnerable to those around us, and in return that person will appreciate and want to be closer.&lt;br /&gt;Be vulnerable? In 2009? Are you crazy fake horoscope website???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reading got me thinking..why is it so many of us shy away from putting our whole selves out there? I know myself, I sure didn't. I tried my best to keep as much in as possible. This is because in the past when I've allowed myself to be vulnerable it's come back to bite me in the buttocks!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being vulnerable means to show yourself to others completely and utterly without holding back for fear of rejection or judgment. It means to say "here I am, flesh and bones. Here are my strengths, here are my weaknesses, here is where I stand-take it or leave it". Do any of us really do that? Of course not! When we first meet people, they get introduced to the BEST us. The best dressed us, best smelling, best mannered, best humor we've got. No one is truly themselves because perhaps we fear them not like the REAL us right off the bat. We don't have conversations right away  about what has gone on in our lives up to the point of this here meeting. We don't talk about the times we've fallen to the floor in defeat, cried ourselves to sleep at night, stayed with a man longer than he deserved, how when we're really laughing our voice is 10 times louder than this cute giggle you're getting now, the fact we can eat a whole pizza by ourselves, or how even though our legs are shaved today that isn't always the case normally.....we show people what we want to show them and hide what we ourselves think they might not like, but really it's what we don't like about ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You must first love and accept every part of yourself. Loving exactly what's going inside of you doesn't mean having desire to change those things. It's not a self help technique to improve because you are perfect already, you just need to realize it - 'I'm perfect with all of my flaws, fears, doubts and insecurities' Ironically, loving yourself and not trying to improve them will cause you to improve the most. People will be OK with anything that you are OK with it and that includes the darker side of yourself. If you still judge yourself for something, they too will judge you for it. They will pick up of on your fears, insecurity and judgments and pounce on them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll share with y'all and say in my previous dating experiences, I have been pounced on!!!(minds out of the gutter please!!!) And this quote before is exactly why it happened. There were things I did not like about myself and although I tried hiding them, it only made them even more apparent and boys ate it up!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My food for the thought is:&lt;br /&gt;- A person that feeds on your flaws or insecurities, does so because they themselves are insecure. Tell them to keep it movin'!!&lt;br /&gt;- If you love all aspects of you, good and bad, the right person will love them too. "One man's trash is another man's treasure"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-11240793656048841?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/11240793656048841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=11240793656048841' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/11240793656048841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/11240793656048841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-be-or-not-to-bevulnerable.html' title='To be or not to be......vulnerable.'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-8533086757655109518</id><published>2009-06-27T17:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T18:40:16.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Transformer's 2: I guess...not so funny?</title><content type='html'>Like many of you already, I went and watched the new movie Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. I thought it was pretty darn amazing. I thought the special effects were awesome, sound was incredible, and script quite entertaining and funny. But not all people felt the same way as I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Controversy surrounds the movie because of two new characters named 'Mudflap and 'Skids'. These two comedic based robots use slang, cuss words, have southern accents, and one even has a gold tooth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SkbJP2xwvfI/AAAAAAAAADI/uo1iW3W3o_M/s1600-h/transformers-2-the-twins-mudflap-skids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SkbJP2xwvfI/AAAAAAAAADI/uo1iW3W3o_M/s320/transformers-2-the-twins-mudflap-skids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352186481415863794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently it's being said that these two are racial stereotypes.....stereotypes of what? Over half the young american population?&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, when I watched the movie that thought never cross my mind at all. I thought they were hilarious! I had no idea others saw them as anything but until yesterday. Tons of people expressing their disgust all over facebook and personal blogs. Well since this happens to be MY personal blogs...I will give my two cents on the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think people need to lighten up!!! Everyone likes to make something out of nothing. Yes they used slang, but really who doesn't these days? I do and I'm from sunny southern California...Orange County to be exact! Yes they use cuss words, but in their defense so did the woman who played Shia Lebouf's Mother in the movie. Uh..she was white. Is anyone getting mad over that? No. People seem to be mad because not only did they believe the robots depicted "African Americans" but the writers also made them illiterate....so is that to mean you thought they were implying all African Americans who who speak slang, cuss and have a gold tooth are illiterate? I'm not quite understanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know plenty of people who do all the things the robots were doing and they aren't all black. Perhaps if you watched the movie, saw those characters, and automatically thought "OMG THEY ARE SO SUPPOSE TO BE BLACK!", then its you that stereotypes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting concept Brittany.