<?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-9581461</id><updated>2011-11-06T13:41:59.582-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Many Flavors of My Life</title><subtitle type='html'>"When you gonna make up your mind/when are you gonna love you as much as I do/when you gonna make up your mind cause things are gonna CHANGE so fast..."  Tori Amos</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>54</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-115024544599682855</id><published>2006-06-13T19:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T19:37:26.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Say Goodbye.......</title><content type='html'>I think that's a Bon Jovi song......yup, from 'Slippery When Wet'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Never say goodbye, never say goodbye&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You and me and my old friends&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hoping it would never end&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never say goodbye, never say goodbye&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holdin' on--we got to try&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holdin' on to never say goodbye"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the memories of 'Slippery When Wet'.  Livin' on a prayer is one of my favorite songs--ever.  I have very fond memories of being in Harry's and someone plays it on the juke box and the WHOLE bar would sing.  Fabulous....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, goodbyes.  My good friend from work (you know, the one I'm in love with) put in his 2 week notice today.  He is moving back to Indiana.  I totally get why he's doing it, it's really good for him and his family.  Sucks for me!  Who am I going to flirt with now?  Who am I going to vent to when work sucks?  Who am I going to have afternoon chair talks with?  Who's going to know just by looking at me that I don't feel good.  Beyond the whole attraction thing....he's my friend!  I'm going to miss my friend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-115024544599682855?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/115024544599682855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=115024544599682855&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/115024544599682855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/115024544599682855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2006/06/never-say-goodbye.html' title='Never Say Goodbye.......'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-114429308251253369</id><published>2006-04-05T21:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T22:11:22.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>IT'S NOT OVER--just on delay</title><content type='html'>I know I haven't posted in a while.  I just haven't really had anything to say.  Or I've had things to say but just didn't feel like writing it down.  Or I've really wanted to post but it's been the way wrong time....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So....here's an update on my life at the moment:&lt;br /&gt;1.  school:  I'm taking 2 classes right now.  The Monday night Statistics class (over the last week of April).  I just finished my second test and things are going well.  The second class started last Saturday.  It's 8:30 am to 4:30 pm (with an hour lunch break).  It's a killer.  I was so drained after the class last week that I just came home and laid on the couch.  I have 3 more of these to go.  It sucks, but at least it's only 4 classes and I just have to drive to Oak Brook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  work:  Fine.  My work load has slowed or more correct is that I'm so on top of things that I have a list of things I'm waiting for other people to do so I can do more work.  So, I've had a lot of down time.  This I've used to my advantage.  I've been working on my Statistics class at work during my down time.  I don't have real "down time"  because I'm always working on at least 5 other things at the same time.  However, while samples are concentrating or being analyzied on the GC-MS I have 20 minutes here, 30 minutes there where I have waiting time.  So, I've been using that to my advantage.  Other than that they took away our summer hours.  YOu know where I got to take every other Friday off in a 12 week period.  This wasn't free, we had to work an extra hour every day to get the time off.  They said that since our OI numbers were down we needed to FOCUS on getting them up.  So, taking away a nice perk (that we didn't get for free) because they're mean.  Good thing my next week of vacation kicked in (I get 3 weeks now that I hit my 5 yrs).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Love Life:  NOTHING.  I just don't know what to do.  Do I join a new "website"?  Do I start going to happy hour at the local bar?  Do I go to church more often?  Do I just start walking up to guys and say, "hi my name is ___, would you go out with me?"  I'm OK being single, really, it's just there are times that it really sucks.  There are so many things that I want to do and see and it's so hard to do that by yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Books:  I've been reading a lot (in between homework).  In the past month I've finished "The Last Days of Dogtown" by Anita Diamant----LOVED IT.  It was soo great.  It made me laugh and cry and feel.  It's just Fabulous.  I also finished "Change me into Zeus's Daugher: a Memoir" by Barbara Robinette Moss.  I got this book for by birthday.  It's different that things I've read before in that it's based on someones actual life.  It was hard to read because it was depressing and sad and hard to understand how someone can stay in the particular situation described.  I'm greatful that I didn't grow up in the situation like in the book, but it doesn't make me less sad that someone else had to.&lt;br /&gt;Currently I'm reading "Love Medicine" by Louise Erdrich and "The Pact: a love story" by Jodi Picoult.  Louise Erdrich is one of my favorite authors and reading this book helps me understand some of the characters that are in her other books.  Maybe I should have read this one first.  So far it's great.  "The Pact" is different.  It's a murder/sucide/family/friend entanglement story.  I got this one as a present.  I don't usually pick books like this, however it's good to be exposed to new genres (spelling).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Vacation:  I now have 3 weeks.  Although I using a week in May.  I'll just be in IN, but it's for my sisters who are both graduating.  I also joined this vacation program tonight.  Hopefully I don't regret it tomorrow.   But I don't think I will.  I can't wait to figure it all out so that I can explain it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-114429308251253369?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/114429308251253369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=114429308251253369&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/114429308251253369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/114429308251253369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2006/04/its-not-over-just-on-delay.html' title='IT&apos;S NOT OVER--just on delay'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-114075074684088350</id><published>2006-02-23T20:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T21:12:26.853-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Flirting is Mandatory</title><content type='html'>Tonight I went to a wine tasting hosted the apartment complex where I live.  It was lots of fun and I won a raffle prize.  Which was really exciting since I never win anything.  I also ended up buying 4 bottles of wine.  The group that does private "in home" tasting.  Kinda like Mary Kay, but wine.  Which might be fun for a party/bridal shower kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as I was tasting one of the red wines I was eating a piece of Dove Chocolate.  The ones with the messages inside the foil wrapper.   The wrapper said that "Flirting is Mandatory."  I thought this was a fabulous message.  Something I don't do enough of or really get the chance to do a lot or better said take the chance to do.  But the possiblity is out there....everytime I walk into a store, walk out my door....the possiblity is there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-114075074684088350?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/114075074684088350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=114075074684088350&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/114075074684088350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/114075074684088350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2006/02/flirting-is-mandatory.html' title='Flirting is Mandatory'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113893180069421546</id><published>2006-02-02T19:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T19:56:58.746-06:00</updated><title type='text'>blah blah blah blah</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling blah. I can't figure out my stats homework. I'm bloated and have major cramps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the bright side, tomorrow is Friday, Andrea's coming to visit, and some friends are taking me out to a fabulous dinner for my birthday on Sunday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113893180069421546?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113893180069421546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113893180069421546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113893180069421546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113893180069421546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2006/02/blah-blah-blah-blah.html' title='blah blah blah blah'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113712106058445217</id><published>2006-01-12T20:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T21:05:01.190-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuse me, how much?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8156/703/1600/DSCF0114.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8156/703/200/DSCF0114.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been needing to get my hair cut and my highlights fixed for about a month now. The girl I have been going to always did a good job and all, but I was tired of driving there and it wasn't very convienent. So, I decided to treat myself and make an appointment at the local Mario Trocci's. I went online and had them give me the first available apt for a color and cut. Now, I've never been to this particular establishement and I don't know if i'll go back. All was fine, and I was treated nice. I was comfortable and I didn't feel weird. So, not thinking about making a random anyone apt, I think I got put with the most senior/most expensive colorest and stylest there. Anyway, I decided to go a little darker with my color. I was hoping to do something a little more suttle that way when it grew out it wouldn't be so noticible. As I talked to the color girl I said I wanted my natural color with red highlights. It turned out really good...a little more red than i was expecting. The guy that cut my hair, and this is the first time I've ever had a guy cut my hair, was very nice and he did a great job. So, I'm all done and head to check out. They then tell me my total. I almost passed out. I have never spent that much on myself for something such as my hair. As I was driving home I was kicking myself for being so selfish and vain. Even though I think I really like it. What the hell was I thinking? Is hair worth that much? Am I? I don't know that I could do it again....at least the next time I'd be prepaired and I wouldn't have to get both done at the same time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113712106058445217?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113712106058445217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113712106058445217&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113712106058445217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113712106058445217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2006/01/excuse-me-how-much.html' title='Excuse me, how much?'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113695236913701393</id><published>2006-01-10T21:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T22:06:09.150-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My boring life</title><content type='html'>So, I had my first stat class last night.  Video conference.  Interesting.  Plus the prof is NEVER going to let us out early.  He is going to go the whole 3 1/2 hrs plus some.  The first class we had to remind him class was over.  On my way home I called my sister to say hey.  She asked me what was happening.  I said nothing...my life is boring.  She got mad at me.  She said that I was putting myself down and that I shouldn't talk like that.  