tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82410842080409566502024-03-05T14:43:07.350-05:00My Name is TaylorTaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-34750606032626810452009-09-13T23:39:00.002-04:002009-09-13T23:41:34.677-04:00Hello, Taylor<div align="center">So...have you checked out my new blog yet? </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">(just wondering...)</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://hellotaylor.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-size:180%;">http://hellotaylor.wordpress.com</span></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">xoxo!</div>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-3008693272767523202009-09-01T14:22:00.002-04:002009-09-01T14:23:20.870-04:00I'VE MOVED TO WORDPRESSHi guys!<br /><br />I'm here to remind everybody that I'm no longer blogging here. I'm over at ...<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://hellotaylor.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-size:180%;">http://hellotaylor.wordpress.com</span></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Seriously. Check that shit out. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">It's badass. </div>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-39461461697316628512009-08-29T04:04:00.006-04:002009-08-29T04:46:07.588-04:00MOVING TO WORDPRESSThis is a very important post if you're a reader of My Name is Taylor. Why, you ask?<br /><br />Because...<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;">I will no longer be blogging at this address. </span></em></strong><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;">You can visit me at ...<br /><br /></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"><a href="http://hellotaylor.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-size:100%;">http://hellotaylor.wordpress.com/</span></a> </span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />Do it. </span></em></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><br />(pwease?)</span></em></div>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-44195561154017807932009-08-28T09:54:00.004-04:002009-08-28T10:11:14.366-04:00Summer Goals, RevisitedRemember once upon a time when I decided to <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/06/hold-me-accountable-please.html">make summer goals for myself</a>? Yeah... Let's revisit those goals and see how I've done. After all, I go back to the university in 2 days. Summer's just about over for me. *sigh*<br /><br /><em>1) Stop obsessing over have-beens (CN)</em><br />-Success! Not only did I stop obsessing over CN, but <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/08/ill-always-love-him.html">we reconnected </a>and finally talked about our past. I've even stopped stalking him! Kinda. Old habits die hard, you know?<br /><br /><em>2) Bike the entire bike trail (48 miles)</em><br />-Fail. DB and I biked half and then turned around. 24 miles is better than nothing, right? I still want to complete this goal.<br /><br /><em>3) Reconnect with some old friends</em><br />-Success! Two words. The Cheffess. We're closer than we ever were in the past. I've had the greatest and craziest summer of my life and I completely owe it to her. We're two of a kind and I absolutely LOVE HER!<br /><br /><em>4) Go on a photo-taking excursion</em><br />-Fail. Does <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/08/it-was-mostly-good.html">the UP trip </a>count? I don't think so.<br /><br /><em>5) Play the guitar and piano more often</em><br />-Fail. The biggest fail, actually. I haven't played the guitar in a month and my keyboard is collecting dust in the corner of my room. This makes me so sad, music used to be my life. I'm a musician at heart and need to reconnect with the greatest love of my life.<br /><br /><em>6) Develop a regular exercise schedule</em><br />-Fail. Good one, Taylor. I haven't exercised since February. You think I'm joking.<br /><br /><em>7) Have sex in the woods</em><br />-Fail. Trust me, we tried. <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-ramble-on-mondays-on-tuesday.html">Here</a> and <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/07/fragmenty-friday.html">here</a>. And then we tried again (but I didn't blog about it). It's hard to find a comfortable spot in the forest to fuck. Mosquitoes? Hikers? Yeah.<br /><br /><em>8) Go skinny-dipping</em><br />-Fail. I completely forgot about this<br /><br /><em>9) Have a picnic on the beach</em><br />-Fail. And there's a sad story behind this one. In July, The Dealer invited me to a party. DB and I had plans but I ditched him to go drink/smoke the night away. I found out a week later that DB had planned a picnic-on-the-beach-while-watching-the-sunset for me. He had the food and blankets and everything in the trunk of his car already. Plus? He was bringing his acoustic guitar so he could play a song he had written for me. And I fucking ditched on him. I hate myself. I cried in a public restaurant when I found out.<br /><br />So there you have it. I should never make summer goals again.<br /><br />Thanks to everybody that commented yesterday, it meant so much to me. Your advice helped more than you could imagine and I'll be sure to keep you updated. I love you guys!!Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-47333042781839642382009-08-27T00:05:00.004-04:002009-08-27T00:11:26.602-04:00Sometimes I Truly Hate MyselfI'm pretty sure DB and I are breaking up.<br /><br />I don't know how I feel about it.<br /><em><br /></em><em></em>I'm heartbroken. But I'm unhappy here with him.