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why thank you Brittany, I agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my opinion that those with a racist eye will see things not meant to be racist, as such. If they had a robot who was &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;missing&lt;/span&gt; a tooth, spit oil, and wore suspenders would you automatically assume he was a white trash robot? Would you be offended? More than likely, I'd say no. It's all meant to be funny people, not hurtful. Just laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-8533086757655109518?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/8533086757655109518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=8533086757655109518' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/8533086757655109518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/8533086757655109518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/06/transformers-2-i-guessnot-so-funny.html' title='Transformer&apos;s 2: I guess...not so funny?'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SkbJP2xwvfI/AAAAAAAAADI/uo1iW3W3o_M/s72-c/transformers-2-the-twins-mudflap-skids.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-6632194041158397813</id><published>2009-06-20T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T11:34:54.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why would you do that?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/Sj0h5VOK2mI/AAAAAAAAADA/m80rIrzUiVo/s1600-h/brit-june+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/Sj0h5VOK2mI/AAAAAAAAADA/m80rIrzUiVo/s320/brit-june+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349469201218853474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so two weeks ago I was with my family at the Pasadena Circus, which really wasn't a circus at all....more like a fair with no rides, sickly looking petting zoo animals, and the most in shape Chinese acrobats I'd ever seen in my life. While at this event two things were brought to my attention...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. They shouldn't call something a circus when it couldn't be further from the truth.&lt;br /&gt;2. What are people wearing on their bodies these days????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am what some would call a "People Watcher". Sometimes that's the best part of being somewhere with a lot of people walking around, to just find a seat and hang out watching different types of people walk by. I am amazed by the decisions people make when getting dressed in the morning. Almost as if a mirror, sunlight, or the year in which we live in was not a part of their outfit choices. Or perhaps they have someone in which they trust telling them things like "Naw baby you look slammin' in that!" or "Um...that's not out of fashion. Fanny packs are making a comeback!" Either way, if you come in to my eyesight I will point out your mistakes and giggle (behind your back of course). A few examples of what I'm talking about are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I understand skinny jeans are in fashion these days but that doesn't mean they are for everyone. If when you put them on and button them up your stomach hangs over the top making your mid section resemble something like a MUFFIN TOP, you are the type of person who should NOT be wearing them. Also gentlemen....wearing jeans that are skin tight when you have chicken legs and then sagging them below your ass is NOT the business. FYI!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Low cut shirts should be nighttime/club wear only. Females we know you got boobies...we don't need to see them poppin' out and saying hello as I feed my kids lunch. Guys, V necks are in style, but seeing your full pecks or chest hair is not needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Butt cracks, boxer shorts, thongs......all of these things should never, NEVER be seen in public. There's no excuse. Buy some pants that fit. If you sit down, bend over, or even worse just standing there and these things are showing I will say something to you. Leave the cracks to the plumbers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I suck at wearing high heels, I admit it. If I can get away with wearing flats I will do so. But if I must wear heels I will choose some that I can properly walk in. Sometimes females wear this huge hooker heels that take concentration and small steps just to not fall in. If its that much of a task to coincide with gravity, don't wear them. I don't care how cute the shoe is, its not cute to look like you're walking in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Leggings. Probably the most versatile, comfortable, and affordable article of clothing ever made. I love them! BUT!! yes there is a but....unless your legs and booty are that of an athlete or super model, wear a shirt that covers them a little. I mean c'mon ladies...I know you turn around and check it all out. If I didn't wear long shirts with them you'd see what could be mistaken for braille... no joke! So I keep the problem areas under wrap and you should too...I'm just sayin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are just a few things that catch my eye...I won't even mention trends people devote their lives to because to each their own....but it is still no excuse to not be aware of your body... its good features, and its not so good features. There's clothes out there to make anyone look fabulous. I understand it's your body but its my eyes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to add some things you've seen people wear that aren't the business too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-6632194041158397813?