How is saying that life is boring "putting myself down?"  Really, my life is not exciting.  Which in all actuality is fine.  I'm pretty content with myself and life at the moment.  Which is pretty good, I think.  I'm almost done with Grad School.  My job is actually pretty good and I feel appreciated.  I like where I live.  I feel safe and secure.  I say my life is boring because I don't do to many exciting things...I don't have the time or money really.  What's wrong with boring?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113695236913701393?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113695236913701393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113695236913701393&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113695236913701393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113695236913701393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-boring-life.html' title='My boring life'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113570833608293121</id><published>2005-12-27T12:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T12:32:16.096-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Year End Review</title><content type='html'>The Thursday before Christmas I had my year end review.  I was braced to go in and yet again explain to them that I am under paid and they better do something to fix it.  As it turns out I didn't have to.  I got a 10% raise.  Can you believe it?  That's unheard of.  I'm still not exactly where I'm supposed to be, however I am much closer.  Also, for all my hard work for the year I got a year-end bonus!  This I was not expecting at all because I got one last year.  And this years was better than the one I got last year.  I was so shocked that I almost fell out of my chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, right now I'm debating about whether or not I should be practical and pay down my credit card from my car, or just go shopping and treat myself to some things that I've been wanting for a long time now.  I'm leaning toward treating myself.  I'm always practical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113570833608293121?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113570833608293121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113570833608293121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113570833608293121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113570833608293121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/12/year-end-review.html' title='Year End Review'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113504776848891380</id><published>2005-12-19T20:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T21:02:48.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Salsa Lessons</title><content type='html'>The instrustor from my salsa class at the apartment complex called a few weeks ago and asked if I wanted to take private lessons.  I said sure.  Well he called me tonight and said he had a guy who wanted to take private lessons and wanted to know if I was willing too.  I said sure.  Well the instructor has been sick and I never got my last lesson, so tonight I had a lesson with 'Dave' my new salsa partner.  So, for private lessons I get 5 more.  A good way to get through January.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113504776848891380?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113504776848891380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113504776848891380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113504776848891380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113504776848891380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/12/salsa-lessons.html' title='Salsa Lessons'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113504744800412085</id><published>2005-12-19T20:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T20:57:28.026-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn Car</title><content type='html'>My Engine Light is on.  AGAIN!  I don't know what the hell is wrong with it this time.  Probably the tape they used to fix the O2 sensor fell off.  It's not acting funny so hopefully I can make it home for Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113504744800412085?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113504744800412085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113504744800412085&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113504744800412085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113504744800412085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/12/damn-car.html' title='Damn Car'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113202411122662171</id><published>2005-11-14T20:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T21:08:31.240-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My favorite guy in the lab</title><content type='html'>I was leaving work this evening about 10 minutes to 5.  I packed up my stuff and headed out to my car.  I get in, throw my purse on the seat next to me, put the key in the ignition and turned-nothing.  No noise, nothing.  After I say a few choice curse words I head back inside to see who's left in the lab that would help me out.  As my luck would have it my favorite guy in the lab was still working.  I walked over and sat in his chair.  He asked me what was up and I said my car is dead.  He's said it sounds like your battery is dead, lets go have a look.  So, he wrapped his work for the day and we headed out.  I always keep jumper-cables in my car so the first thing we tried is to jump my car.  That didn't work.  So, my good friend went back in the building to find tools and a flashlight so we could take the battery out to go have it tested.  He comes back to the car and I hold the flashlight (with this stupid day light savings time it's dark at 4pm around here).  Anyway, as he's trying to fanagle the battery out of my car (there's 4 screws he has to unscrew) it starts to rain.  Not a soft rain, but a cold hard rain.  I swore again.  There was trouble with the bottom nut that holds the battery in place so we had to go on the hunt for another wrench.  Finally we get the battery out and he puts it in the trunk of his car and we head out to find an Autozone or Pepboys.  Meanwhile it's pouring rain outside.  We get to Pepboys and have then test my battery.  My battery is dead.  So,  I purchase a new battery and we head back to my car.  My job again is to hold the light so he can see.  However, now I'm cold and wet and couldn't stop shaking.  At least now the rain had slowed down to a lite drizzle.  He gets the battery hooked back up and we try it out.  My car started right up.  So he made me promise to call him on his cell if had any issues on my way home.  I thanked him about 40 times and told him I now have to make him a blueberry pie as a thank you for all his help.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113202411122662171?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113202411122662171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113202411122662171&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113202411122662171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113202411122662171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/11/my-favorite-guy-in-lab.html' title='My favorite guy in the lab'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113168228864486026</id><published>2005-11-10T22:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-10T22:11:28.660-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I had a date</title><content type='html'>I joined a online dating service again and tonight I had a date with a guy that I started chatting with online.  We talked twice on the phone and decided to meet for dinner.  It was actually a good time.  Not some jackass who just wants to get laid and then when you turn him down tells you you're ugly.  It was nice just to be able to relax and enjoy myself at dinner.  We meet at a resturant called the "Key Wester Fish and Pasta House" in Naperville.  It was pretty good.  He bought dinner, although I offered to pay for my dinner he said no.  I don't think he's "the" guy, however he was a nice guy.  His name is Steve and works in construction.  He told me that he'd like to take me out again if I wanted, but that I didn't have to if I didn't want to.  The evening ended with a hug good night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep you posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113168228864486026?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113168228864486026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113168228864486026&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113168228864486026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113168228864486026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/11/i-had-date.html' title='I had a date'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-113020841129415751</id><published>2005-10-24T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T21:46:51.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Salsa Dancing is so much fun!</title><content type='html'>Upside:&lt;br /&gt;I just finished my 3rd Salsa lesson.  I've having so much fun and picking it up pretty quick.  It's also a fabulous work out.  I'm really glad I signed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Downside:&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling really bad about myself lately.  I keep telling myself to snap out of it and I'm ok for a few days and then it starts all over again.  I've been so busy with school and work that I haven't had time to think about much of anything.  I feel ugly and unwanted.  I know that I'm not.  I know that I'm not........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-113020841129415751?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/113020841129415751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=113020841129415751&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113020841129415751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/113020841129415751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/10/salsa-dancing-is-so-much-fun.html' title='Salsa Dancing is so much fun!'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112829826430844721</id><published>2005-10-02T18:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-02T19:11:04.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life at the moment</title><content type='html'>Just thought I'd catch you up on what's happening with me.&lt;br /&gt;1) school:  going ok.  I'm in the middle of 2 classes and am going to be crazy for the next 5 weeks trying to read and study everything I need to for both classes.  I'm really excited about the flavor class I'm taking becasue I can apply it to what I do at work.  My next packaging test is Sat. Oct. 22nd.&lt;br /&gt;2) Salsa Dancing:  My apt. complext it offering Salsa lessons.  I thought it would be fun, so I signed up to take them.  It's a 6 week class.  Every Monday night for an hour, statrting Oct. 10th.  I'll let you know how good/bad I am at it&lt;br /&gt;3) Apt:  I got notice that if I want to resign my lease I have to do it this month.  They're raising my rent by $40/month.  However, I really like it here and really don't want to move.  So, unless any unforseen thing happens before the end of the month I will be resigning my lease.  I also put up my "autum" decorations and it looks so cute, you'll have to come and visit.&lt;br /&gt;4) Craig's List:  Have any of you heard of this?  It's a website that has all kinds of stuff from personal adds to apartment ads to job postings.  Well, as you know I have had really bad luck with dating and the whole internet thing.  A friend of mine said that I should try Craig's List.  So, last night we went online (we were having a girlie night and I was helping her make a blueberry pie for her boyfriend) and looked through a ton of posted ads.  I replyed to 5 of them.  Just a note to say a little about myself and if they were interested email me back.  Of the 5 I email I got replys back from 2 today.  They said I sounded like someone they'd like to get to know and asked for a picture.  So, I emailed them back and sent a cute picture of me.  We'll see what, if anything, happens.  Hopefully I'll have some funny date stories for you soon.&lt;br /&gt;5) Book(s) I'm reading:  I'm trying to get through Ishmael by Daniel Quinn.  Teach let me borrow it a while ago.  I'm having a hard time getting through it.  I might just give it back so she doesn't think I stole it.  Other than that I've been reading about flavor analysis techniques and different types of packaging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112829826430844721?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112829826430844721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112829826430844721&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112829826430844721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112829826430844721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/10/life-at-moment.html' title='Life at the moment'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112562980845958364</id><published>2005-09-01T21:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-01T21:56:48.