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/6632194041158397813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=6632194041158397813' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/6632194041158397813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/6632194041158397813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/06/why-would-you-do-that.html' title='Why would you do that?'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/Sj0h5VOK2mI/AAAAAAAAADA/m80rIrzUiVo/s72-c/brit-june+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-2866919461841117206</id><published>2009-06-08T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T13:21:45.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LL Cool J Lyrics.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Baby smile today&lt;br /&gt;Cuz I been on that journey always&lt;br /&gt;I'm gon' love you better&lt;br /&gt;When your friends'll see you too&lt;br /&gt;Just when you think there's nothin' else I can do&lt;br /&gt;I'm gon' love you better &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thought going through your mind is probably OH BRIT GOT HERSELF A MAN SHE SWEET ON!!!! MMHMM YOU GO GIRL!!!&lt;br /&gt;Wrong! I chose to post and talk about these lyrics because they are dedicated to me, by me. If there's anything I've learned recently in my life is that you gotta love yourself because if not you, then who? Not ol' dude! Shooot that's for damn sure. No man will love you if you don't love yourself....and even if you do it's not guaranteed he will love you the way you deserve.&lt;br /&gt;Friends can love you sure, but those friendships can also fade. Most friendships aren't life long so if you depend solely on a friend to love you and make you feel loved, what will you do once they're gone? &lt;br /&gt;Now you're family loves you....but that's like....kissing your Grandma. You don't really have a choice in the matter. When Granny comes in puckering and saliva lipped, you just gotta do it. Most of the time you know your fam bam is gonna love you, support you, and have your back no matter what but it's still an external love you know? True love needs to come from the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so I'm going to expose a flaw of mine and hopefully it will give you some better insight to who I am and where I've come from. I've been a person who looked for love externally. It's how I survived. I needed to be loved from men, excepted by friends, and get uber amounts of attention and praise from my family. If any lacked I felt miserable. This lead to far too many unhealthy relationships where love, respect, and honesty were absent. It also put me in friendships that weren't good for my personality, morals, or goals in life. And with family, I put too much emphasis on my failures because I wasn't praised as much I had felt I needed or wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy to say that today, I know better. Brittany *mumbles middle name* Glenn no longer thinks this way. If I had loved MYSELF all these years I would have NEVER made those decisions, lowered my standards, or blamed family for my short comings. At this very moment I know I am beautiful inside and out, deserving of love, and will never let a man set the bar for my self worth. I can entertain, confide in, and be there for myself not needing half broken, one sided, empty friendships. I am smart, have accomplished much, will be something great in life, and know my family thinks the same way even if words are not spoken about it. It was a hard road getting to this point of enlightenment and it wasn't until I found myself at the bottom alone, unhappy, and hurting that I realized I had no where else to go but up. Best believe my boots are laced, back pack on, sun block applied...I'm not stopping till I reach the top!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-2866919461841117206?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/2866919461841117206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=2866919461841117206' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2866919461841117206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2866919461841117206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/06/ll-cool-j-lyrics.html' title='LL Cool J Lyrics.....'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-2145709720727643227</id><published>2009-06-03T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T13:31:13.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my 'TO DO' list...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SibXeFK6MwI/AAAAAAAAAC4/DNsYNdhFxZU/s1600-h/Survive-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SibXeFK6MwI/AAAAAAAAAC4/DNsYNdhFxZU/s320/Survive-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343194919705654018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when life gets crazy, your mind and body are being pulled in to several different directions, and you can't quite remember what it was you were suppose to be doing...its best to write a list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like writing lists though because there it is right in front of you and you can check things off as they get done. I'm usually a very organized, planned out, well prepared person but for some reason lately I've lost touch with my survival skills. I call them survival skills because as a single parent you will sink and drown if you don't have schedules in your life. As a kid free young woman I just floated along....did what I felt like doing, didn't do what I didn't want to. Opportunity pops up, I might take it or I might not. Block of time with nothing to do? Eh...happens all the time. Shoooooot not now. Now I do what I must, don't do what I know I shouldn't, take advantage of EVERY opportunity I'm blessed with, and if I'm lucky enough to get a block of time with nothing to do I thank the lord and try to catch a nap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time for floating has passed. I am very much grounded, feet strongly planted, and thinking ahead at all times for my next move that will help better the life for myself and my children. Lately though, things have been so insane, everywhere, and non-stop that I've been losing sight on what it is I need to be tackling. So what better way to get back on top of things than posting my list right here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. find a job!