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>thoughts in my head</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged in a while and really there is nothing going on worth bloging about in my life.  Just the random thoughts in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cannot wrap my head around the damage &amp; destruction left behind by the hurricane.  It's hard to look at pictures of New Orleans and know what the place used to look like, walked the streets that are now flooded.  I was there a month ago.  I cannot understand the looting and reports of beatings and rape going on.  I have to tear myself away from CNN because I can't take looking at the despiration on people's faces and there is nothing that I can do about it because the next thing I know I have tears running down my face.  I hope order is resolve fast and that someone gets a handle on coordinating relief and aid and that the people get comfort and know that they're going to get help and not have to steal, beat, or rape someone to survive to the next day.  I cannot wrap my head around it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grad school:  I signed up for 2 classes this semester.  One was a biochem-human metabolism class.  Only 4 people signed up for the class so they dropped it.  I guess human metabolism is not very exciting.  I was worried about taking it, but it was 4 credits.  Oh well.  So, instead I'm taking a class about packaging.  Which is online with 3 saturday's where I have to go and take an exam.  The other class I'm taking is a flavor chemistry class.  It's 5 weeks long, starting the last full week of September and going through October.  The first description of the class they had that there were lectures on Thursday nights from 6-9 and then all the Saturday's during this 5 week period we'd have to drive to Champaign, IL for labs.  Well, it turns out that during this 5 weeks there is class on Thursday and that the only Saturday I have to drive to Champaign is the last Saturday of the class.  Much better than 5 Saturday's in a row.  They did a horrible job of communicating the classes and descriptions this sememster.  Horrible.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;work:  fine, annoying, boring.  At least the dumb ass that slept all the time is on medical leave again and I don't have to worry about trying not to lash out at him.  I really do hope the man is fine and I do not wish him ill or death.  I just wish he'd get a work ethic or that someone higher up management type person would catch on that he's milking the system or just move him so I don't have to witness his sleep patterns.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;love life:  don't have one and I'm starting to think I'll never have one with anyone other than my vibrator.  At least it knows all the right spots and won't give me any diseases.  Anyone know a good catch who'd want to move to Chicago?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;speaking of diseases....I had my yearly gyno visit on Tuesday and they asked me if I wanted an STD test to go along with the Pap smear.  I at first said no to the nurse and then my Dr. and I were talking about it when she came in to do the scraping and I said I hadn't been active in a while and I wasn't sick or worried about being sick so I really didn't need to be tested.  She looked at me so Dr. like and said if I did have an STD I probably wouldn't know it.  I decided to get it done.  Doesn't hurt and at least if I start having sex on a more consistent basis (besides my vibrator) then I can be confident about results.  Now, I really don't think I have anything to worry about, but in the back of my head I'm a little freaked out.  I get freaked out about the normal pap smear every year too.  Because this year could be the year my cancer comes back or I've grown another tumor.  Every time I get cramps where my right overy should be I freak out a little.  Not to the point of being neurotic about it but it's always in the back of my mind.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that's enough of my head for now.  I don't want to scare anyone. ;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112562980845958364?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112562980845958364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112562980845958364&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112562980845958364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112562980845958364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/09/thoughts-in-my-head.html' title='thoughts in my head'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112416317693174632</id><published>2005-08-15T22:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T22:32:56.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Orleans Cont....</title><content type='html'>I realized after I put "to be cont....." that I really don't have that much more to say about my New Orleans trip.  I drank a lot.  I danced a lot.  I did a lot of shots off a shot girl.  I did a shot out of a guys pants.  I got beer dumped on my head while walking down Bourbon Street.  A drunk married man made a pass at me in the elevator when I was walking his drunk ass back to his room becasue he couldn't stand up straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of my stories are not very intersting and you really just had to be there.  So, what happened on Bourbon Street will just have to stay on Bourbon Street.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112416317693174632?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112416317693174632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112416317693174632&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112416317693174632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112416317693174632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-orleans-cont.html' title='New Orleans Cont....'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112320981362792348</id><published>2005-08-04T20:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T21:43:33.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Orleans</title><content type='html'>I had a fabulous time in New Orleans last month.  The only bad thing about it was the humidity.  I was dripping half the time.  I partied like I haven't in years.  I went out every night I was there and I danced and drank and danced some more.  I was dubed the "dancing queen" by my friends from work.  It was fabulous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bourbon Street:  I have never never seen or smelled anything like it.  There was bar after bar after bar after strip club after bar after strip club after strip club after bar as far as the eye could see.  You just stop in buy a hurricane and walk on down the street.  It was weird being able to carry my drink everywhere (as long as it was in a plastic glass).  There were lots of people about.  I cannot imagine if it was a crazy as it was in July how much crazier it gets during Marti Gras.  I don't think I could handle Marti Gras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The smell.  OMG the smell.  It was a mixture of trash, sewage, sweat, urine, and alcohol all mixed into one.  All of New Orleans smelled like this, but it was the most offensive on Bourbon Street.  You needed to drink to dull your sence of smell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112320981362792348?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112320981362792348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112320981362792348&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112320981362792348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112320981362792348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-orleans.html' title='New Orleans'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112148305748281786</id><published>2005-07-15T20:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T22:04:17.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Online "dating"</title><content type='html'>I have tried a few online dating services over the past few years. I tried e-harmony for a few months, after paying a few for a few months with not so much as a date I quit that and took a break. The next one I tried was match.com. This one was worse than e-harmony, no one talked to me and no one I would "wink" at responded. It was not good for my self-esteem. I took another break. The most current one that I have tried is yahoo personals. On this one I've at least been out on a few dates....With CRAZY people. I decided to quit paying for the service, however I still have my profile listed online. Therefore, I get random instant messages when I'm logged in. Some of these instant messages have led to dates....With CRAZY people. I must still have hope that one day I will chat with someone who doesn't end up being CRAZY, because I still chat with the random people who im me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I wanted to tell you about last night. I was online checking my email, and printing out my flight information for my New Orleans trip when I start getting instant messages. For awhile I was chatting with 4 guys at the same time. Two of which were very complementary of my profile and picture that I have posted. Don't get me wrong, it's nice when a guy tells you that your cute/beautiful/sexy. It is not nice when it gets creepy, as it often does. For example, one of the guys was telling me how beautiful I was and how great of a person I was and that he wanted to date me and couldn't wait to start and lets go out for coffee right now. First of all he was 46 yrs old (too old for me--granted it's not all about age, but I have to draw a line somewhere--and almost 20 yrs my senior is a deal breaker). Second he said that he knew how great a person I was....how the hell can he know that? Granted, I am a fabulous person, however, no one is going to know that just by reading a few lines of a personal add. I think that it's good that I was able to portray something good in my ad, but just because a guy reads it does not mean that he knows me. Third, and possibly the worst thing that a guy can do when he's chatting with me for the first time, is ask me when the last time I had sex was. What the HELL? I do not feel that this is an approate question to ask someone the first time you talk to them (or the second or third--unless I bring it up and you're you're someone I think is worth my time). How is it relevant? Weither it was 20 minutes ago, 2 days ago, 2 weeks ago, 2 years ago, or while I'm typing, it's no one's business but my own. That question really pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, why does a guy have to know that exact time you talk to them if you'll "start" something with them. The second guy that was so complimentary, said that he knew me and that he knew that he wanted to start something with me. He said that he didn't want to waste him time chatting and emailing for months on end, he wanted to know if I was interested right there and then. My answer was sorry, but no. I cannot tell, but just chatting with someone one time that they are someone I want to go out on a date with. I also said that i'd like to email a few times and if things went ok with that, then talking on the phone was the next step. If the phone conversations were good, then meeting for a drink. The whole process could take as little as a few days to a month depending on how things go. This however, was not good enough for guy#2. Too bad for him. I have to be careful to weed out the CRAZY guys as much as possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112148305748281786?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112148305748281786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112148305748281786&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112148305748281786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112148305748281786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/07/online-dating.html' title='Online &quot;dating&quot;'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112123014371807433</id><published>2005-07-12T23:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T23:49:03.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Those less fortunate</title><content type='html'>Every Tuesday night for the past 2 months I have hopped on the train after work to head to the City.  From Union Station I walk to the Brown line to get to North Avenue.  From there I walk through part of Lincoln park to get to North Beach, where the co-ed volleyball rec league plays.  Today was not anything extra ordinary, rainy but nothing special or different.  Today I noticed more people shakin' a cup for spare change than normal.  Now, I don't think of these people as less than me and I wish that I do something to help them out of what-ever situation that they are in without being expected to give money.  I don't have the money to give them any.  I do however offer a smile as I walk by and try not to feel bad for not filling up their cup.  This is something that I see and feel every time I'm in the city.  However today I saw something that really sadended me.  I was almost to the 2nd train I had to get on and on the corner sat a women holding a sign, I didn't read all of it, something about having 5 kids...she had one of her kids sitting next to her on the corner.  I was in shock.  I wanted to cry and ask this women that was she doing to her child?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112123014371807433?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112123014371807433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112123014371807433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112123014371807433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112123014371807433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/07/those-less-fortunate.html' title='Those less fortunate'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112104979656686082</id><published>2005-07-10T21:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T21:43:16.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flags of Our Fathers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8156/703/1600/washington%20DC%20628.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8156/703/320/washington%20DC%20628.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is a picture I took while in Washington D.C. a few years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished reading "Flags of Our Fathers" by James Bradley with Ron Powers. This is a book that tells the story of the six men who raised the flag at Iwo Jima during a battle for the island that cost many, many lives during WWII. The Photograph that Joe Rosenthal took became the symbol of patriotism to Americans during that time and still to this day. The six flag raisers were Heros to the American public. However, to the six flag raisers themselves, what they did was not herioic, they did what any other Marine would have done, they lent a hand to help their fellow Marines. The real heros were the ones who never made it home from that island.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember visiting the memoiral on a trip I took to Washington D.C. a few years ago with my sisters. It is an astonshing statue to see. I didn't know the story behind the statue, at least not what it truly represented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand war.  I hope I never do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112104979656686082?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112104979656686082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112104979656686082&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112104979656686082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112104979656686082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/07/flags-of-our-fathers.html' title='Flags of Our Fathers'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112104840037151764</id><published>2005-07-10T21:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T21:45:18.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Atlas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8156/703/1600/5-28-05%20Atlas%20008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8156/703/320/5-28-05%20Atlas%20008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&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;This is my god son Atlas. He's now 2. I took this picture at Happy Hollow Park. Isn't he a cutie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112104840037151764?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112104840037151764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112104840037151764&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112104840037151764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112104840037151764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/07/atlas.html' title='Atlas'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-112058507090970068</id><published>2005-07-05T12:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T12:37:50.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ER</title><content type='html'>My mom scared me on Sunday.  I was driving from one friends house to another and was talking to my sister (the roommate for the summer) when my mom beeped in.  I answered and she was in a panic and having an allergic reaction to something.  She asked me to get home and take her to the doctor.  (she was home by herself and had no transporatation:  my dad was at choir rehersal and my sister had their other car) I told her I'd be right there and got back on the line with my sister and told her to get home to mom.  She was closer than I was.  I then called the friend I was on the way to meet and said that I had to change the plan because I was going to take my mom to the hospital. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm driving through Lafayette, behind the slowest drivers in the world and seemed to hit every frickn' red light there was.  I'm trying not to speed through town, because then I'd get pulled over and that would do no one any good.  I called my mom back to make sure that she was ok.  She had hives and her hands were swelled up, and she itched all over, but her breathing was ok.  I calmed down a little.  I speed down the drive way, my sister &amp; mom are coming out of the house.  We hop in the truck and head to the ER.  We were in and out of the ER in about 30 minutes.  They gave her some benidril and sent her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had an allergic reaction to Ibprophin.  She is doing fine now.  We told her that she wasn't allowed to scare us like that any more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-112058507090970068?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/112058507090970068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=112058507090970068&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112058507090970068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/112058507090970068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/07/er.html' title='ER'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111888431879269586</id><published>2005-06-15T20:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-15T20:11:58.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life at the moment....</title><content type='html'>Work:  Fine, nothing exciting really, expect that the guy that is invading my work space sleeps for about two hours everyday.  It's very annoying and distracting and pisses me off.  However, today I decided that I like it better when he sleeps because then he doesn't bug me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roommate:  Good.  She's funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love life:  none existant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;other:  I'm playing in a summer volleyball league down by the lake on Tuesday nights.  Last week kicked my ass...it was so HOT outside.  This week was better.  There's a new guy on the team who is cute and told me I had the best bump of the team.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Book reading:  "Flag of our Fathers"  It's about the 6 Marines who raised the flag at Iwo Gima in WWII.  It's hard to read.  Not because of the lanuage, but because of all the things that go along with war that is described in the book.  I'm going to need a fun one after this any suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111888431879269586?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111888431879269586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111888431879269586&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111888431879269586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111888431879269586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/06/life-at-moment.html' title='Life at the moment....'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111811015032742160</id><published>2005-06-06T20:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T21:09:10.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Tag!</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Total Volume of Music Files on my Computer:  &lt;/strong&gt;A few.  I've downloaded a few songs (the legal way) and copied some of my CD's so I can mix new ones and put songs on my MPD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Last CD I bought:  &lt;/strong&gt;It's been a long time since I've purchased a CD.  I think the last one I bought was the "Ray" sound track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Song Playing right now: &lt;/strong&gt;background music on MTV's "inferno"....my sister's watching it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five Songs I listen to a lot or mean a lot:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tripping Billies:  The Dave Matthews Band&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blue on Black:  Kenny Wayne Shepard&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down to the River to Pray:  Alison Kraus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crazy:  The Dave Matthews Band&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BANANAS:  Gwen Stephane&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;First Concert I attended:  &lt;/strong&gt;Alanis Morresette-Jagged Little Pill--Right after I graduated from High School.  It is still one of my favorite albumns!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Now I tag:  Scrap Gal, Soil Girl, and Eclectic Teacher&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111811015032742160?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111811015032742160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111811015032742160&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111811015032742160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111811015032742160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-love-tag.html' title='I love Tag!'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111705388969779967</id><published>2005-05-25T15:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T15:44:49.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Weekend</title><content type='html'>I'll be home Friday night, probably not until 9:30/10 pm.  I have to take a test for the alcohol class, then I'm on my way.  If anyone will be around and awake then, give me a call on Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111705388969779967?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111705388969779967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111705388969779967&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111705388969779967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111705388969779967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/05/memorial-weekend.html' title='Memorial Weekend'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111696788843471479</id><published>2005-05-24T15:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T15:51:28.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Class/Work/Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Water Class: I got an "A" in the pain in the ass water class. My hard work/taking vacation days to finish projects paid off. Wooo Hoooo!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Beer Class: Taking a class every night after work sucks! However, I'm over 1/2 way done. One paper, one presentation, and one test to go.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Work: I have been really pissy with work lately. Tired of busting my ass and not getting anything to show for it. I got to the point that I started talking to recruiters and doing job searches at night when I got home from work/class. Well, last Friday I had my midyear review. I went in for my mid-year review expecting to hear the same old story. "We know you're under paid, but there is nothing we can do about it. Please be patient with us." I complained (for the first time) to my boss about the person "sharing" my lab space. He gets away with sleeping and complaining everyday while I bust my ass doing the job of 3 people. And I said that I like my job, however, I'm tired of being bullshited about my lack of salary. I feel that I've gone above and beyond and prove myself over and over again. How long am I going to have to wait just to make 'market?' I told her I didn't want to be forced into a position where I started interviewing and gave them an ultimatum. I didn't want to have to threaten to quit over my salary, but that I was getting to the point where I didn't feel like I had a choice. After I ranted all that out. She said "I have good news for you...you get a raise." I about fell out of my chair. I got a 13% raise, which is great. I think this is the highest one yet. However, it's still not what I "should" be making. I told her that too. I told her where I felt was fair that I should be from the market research that I have done. She told me that she would keep fighting for me. I have to bring her the market research and together we'll work on a plan to get me to my goal. She also told me a bunch of other nice things that are very positive and made me feel good. For once in a long time I feel appreciated for doing the job that I do. Oh, and I get to go to IFT in July, which is in New Orleans!!! Which is the only reason I wanted to go!!!!!! All expenses paid!!!!