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sure seems simple enough right? WRONG! my career is early childhood education but since our educational system has so politely been robbed of funding, experienced teachers are getting cut left and right and those lacking experience such as myself aren't even being considered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. take care of the divorce, child support, and lawsuit issues.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ya that is a loooong story but never the less it needs to be high on my priorities!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. sign Ty up for kindergarten!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this one I'm actually looking forward to because he's such a smart cookie and I know he'll thrive in an actual school setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. get my oil changed, alignment adjusted, and rim put back on my tire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this, if anything, is one reason why I need a man! I know absolutely nothing about cars....well no I know where to pour oil if it so happens to get low, but besides that I'm clueless. Tires need to be rotated? why? isn't that was happens when you drive? that should be rotation enough in my opinion... but no and my tire blowing out is an example of why you should get them rotated often haha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. go down to my bank and convince them on why they shouldn't punish me for my account being messed up due to the irresponsibility of someone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is honestly something I don't understand. if you go over your limit, ok your bad. take the $33 out and call it a day. but how is it my fault if someone writes me a check, I put it in my account, you clear it and make the funds available, and then the check bounces? naw you're not gonna pin that one on me. Wamu, I mean Chase can kick rocks for all I care!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. figure out if modeling is for me, then get pictures taken, and start networking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;seriously this has been in the back of my mind for a while. now that I have a break with school, losing this baby weight, and meeting new people in the industry I figured why not give it a try. I'm not getting any younger and that's the bible!(I kinda just made that bible saying up so feel free to pass it around...all the cool kids are saying it!)&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Heal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put this one last because well...its gonna take the longest. whether or not this happens life will still go on. I will still get up, my kids will still thrive, my car will still run...you feel me? but I do need to include it on my list so that it is not forgotten a midst all the chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my list. It may seem mediocre to most, but in my life it means a good day or a bad one. If you read this and think you could help out with one, a few, or all...give me a holla!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-2145709720727643227?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/2145709720727643227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=2145709720727643227' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2145709720727643227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2145709720727643227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-to-do-list.html' title='my &apos;TO DO&apos; list...'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SibXeFK6MwI/AAAAAAAAAC4/DNsYNdhFxZU/s72-c/Survive-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-5343024842892229574</id><published>2009-06-01T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T12:31:06.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You all knew this was coming.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SiQsaOhYN6I/AAAAAAAAACo/56ZadIIDI0Q/s1600-h/6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SiQsaOhYN6I/AAAAAAAAACo/56ZadIIDI0Q/s320/6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342443887054567330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those six little letters that spell out a word, who's concept I don't understand AT ALL......&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;D.A.T.I.N.G.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the tender age of 15 I have been what some would call "a relationship girl". My first serious relationship, whom at the time I thought to be the love of my life, lasted almost over five years. I'll put it nicely and say it was probably about three years too long, but hey...I was young. The next relationship came a few months after that first one officially ended. I spent a good two or so years with this one, was engaged, surprised with my first child..all that good stuff. Eh, another flopper. Within a couple months of that one officially ending I met my ex husband while attending school. Well at the time he wasn't my ex but you get the picture. I spent almost three years with him, marriage, another child....and since I call him my ex you can guess what happened with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The picture I'm trying to paint here is that I spent little time, since becoming a woman, actually playing the field and 'dating'. It's like I would end one and stumble upon the next with little or no effort. I didn't have to learn the rules, play the wait three days before calling game, pick flower petals trying to predict if he liked me or liked me not...it just was. At the young age of twenty..........