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Life: not much is going on. I've been so busy lately with classes that I haven't had time for much else. I'm chatting with a guy over email. So far he seems nice and normal. Our schedules have not been able to coordinated yet, as soon as the alcohol class is over we plan to have a date. I've become more active in the Chicago Purdue Alumni Club. I went to a wine tasting with the group this past Saturday and they asked me if I wanted to be part of the suburb event planning committee. And I'm going to play Co-ed beach volleyball on Tuesday nights this summer with a group I met at the High Life things I've been trying to do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Memorial Day Weekend. I'll be home Saturday morning. Morning-spending with my god son Atlas. Late afternoon-going to LA graduation party. Night-no plans. Sunday I have my cousins grad party and then I'm going to a "slumber party" at my grandma's with my sisters. Monday-drive back to Chi-town. So, hopefully I'll get to see some/most of you on Saturday.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111696788843471479?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111696788843471479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111696788843471479&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111696788843471479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111696788843471479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/05/classworklife.html' title='Class/Work/Life'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111696675351596261</id><published>2005-05-24T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T15:32:33.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Roomate</title><content type='html'>So far so good.  Although, it's only been 2 days:)  We should be fine.  It's kinda nice to come home and have someone to talk to.  She's really nervous about her internship.  Ah, to be uncertain about a job you have to do.  She has special projects that she will have to complete throughout the summer.  I'm sure she'll be great!  This should give her some much needed confindence about what she is capable of.  I'm very proud of her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111696675351596261?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111696675351596261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111696675351596261&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111696675351596261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111696675351596261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/05/roomate.html' title='The Roomate'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111595054206621346</id><published>2005-05-12T21:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T21:15:42.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>new roomate</title><content type='html'>I'm going to have a roomate for the summer.  My youngest sister got an intership with FCO's marketing department for the summer.  Their headquarters is in Naperville so she's going to stay with me.  This summer should be interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111595054206621346?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111595054206621346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111595054206621346&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111595054206621346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111595054206621346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/05/new-roomate.html' title='new roomate'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111594987349371021</id><published>2005-05-12T21:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T21:04:33.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lafayette</title><content type='html'>I'll be in Lafayette this weekend for my sisters birthday.  I know that most of you are working, but if anyone has a free moment give me a call.  I'm driving down Friday night after work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111594987349371021?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111594987349371021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111594987349371021&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111594987349371021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111594987349371021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/05/lafayette.html' title='Lafayette'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111524371324551926</id><published>2005-05-04T16:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T16:55:13.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I "HATE" giving presentations!</title><content type='html'>I hate it.  I feel so stupid with people staring at me.  I turn all red and talk too fast.  I hate it!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have my last water class tonight and I have to give a presentation over the paper I wrote.  Thank God this class is over.  It wasn't hard, just so much work.  I spent 12 hours on Monday finishing up stuff that was due today.  It's all done and I can turn it in and relax, until I have to give my presentation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the good news is that after class I'm going home and packing for my trip to Vegas.  This mini vacation is LONG overdue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VIVA LAS VEGAS!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111524371324551926?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111524371324551926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111524371324551926&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111524371324551926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111524371324551926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-hate-giving-presentations.html' title='I &quot;HATE&quot; giving presentations!'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111454427134496967</id><published>2005-04-26T14:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T14:37:51.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I won a "free" trip</title><content type='html'>I got a call last night. It was a marketing group saying that I won a free trip for 2 to Florida and the Bahamas. I was picked as one of 10 winners for a drawing that I signed up for at a bar a couple of months ago. I remember entering for the trip. I couldn't believe that I actually won this great vacation. It's an 8 night vacation with all hotel and cruise and car rental included. So, they're explaining all these great things that I get and that I have 3 years to take the trip, etc. Then the catch....all I have to do is go to a 90 minute presentation about vacation homes &amp;amp; pay $300 per person. Which is a great deal as they explained because the value of the vacation is $2500. I asked if I had to pay the money up front, they said yes, because they needed to secure the tickets and couldn't do that without a credit card. I said I wanted to read all the fine print of what I was paying for/getting before I just gave them money. They said all that information was attached to the entry form I filled out, which I don't have, but they would go through a automated verification at the end of me giving up my credit card info.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I would love a 8 day vacation in Florida and the Bahamas. It wasn't free. I turned them down and said to pick the next person on the list. I couldn't fork over $600 w/o reading what I was going to get first. I don't have $600 just lying around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111454427134496967?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111454427134496967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111454427134496967&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111454427134496967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111454427134496967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-won-free-trip.html' title='I won a &quot;free&quot; trip'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111387094671859189</id><published>2005-04-18T19:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T19:35:46.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination</title><content type='html'>I'm taking a Grad class on water this semester and I am ready to call it quits. I am lacking some major desire and motivation at the moment. There are 3 weeks left and I have a major project due, a test, and a presentation on the project. The ruff draft for the paper portion is due on Wednesday and I have no desire to write it or turn it in. So far I have 1/2 page typed. I sat and stared at all my research over the weekend because I didn't know how to start the damn thing. I wouldn't let myself do anything else besides laundry so I was a big fat lazy ass this weekend. It makes a lot of sense not to do anything else productive and still not get my paper written. I feel like such an idiot. I know it doesn't have to be perfect, but I want to get as much done that way when the prof hands it back I'll just have to make some minor adjustments, hoping that I don't completely screw it up. So, I find myself checking my blog instead of writing a Literature review on "How water activity affects non-enzymatic browning of reaction flavors."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111387094671859189?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111387094671859189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111387094671859189&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111387094671859189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111387094671859189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/04/procrastination.html' title='Procrastination'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111327471787058173</id><published>2005-04-11T21:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-11T21:59:07.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT THE F$%&amp;?</title><content type='html'>I just got back from drinks with a guy. I know...two dates in one month....don't fall over. Anyway, I met this quy "online" chatting. He seemed okay enough to meet for drinks. So, today was the day. I meet him at a bar that I've been to a couple of times (can't be too careful). We make small talk crap, etc, etc. I'm really not all that interested in him. He has no ambition or drive to learn new things or grow intectually (not that I'm a brain, but come on something). Then there was a lull in the conversation......He asked me what I was looking for in a guy. I told him to have fun (if things happen, they happen; if they don't, they dont). He didn't say, then. He then asked me what else I like to do with a guy. I asked, "what do you mean." He said, "you know, sexually." I was a little taken a back, not normal first time conversation. Now I know what he was wanting. I told him it depended on how I was feeling and how I was feeling about the guy as to when, where, and what I would do. I also told him that I didn't do bj's. He was very taken a back by this. I explained that it's not "never" but it's definately not a habit or something that I would volunteer to do, especially with random guys. Then he asked me about the last time I gave a bj. I said that it was probably in college, in which he infered that was the last time I had sex (the two don't corrilate). So, I told him that if he was looking for a bj then I was not the girl for him. He didn't get it. I said there was more than one was to get a guy off and I prefer the non-oral method. Then he asked if I would be willing to do a non-oral method on him. I said if you're looking for action tonight, you're not going to get it.&lt;br /&gt;This is when things went down hill. Since I was not willing to make out with him in the next hour, I am now undersirable. He told me that I was not his type. So, since I was starting to get pissed off I wanted to know why I was all of a sudden not worthy. I should have just got up and left, but I wanted an insight to this idiot male syke. He said when he first saw me, I wasn't stunning or his type, but he thought enough of me to sit down and have a conversation. And during our conversation he realized that he didn't want to get to know me (although i have a good head on my shoulders but he wasn't interested in to getting to know me-just my ass!) so he brought up sex. If he had wanted to get to know me and see me again, he would never have brought up the sex conversation. Then he said that he brought up the sex conversation to see what my reaction would be and to see if he could score. Then when I said I couldn't put a number on the amount of times that I would have to see him before I'd "make out or more" with him I became a preud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he wondered why I was getting mad. I said I wasn't mad. I was PISSED OFF (which I didn't say). I had wasted an hour of my time on a guy who's whole pysolophy was that he's in his late 20's and why drag things out if there's no chemistry, but if you can get a piece of ass along the way so much the better. After all it's just sex. Why waste time getting to know someone if all it is ever going to be is just sex. To some extent I agree to not draging things out if they're not working. But good lord, sometimes it takes more than an hour to figure that out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left feeling used and ugly. I did something I swore to myself I would not let happen again....I let a guy make me feel bad about myself. However, never fear, I'm over that (well almost). This idiot of a guy, who should consider himself blessed for having been in my presence, is not worth my energy. So, I stopped to get gas and let it go. I told myself that this guy is a jerk and he was a jerk because I turned him down. I have toys that are worth more of my time and attention and are probably better in bed than he could ever wet dream to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111327471787058173?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111327471787058173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111327471787058173&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111327471787058173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111327471787058173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/04/what-f.html' title='WHAT THE F$%&amp;?'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111216105973884869</id><published>2005-03-29T23:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-29T23:37:39.740-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Date</title><content type='html'>Last Tuesday I had a date with the guy I met on St. Patty's Day.  I had laughed a lot and have to say it was a good time.  It's nice to know that I am not doomed to always have bad dates.  However, not to be picky, but the following things bugged me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;His vocabulary consisted mainly of curse words.  When one has to use at least one swear word per sentence there is a problem.  I swear so swearing a little is no problem, but when that is what makes up most of your vocabulary.....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He had 7 beers in the span of 3 hours.  Now, I don't mind someone drinking, because I drink.  However, there is a time and a place to have 7 beers.  Like when you don't have to drive.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He has bad teeth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He doesn't eat fruit or vegetables.  How boring. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He kind of looks like an E-wok (from Star Wars)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, I don't know if another date is in the future.  We shall see.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111216105973884869?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111216105973884869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111216105973884869&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111216105973884869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111216105973884869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/03/date.html' title='Date'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111145801109357491</id><published>2005-03-21T20:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-21T20:20:11.093-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/14/4248/640/02-18-05_2331[1].jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/14/4248/320/02-18-05_2331[1].jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends from work.  Our monthly drinking night at Champs.  This was for BK's going away party.  BK is bald guy on the left.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111145801109357491?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111145801109357491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111145801109357491&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111145801109357491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111145801109357491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/03/my-friends-from-work.html' title=''/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111118070480169510</id><published>2005-03-18T15:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T15:18:24.803-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hope</title><content type='html'>Maybe there is hope for me yet. I went out last night for St. Patrick Day. Nothing too exciting. It was with the Adventure Group. It was at an Irish Pub with live music and dancing. Usually at the Adventure things, especially the ones at a bar. I get to the event, have a drink, mingle and about an hour or so later I'm ready to go home. Well last night was a different story. I got there meet some nice people had a drink. We all found a table and I started talking to the guy sitting across from me. 3 hours later we're still talking. He was funny and nice and cute. I had a great time. So much so that I gave him my phone # and email. Now, I don't think I've ever given a guy my number with out him asking for it. Or if I've even been asked for my phone number at a bar. Anyway, I liked him. So, while standing at the bar and talking I pulled out my business cards and a pin and wrote my info on the back. I didn't give it to him then but I knew he saw what I was doing. Then when we left he walked me to my car (he said it was because it was a ruff area...It wasn't) and I gave it to him. I told him I had a great time and that if he wanted to call or email me that would be good. Then I drove him to his car (it was cold out) and we said our goodnights. I didn't expect to hear from him at least not for a while. Well, he just sent me an email to say hi and asked if I wanted to get together next week. Imagine that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111118070480169510?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111118070480169510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111118070480169510&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111118070480169510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111118070480169510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/03/hope.html' title='Hope'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-111116422662452018</id><published>2005-03-18T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T10:43:46.626-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mail</title><content type='html'>I love getting mail. It just brittens up my day, especially when it's not expected. However the package I received this week was expected and very much anticipated. I was so excited when I got home from class on Wednesday night to see that the FEDex man had paid me a visit. The only problem was that since I was not at home it got delivered to the office. I couldn't go get it because the office closes at 9 pm and it was 10. I'd waited that long I could wait one more day to pick it up. So, Thursday (yesterday) I hadn't thought about my package until I was driving home from work. I was so excited by the time I got home I could hardly wait to go, pick it up, take it to my apartment, and play with it. Let me tell you, I am one very satisfied woman and I will never again go that long with out a package to play with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-111116422662452018?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/111116422662452018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=111116422662452018&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111116422662452018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/111116422662452018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/03/mail.html' title='Mail'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110980637224486050</id><published>2005-03-02T17:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T17:32:52.246-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay....1.....I like 1</title><content type='html'>Okay...okay...I didn't exactly tell the whole truth in my last post. I do have a lot of guy friends. However, there is one that I'm attracted to. It drove me nuts for a very long time and I thought I was misreading his signals, or reading to much into them because I LIKE him. Low and behold I wasn't. There was a lot of sexual tension for a while and then we had a talk. It's good to know that I am not crazy and that I can read signals. However, it's not good because I cannot act on my feelings due to circumstances beyond my control. Things are much better now, I don't feel like jumping him every time I see him (every so often, but not too much) and we can be friends.  Which is great.  Not great that I can't have wild passionate s**, but great because I can talk to him with out all the weirdness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this is why I'm not dating...somewhere in the back of my head maybe.....but no it's really not why I'm not dating.  I'm not dating because I can't seem to meet a guy who doesn't just see me as a friend or who isn't already married or too much into himself.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As people like to tell me....One day, you'll meet him, the great guy.....Yeah, when I'm 80.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110980637224486050?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110980637224486050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110980637224486050&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110980637224486050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110980637224486050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/03/okay1i-like-1.html' title='Okay....1.....I like 1'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110977816954686284</id><published>2005-03-02T09:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T09:42:49.550-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys and Girls CAN be friends</title><content type='html'>I am annoyed. I work with a group of about 20 people and some feel the need to spread rumors about others. Which is stupid, petty, and annoying. Especially that the rumors that they feel the need to spread have no truth to them at all. Maybe jealously is in action. Anyway, one of my friends KL is happily married. She's working towards a culinary degree to add to her fine Food Science degree from PU. The days that she has cooking classes she does not wear her wedding ring because she can't wear it in class. So, she leaves it at home so she won't have to worry about it. Also, they sawdered her bands together and she's been having trouble putting it on in the morning. So, if she can't get it on then she leaves it at home so she doesn't have to worry about it. Well some in the office have picked up on the fact that she doesn't have her ring glued on her finger at all times. Some even asked her if things were okay at home and she explained to them the above. Then there's KD, he's divorced w/ 2 kids, but in a happy relationship with a very nice woman. Anyway, KL and KD talk at work, they have their coffee break together, and are usually at lunch at the same time (as with about 5 other people, including me). So, someone has decided to start a rumor that KD broke up with his girlfriend and him and KL are the middle of an affair. Which is utterly ridiculous (especially if you knew KD, he's a nice guy, but him and KL would never get along in a "relationship").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to wonder why people think that guys and girls can't be friends??? I have a lot of guy friends, none of which I want to start an affair with or have any romantic feelings for what so ever. I value my guy friends because I can get a guys opinion about things and if I were ever in trouble or needed someone's a** kicked they'd have my back. Just because you talk to a guy a work does not mean that you're romantically involved with him or that you even like him. Why are people such idiots? Really, why?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110977816954686284?