*mumbles* I find myself very much THROWN in to the dating pool except I don't know how to swim!! If I were to be asked my take on how things should go down it would be as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. you meet someone and decide if you'd like to get to know them further&lt;br /&gt;2. you talk on the phone, text all day, and go out on a series of dates where you talk, laugh, dance, eat, and spray ample amounts of smell good all over yourself to leave that lasting scent impression&lt;br /&gt;3. if all goes well you make that person your boyfriend/girlfriend and focus solely on each other without the distractions of others&lt;br /&gt;4. you fall in love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See now, don't you like the way I think? So simple, to the point, no nonsense. You like someone...you tell them, show them, want ONLY them. Oh boy was I naive! I'm starting to realize I might just be the only person who thinks this way IN THE WORLD! If you've stumbled upon my blog via my sister's, you know her take on the dating game. I've never seen a person with so many rules, standards, and reasons to get yourself cut! I use to think she was insane but really everyone has their own check list. So why haven't I written one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My take on how people date today goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. you meet someone and size them up based on looks alone&lt;br /&gt;2. you hang out with them only when it's convenient to you&lt;br /&gt;3. there's no labels anymore because labels indicate some sort of commitment that prevents you from doing whatever it is you want to do, thus we don't speak about what we are&lt;br /&gt;4. love? what is this word you speak of? people don't love anymore. love is for simps and in order to not become vulnerable and take a risk, you keep people at a distance by surrounding yourself with a few to choose from as to not really get to know anyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so my interpretation might be a little off, but it's damn near close you have to admit. I have been running into problems though that could only mean two things: I suck or men suck.&lt;br /&gt;Being the fabulous person that I am I'd like to say that it's the latter, but you never know. Am I expecting too much from the dating game, or does that dating game need to rise to meet my standards?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advice, suggestions, opinions....all welcomed. But be gentle...this is all new to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-5343024842892229574?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/5343024842892229574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=5343024842892229574' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/5343024842892229574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/5343024842892229574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-all-knew-this-was-coming.html' title='You all knew this was coming.....'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/SiQsaOhYN6I/AAAAAAAAACo/56ZadIIDI0Q/s72-c/6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-50390021895811250</id><published>2009-05-24T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T15:20:01.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm under there somewhere!</title><content type='html'>So its no secret, I've had two kids. I love my children more than life itself but sometimes having children can leave your body less than desirable. It would be great if we all could look like celebrity Mom's after having children but the reality is.. we don't. I tried to enjoy my pregnancies and much as possible. Ate what I felt like eating, sat around when I felt like doing nothing, and told myself oh it will all fall off once the baby is out. Well lets just say that isn't the smartest way to go about being pregnant if you want to look as close as possible to how you looked before you had kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I had children my body was on point! Ok it wasn't anywhere near my Sister's body, but lets face it, who's is right? I had an amateur athlete's body. I was toned but not all muscular. I had a tight little stomach, faint arm cutties, and some pretty nice looking legs(if I do say so myself!). Never in my life was I over weight and really didn't have to exercise much. These days that is sooooo not the case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly didn't think too much about my weight before. I talked myself in to thinking it was acceptable because I was a Mother of two. It wasn't really until after I became single and took a long hard look at my exterior and how it made me feel that I realized something had to be done if I was ever going to be comfortable in my own skin again. It's surreal how having children can change your body in ways you never thought imaginable. Most things you really have no control over either. We can apply tubes and tubes of that dang stomach lotion in hopes of not getting stretch marks but really its all in God's hands! The markings of life will always be apart of me, but the condition and size of my body I definitely could change. So....I did! Or at least am trying to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I want to say....January of this year I've really been on it. I've been eating really good, less, and trying my best to only eat the things I LOVE on the weekends or special occasions. I'm much more active now than I was before even though I'm still lazy when it comes to working out. Not sure if that will ever change but maybe I'll stumble upon something I actually like doing that will burn calories at the same time. How many calories does watching movies burn? None? Ok....just checking! Anywho...I just thought I'd kinda share with you the landmarks of where I started, where I was, and where I am now. It's progress baby!! And I will continue to make progress until I am happy with where I am and how I look. I'm proud of myself!