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110977816954686284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110977816954686284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110977816954686284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110977816954686284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/03/guys-and-girls-can-be-friends.html' title='Guys and Girls CAN be friends'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110875772650787745</id><published>2005-02-18T14:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-18T14:15:26.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Volleyball</title><content type='html'>I played volleyball last night as a sub for a rec league in the city with people I've meet through the "adventure" group. I played volleyball in High School, and eventually got cut because I'm too short. I play now and again when I get the chance. I'm pleased to say that I'm not that bad even though I don't play much. I can still serve over head and bump with the best of them. I am however one big walking bruise. I don't remember being so sensitive. The insides of both of my arms (from my wrists to my elbow) are all purple and red. They look awful and are very sore. How can bumping around a volleyball cause so much trauma? I must be getting old. I'm afraid if I play again I'll just turn purple permanently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110875772650787745?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110875772650787745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110875772650787745&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110875772650787745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110875772650787745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/02/volleyball.html' title='Volleyball'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110868112544197789</id><published>2005-02-17T16:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-17T16:58:45.443-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lousy</title><content type='html'>I have had a lousy week.  Not for any partucular reason.  It's just been lousy.  I'm sad.  I want to cry at various parts of my day.  I don't want to do anything except curl up on my couch under a nice warm blanket.  I don't want to clean my apartment....and it needs it.  I have laundry (at least it's clean) pilled up on the floor in my living room.  It's folded and in piles I just can't seem to put it away.  I have various projects that I need to start and just don't have the energy or desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't write this so you think "poor Flavor."  I just needed to get it out of my head.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110868112544197789?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110868112544197789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110868112544197789&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110868112544197789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110868112544197789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/02/lousy.html' title='Lousy'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110796408518108959</id><published>2005-02-09T08:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-09T09:48:05.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>MY BIRTHDAY</title><content type='html'>Thank you to all who played a part in making my birthday one of the greatest I've ever had. You're all fabulous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110796408518108959?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110796408518108959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110796408518108959&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110796408518108959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110796408518108959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/02/my-birthday.html' title='MY BIRTHDAY'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110796069262359091</id><published>2005-02-09T08:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-09T08:51:32.623-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crappy Day and it's only 8:30 am</title><content type='html'>I get to work today to find out one of my good friends has been fired. (Not from my company but one of the other ones). One of the ladies I work with had to call an ambulance at 12 am because her son couldn't breath. He's got asma (sp) and now has to be on steroids so he can breath (very scary). And to top everything off my favorite work person has an interview on Friday with a competitor company and could end up leaving. (it's just a 1st interview and I shouldn't be so upset about it). What a good way to start the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110796069262359091?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110796069262359091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110796069262359091&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110796069262359091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110796069262359091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/02/crappy-day-and-its-only-830-am.html' title='Crappy Day and it&apos;s only 8:30 am'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110746390208217724</id><published>2005-02-03T14:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T14:51:42.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Invasion of space</title><content type='html'>My lab has been intruded upon. I now have to share my space. I'm not very happy about it either. This guy has been on medical leave for a long time now and they have to give him something to do (it's against the law to fire him). Anyway, they only free space left in the building is in my lab and I get stuck sharing. Now, I know I sound petty and unreasonable, but I have had my own space for 4 1/2 years. I don't want to share. I like having no one bother me during the day. I like being able to venture out to the rest of the building when I need someone to talk to, on my own terms. At least for now he's only working 1/2 days and his responsibilities have nothing to do with me or my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110746390208217724?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110746390208217724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110746390208217724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110746390208217724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110746390208217724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/02/invasion-of-space.html' title='Invasion of space'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110746358886765103</id><published>2005-02-03T14:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T14:46:28.866-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's my party!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>It's a quarter til' 3 pm on Thursday afternoon and I don't want to work anymore.  My weekend starts when I get off work today....it's my birthday.  I know people who dread their birthday.  I'm not one of them.  I like to celebrate that I've made it through another year alive and kickin'.  I might feel different in a couple of years, but for now, let's party!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110746358886765103?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110746358886765103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110746358886765103&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110746358886765103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110746358886765103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/02/its-my-party.html' title='It&apos;s my party!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110634005033347197</id><published>2005-01-21T14:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-21T14:40:50.343-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekly Update</title><content type='html'>I have to do a report once a week, usually on Fridays, that details the things I've accomplished or worked on during that week.  It's tedious and a pain in the rump.  Why does everything come down to numbers?  The number of samples I ran.  The number of ingredient statements I reviewed for correctness.  The number of times I swore at my GC-MS.  I number of times I swore at myself for over concentrating a sample that took over 4 hours to prep ( I really hate it when I do that because I have to start all over).  Numbers....Numbers.....Numbers........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also annoyed at fellow co-workers who half-ass their work.  All they are doing is adding extra work for someone else (me) and themselves because they have to go back and fix it.  I used to hate it when my mom said "if you did it right the first time, I wouldn't have you do it again."  Now I find myself wishing I could say it to some of my fellow co-workers.  The lazy &amp;*^%$&amp;amp;(*!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my first class on Wednesday.  The class is all about water and it's relationship to food.  Very exciting stuff.  The first class wasn't bad.  The prof has a good sence of humor and knows how to explain things.  Especially chemistry that I forgot about 4 years ago.  If I had, had an organic prof like her I probably would have understood what I was doing and not hated it.  Oh well, I guess it's better to get a good prof for grad school anyway.  It's 6-10 pm once a week.  Although she said we'd only go for a little over 3 and not 4.  Thank goodness, my brain can barley last 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to go to an Adventure outing (drinking event) tonight in the city, but with the imminate arival of snow, I decided to cancel, go rent some movies and have a date with my couch instead.  Plus I won't have to worry about driving and I can finish the bottle of wine I opened earlier this week.  I am going to go on a sleigh ride on Sunday afternoon with the Adventure group, so I'm still doing something social this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a wonderful weekend!  Love to all.  I still don't have my cable internet hooked up in my new apt.  They told me two weeks, it's been 4.  I should call my apt. office and find out what the heck is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110634005033347197?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110634005033347197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110634005033347197&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110634005033347197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110634005033347197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/01/weekly-update.html' title='Weekly Update'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110572972144321064</id><published>2005-01-14T13:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T13:08:41.443-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wine Tasting</title><content type='html'>Last night I went to a Wine Tasting put on by my new apartment complex.  I tasted a couple of good wines, however I did not buy any because I had to buy a case.  The case could only be one kind, no mix and match.  I thought it would be good to venture out and meet some of my neighbors (and maybe a cute single guy too).  No such luck with the single guy, every guy I saw there was part of a couple.  I hope they do more events in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110572972144321064?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110572972144321064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110572972144321064&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110572972144321064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110572972144321064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/01/wine-tasting.html' title='Wine Tasting'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110572041898266783</id><published>2005-01-14T10:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T10:33:38.983-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Power Outage</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was interesting.  I got to work at 7:45 am and the power was out.  Which is not a good way to start a work day.  I walk into my lab and the vacuum pump for my GC-MS is making a terrible noise and is hot.  Which means that the power is not completely off and some things are trying to work.  I didn't want my pump to explode so I made sure that all my GC-MS equipment was off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were suppposed to have a training on PMP's.  "PIMP" training for those of us who think we're funny.  Anyway, PMP is GL's new evaluation program.  We had to be trained on how it works and what we're supposed to do.  It's hard to have a powerpoint presentation with no power.  So, they were calling around to all the local hotels to see if we could book a conference room for the morning.  So, much for getting the day off.  So, we all head to the Oak Brook Hyatt for our meeting.  We learn about the joys and greatness of the new PMP system and all the wonderful things we can do.  They have it set up online so we can keep better track of everything.  In this PIMP system I have to come up with 4 measurable goals that will help support the company &amp;/or my managers 4 measurable goals.  