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnCWRScRAI/AAAAAAAAACI/QMewOr6YvmE/s1600-h/clubbin4-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 123px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnCWRScRAI/AAAAAAAAACI/QMewOr6YvmE/s320/clubbin4-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339512521078096898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;before I had kids...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnEvodp7qI/AAAAAAAAACQ/2cEJpBtDzUM/s1600-h/Brittany-New+019-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnEvodp7qI/AAAAAAAAACQ/2cEJpBtDzUM/s320/Brittany-New+019-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339515155819130530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;few months after I had my second child....biggest I've ever been! yuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnFMJXhWII/AAAAAAAAACY/JlpFVU3-6f4/s1600-h/securedownload-9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnFMJXhWII/AAAAAAAAACY/JlpFVU3-6f4/s320/securedownload-9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339515645688109186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnFMWi3z5I/AAAAAAAAACg/pBKVhm9dc4U/s1600-h/securedownload-10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnFMWi3z5I/AAAAAAAAACg/pBKVhm9dc4U/s320/securedownload-10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339515649225379730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 days ago!! If you know me at all, you know how not even Jesus himself sees me in a bathing suit so these pics were a pretty big deal for me to take! but damn if I'm not getting there!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-50390021895811250?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/50390021895811250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=50390021895811250' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/50390021895811250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/50390021895811250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-under-there-somewhere.html' title='I&apos;m under there somewhere!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShnCWRScRAI/AAAAAAAAACI/QMewOr6YvmE/s72-c/clubbin4-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-2608054454149415556</id><published>2009-05-19T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T14:06:33.648-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>"Is this your child too?"</title><content type='html'>So today I decided it would be nice if I took my kids out to eat for breakfast and spend a little quality time together...because honestly they were starting to bug the crap outta me and usually they act way better once out and about.Well while at IHOP paying for my half off breakfast because I had received a coupon on Mother's Day that I decided to make good use of, I encountered the dreaded question that haunted my young childhood. I can still remember the exactly question, the setting, and how it made me feel to that day! The question went as follows:&lt;br /&gt;"Is this your child too?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To most people this would seem like no big deal....pure curiosity right? Well to me it is a blunt reminder of how much my son doesn't look like me. I mean don't get me wrong, I don't wake up every morning crying over it. To me I see so much of myself in him but I guess to the unfamiliar eye, he looks like a kid I'm babysitting for a Caucasian neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a young girl, my mother, my sister, and I were at some counter...hotel, doctor's office....not sure but I remember the woman at the counter asking my Mother if we were her kids. For those of you unaware, my Mother happens to be white. She, like so many other women decided to marry a black man and have herself some mixed babies. Result from doing so can be that you produce children that don't necessarily resemble you. Having heard this stranger just ask my Mother whom I love oh so much, if we were hers honestly made me question if I really was. I struggled with this for years, asking her if I were adopted or something, was she really my Mom, and that if I also had a twin because for some reason when I was younger I really wanted one. All answers were no fortunately. But it was the first time in my life where someones question made me look at how my skin and my physical features looked so different from the person who gave me life. It even got so bad that I use to cry and beg my Mom to move us back to Long Beach so I could be around people who looked more like me. NO JOKE!! She even remembers this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, this random waitress' comment today stood out to me, not because I myself haven't gotten over that childish nonsense with my skin color, but because I don't want my son to ever feel the way I did as a child growing up with a Mother that didn't look like me. I don't want him to look at his sister, who actually happens to be darker than me and asking himself why he isn't the same color as her. Actually I wish color of skin or ethnicity wasn't ever a factor or something thought about in his life. But with our ignorant society more than likely it will be. Let's just hope he doesn't ask to move to North Dakota to be around people who look more like him....because that isn't gonna happen! ha ha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShMZJH5ggwI/AAAAAAAAACA/0oJtvsFt2Sw/s1600-h/Brittany-New+043.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 278px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShMZJH5ggwI/AAAAAAAAACA/0oJtvsFt2Sw/s320/Brittany-New+043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337637627893940994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                            (My Savior in Disguise, Ty)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts, comments, advice? Leave it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-2608054454149415556?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/2608054454149415556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=2608054454149415556' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2608054454149415556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2608054454149415556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/05/is-this-your-child-too.html' title='&quot;Is this your child too?&quot;'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShMZJH5ggwI/AAAAAAAAACA/0oJtvsFt2Sw/s72-c/Brittany-New+043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-9116129232984678926</id><published>2009-05-19T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T09:28:50.658-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>My Official Grand Opening!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShLeFILypOI/AAAAAAAAABY/fcgFzFMEJzA/s1600-h/brit-april+024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShLeFILypOI/AAAAAAAAABY/fcgFzFMEJzA/s320/brit-april+024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337572688065111266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off let me say WELCOME and thank you for stopping by and reading my blog. Like I mentioned previously, I had been thinking about writing my own blog for some time now but felt I was more of like a witty comment here, something funny there, or one of two serious comments when needed....but a whole blog with my words? CAN IT BE DONE? Well we are about to find out ladies and gentlemen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think it's appropriate to include in my introductory blog, a little about the person writing it.&lt;br /&gt;For starters if you didn't catch it, my name is Brittany, I'm in my mid 20's, ethnically mixed, mother of two, currently a college student, loves the color purple, deathly afraid of spiders, eats circular food actually in a circle so that the middle(which is the best part) is left for the last bite, and sometimes sounds British when asking questions. Yeah no idea where the last one comes from...it just kinda happens. Perhaps it was my obssession with being Scary Spice from the Spice Girls, when I was younger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life, up to this point has been a 'wild ride' to put it softly. Full of ups and down, twists and turns, high speeds, and rough stops. Occupied with all sorts of emotions ranging from happy all the way down to "is this rock bottom? cuz it sure is dark and rocky..." But regardless of where my life has taken me, its my life and I embrace every day to see what it will bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically my goal for this here blog is to just share my life with you. Share me, my thoughts, feelings, ideas, opinions(which you all know I have tons!!!), and advice. My writing will probably be a little rough around the edges seeing as how I'm not use to thinking about how others will perceive things I write, so I apologize now for things I may say later. That's still sincere isn't it? haha oh well, anyone who knows me knows everything I do comes from a good place. So yeah, I'm super excited and can't wait to get to writing!!! just as soon as I get back from breakfast cuz a girl be huuuuuuuuuuuungry!&lt;br /&gt;Have a blessed day :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-9116129232984678926?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/9116129232984678926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=9116129232984678926' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/9116129232984678926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/9116129232984678926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-official-grand-opening.html' title='My Official Grand Opening!!'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/ShLeFILypOI/AAAAAAAAABY/fcgFzFMEJzA/s72-c/brit-april+024.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8138902311908554652.post-2352213281164688676</id><published>2009-05-18T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T21:59:46.402-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first blog'/><title type='text'>You Asked For It......</title><content type='html'>Well I've decided since so many people have encouraged me to start my own blog, I might as well try it out. So it is coming......VERY SOON!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8138902311908554652-2352213281164688676?l=brittanypersonified.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/feeds/2352213281164688676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8138902311908554652&amp;postID=2352213281164688676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2352213281164688676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8138902311908554652/posts/default/2352213281164688676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brittanypersonified.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-asked-for-it.html' title='You Asked For It......'/><author><name>brit brat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07309160595598445054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vFnVgVMPImA/TAW2K8q5niI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qpUxmc-5Dic/S220/download.2-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