They most wonderful thing about it is that I don't do anything that is measurable or that directly affects the companys goals.  This is going to be great!  My next raise is going to be based on this *&amp;^%R&amp;amp;^*%$.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get done with PIMP training and they have lunch for use at a Pizza place down the street...we still don't get to go home.  We all have lunch, one happy little company.  After lunch we all head back to the office because we thought that the power was back on.  We get back and the power is out again.  Now at 1:30pm we get to go home, which is fine with me, I go shopping at Target.  I got some really cute stuff for my apartment.  I decorated the top of the cabnets on one side of my kitchen.  I started hanging pictures up.  It's all starting to come together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I get to work this moring and the power is back on....YEAH!!!  The only thing I'm worried about is my $250,000 piece of equipment, which is the main focus of my job.  Usually when the power goes out the computer that controls my GC-MS will reboot itself and all I have to do is log in.  I never turn it off.  Well, it didn't reboot itself.  I reset it, I turned it off and then on again, I unplugged it and plugged it back in.  I unhooked the cables and hooked them back up....NOTHING.  I believe my computer is dead.  Without that computer I cannot run my GC-MS.  The data files on the hard drive I'm not worried about because I don't need them (or haven't needed them) after I run the sample.  The thing that I'm most worried about is losing the database of chemicals that I spent a year adding onto the system.  I've tried a couple of times to back it up.  They even got me a zip drive, but it wouldn't load onto the computer because it's old.  I didn't want to upgrade the computer for fear of messing up the GC-MS programs that are on them.  And the files I need to back up a way tooo big to fit on a floppy.  So, at the moment I'm waiting for the IT people to call me back to see what can be done.  I don't even think it's a GL computer.  I think it came as part of the GC-MS equipment.  &amp;*%&amp;amp;%$%$#*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110572041898266783?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110572041898266783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110572041898266783&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110572041898266783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110572041898266783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/01/power-outage.html' title='Power Outage'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110486277636867782</id><published>2005-01-04T12:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T12:19:36.366-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moved</title><content type='html'>I'm all moved.  All my stuff is in my new place, most of it in boxes.  I am finally rid of the evil one at the RMH.  I'm still all out of sorts about the whole thing.  I'm estatic one minute that I have all this new found free time.  Next I'm sad because I'll miss the families and my newest roomate.  Then I'm mad because I had to leave the way that I did.  Then I'm happy again because I have my own place again (where I can walk around naked if I feel the urge).  I know it's a good thing.  It just feels so weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110486277636867782?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110486277636867782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110486277636867782&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110486277636867782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110486277636867782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2005/01/moved.html' title='Moved'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110426557953084702</id><published>2004-12-28T14:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-28T14:27:07.933-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BONUS</title><content type='html'>I got a bonus at work (day job). A real actual year end bonus. We all got Christmas money and an extra $100 because the company did well. This is extra. They pick one person in the company who has gone above and beyond. My boss nominated me and I got it. $1000 (minus taxes and $48 to a saving account).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This still does not make up for the lack of salary that I should be gettting. My boss even said that when she told me. This isn't the solution, but hopefully that I'll see that she is trying to do things so that I know they are doing something and that I know that I am appreciated for all the work that I do here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a nice treat for moving to my own place. Speaking of I have two more days to work at the "fun house." Then I'm getting drunk on New Year's Eve, recovering on New Year's Day and moving Jan. 2nd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110426557953084702?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110426557953084702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110426557953084702&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110426557953084702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110426557953084702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2004/12/bonus.html' title='BONUS'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110357122929445301</id><published>2004-12-20T13:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T13:33:49.296-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation Time</title><content type='html'>We're having our work Christmas grab bag thing in 1/2 an hour and I can't think of anything work wise to do, so I thought I'd post a blog. I spent this past weekend packing and baking. I made mini blueberry pies for Christmas presents for work. They were a HUGE hit. It was a lot of work, but I need one last big baking day to say fair well to my kitchen at the RMH. I won't have a kitchen that big again until I get to build my own. I also had an adventure event. I went to the "Dysfunctional Holiday Revue" performed by Second City. It was a series of comedy skits about different holiday issues. It was quite funny. Again I did not meet anyone fabulous, much to the disappointment of my roommate. She thinks that I have been to enough events to have meet someone fabulous to go out on dates with. What's a single girl to do??? Maybe I'm going to the wrong events?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm headed to Lafayette tomorrow. I'll be in town through Sunday. I was wondering if anyone in the area will be around Thursday night for super? If you will be on your way to family for Christmas, that's cool, but if your going to be in town I'd love to see you for a couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't see you. Merry Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110357122929445301?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110357122929445301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110357122929445301&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110357122929445301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110357122929445301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2004/12/vacation-time.html' title='Vacation Time'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110332270628714147</id><published>2004-12-17T16:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-17T16:31:46.286-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF</title><content type='html'>I am counting down the minutes until I leave work (there are 5 to go).  I have been very unproductive this afternoon, not for wasting time online, but sheer lack of motivation to accomplish anything.  I am headed out into the dreaded Christmas shopping world tonight to get my shopping done.  Good thing I only have 5 people to shop for.  I'm not dreading the shopping, but all the stupid people who will be out shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an adventure on Tuesday.  I went to a bartending class.  FYI, don't go to a bartending class if you've ever been a bartender.  It's not very exciting.  I meet some nice people though, no one I wanted to talk with hours on end, but hey, at least I'm attempting to be social.  I have two adventures this weekend.  I'm going to see a "Holiday Review."  I don't know what it's about or if it's stand-up or what.  I guess that's the adventure part.  I'm also going to go Christmas Caroling on Sunday night.  I'm actually really excited about that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also need to make Christmas treats for work.  I'm going to make everyone a miniture verson of my "Famous Blueberry Pie" and a mini-rum cake.  I guess no sleep for me this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my, I've passed my 5 minutes left I work.  I'm on overtime....gotta go:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110332270628714147?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110332270628714147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110332270628714147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110332270628714147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110332270628714147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2004/12/tgif.html' title='TGIF'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110321847682706803</id><published>2004-12-16T11:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-16T11:34:36.826-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wasting Time</title><content type='html'>I find myself mezmorized by this blog thing. I spent most of my afternoon yesterday reading SG, RAR, and Teacher's blogs. I find myself checking back to see what, if anything has been added in the last hour. This is almost as bad as instant messaging (which they took off my work computer) in the amount of time I spend on it. I love it! I glad I can type something once and you can all see it and I don't have to repeat myself 4 times. I guess I do that already with mass emails, but this is way more fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have 3 more working nights at the RMH (RHM for Scrap). Thank GOD!!!!!! I in the final approval stage for the apartment that I like. Everything should go just fine. Now I just have to pack!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110321847682706803?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110321847682706803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110321847682706803&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110321847682706803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110321847682706803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2004/12/wasting-time.html' title='Wasting Time'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110295467240595808</id><published>2004-12-13T10:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T10:17:52.406-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm really an analytical chemist</title><content type='html'>Becky, you almost had my job title right.  I'm really an analytical chemist who works for a flavor company.  The difference between being the flavor chemist and analytical chemist is that the flavor chemist makes the flavors and the analytical chemist tests them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110295467240595808?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110295467240595808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110295467240595808&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110295467240595808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110295467240595808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2004/12/im-really-analytical-chemist.html' title='I&apos;m really an analytical chemist'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9581461.post-110288269306365605</id><published>2004-12-12T15:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-12-12T14:20:50.793-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome!</title><content type='html'>This is my first blog entry as Flavor Girl. Come back soon to read more about my life as both a flavor chemist and a regular good ole girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9581461-110288269306365605?l=flavorgirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/feeds/110288269306365605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9581461&amp;postID=110288269306365605&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110288269306365605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9581461/posts/default/110288269306365605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flavorgirl.blogspot.com/2004/12/welcome.html' title='Welcome!'/><author><name>Flavor Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17121187319990045420</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