<br /><br />He's perfect. But he's too goddamn perfect for me.<br /><br />I keep having to ask myself whether or not I love him.<br /><br /><div align="center"><em>If I truly loved him, that wouldn't happen ... right?<br /><br /></em></div><div align="center"><em></em></div><div align="center"><em></em></div><div align="left">I want to be his best friend.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">But not his girlfriend?</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />I'm too stressed and scared and shaking to write a real post.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I'm sorry. </div>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-9107907992128473932009-08-26T02:04:00.001-04:002009-08-26T02:09:23.763-04:00Wordless Wednesday: Dollar Bird Edition<div align="center"><a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/category/wordless-wednesday/"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2O7eSWjdufo5iic_sxAEAmlRRAk4n29M8DZ3MjNvqIcmbMCcHZmLeY_GfcUJsQfAspc_uAZy7mgEsJv11wF5IMw50W7JAuZhgUZZn0fjjfauSV8VRjb5Sr6gf-pLLz4n1la4DxYvsKFSS/s187/Wordless+Wednesday+Button.jpg" border="0" /></a><em> (click that button to see more WW posts over at 5 Minutes for Mom)</em><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTajfEsEvaev2YAH5c07kvvgA9pNbhdsSQIIbmo4ShauGdM-PqKqm8ttAwiHTtF4W4ylwR-iFQ548WJhS9HfznW9gZsz78nj9LAXSQJY-aVB9t2uQy_c4iWgi-BEnYw7jwSltmSZN-5c/s1600-h/dfnt+i+know.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374150131840575106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTajfEsEvaev2YAH5c07kvvgA9pNbhdsSQIIbmo4ShauGdM-PqKqm8ttAwiHTtF4W4ylwR-iFQ548WJhS9HfznW9gZsz78nj9LAXSQJY-aVB9t2uQy_c4iWgi-BEnYw7jwSltmSZN-5c/s400/dfnt+i+know.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5csWYzNBNuKCYbkYHzcyZWCe-1q2k6cX8X7ymqs_D72auExn_kPnurNfBU5wZAErxMu5jAlQ7ZTEvYBLbKMKa_hYZK_IP523VAPGVbLVEpY6fvvV7KuIlcRstd9KaYpipxdkTNm01eE4/s1600-h/dfnt+again+i+know.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374150125763554898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5csWYzNBNuKCYbkYHzcyZWCe-1q2k6cX8X7ymqs_D72auExn_kPnurNfBU5wZAErxMu5jAlQ7ZTEvYBLbKMKa_hYZK_IP523VAPGVbLVEpY6fvvV7KuIlcRstd9KaYpipxdkTNm01eE4/s400/dfnt+again+i+know.jpg" border="0" /></a> Somebody tipped me a dollar-bird at Job #1. Fucking fantastic. </div></div>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-27271181167481440992009-08-25T01:57:00.003-04:002009-08-25T02:33:19.334-04:00I'll Always Love Him<div align="left">After I posted yesterday, <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/06/who-is-this-christian-guy-anyways.html">CN</a> and I texted for <strong>5 and a half hours</strong>. And the time flew by. It felt like we were talking for <em>maybe</em> an hour. We never ran out of things to say.<br /><br />This was the first real conversation I've had with him in years. Words can't even describe how thankful I am that we finally reconnected.<br /><br />He broke up with his girlfriend recently. We talked about that. I've been having doubts about DB. We talked about that. We compared relationships. We realized how alike we are. We also discussed our differences. He lectured me about my bad habits (drinking... smoking...). We talked about work. We talked about love. We talked about jealousy. We talked about the past. We talked about us.<br /><br />We finally, finally, <em>finally</em> talked about us.<br /><br />He asked me whether or not I liked him back then; back when he used to come over everyday. I answered truthfully, yes. He confessed that he had loved me too, but was too nervous and self-conscious to ask me out.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> You should have. I really liked you.<br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">CN:</span></strong> It's weird how the more you like someone the harder it is to just make a move. The same thing happened to me in middle school.<br /><br />So I asked him about middle school.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> I have another question for you. Remember how we dated in middle school? Did you even like me back then? Because I never thought you did.<br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">CN:</span></strong> That's funny because I felt like you were my one and only true love and that's probably why you thought that. Because I was so incredibly nervous around you.<br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">CN:</span></strong> I almost asked you about middle school earlier but I didn't because I thought you'd think I was weird.<br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> I almost didn't ask you because I wasn't sure if you'd remember that we dated.<br /><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">CN:</span></strong> Lol. You were my biggest crush in middle school.<br /><br />I can't believe it. After all these years of wondering. After all these years of loving him.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"><strong><em><center>He's always felt exactly the same about me.</center><br /></div></em></strong><div align="left">I'll always love him. As a friend. Maybe someday we can be more, but not today. Maybe someday when I've stopped drinking every night, when I've gotten tired of being high, when I've finally found God, then we can be together. But until then...<br /><br /><center>I am content. Finally. </center></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">CN:</span></strong> We'll probably run into each other in 10 years and get married like some lame romantic movie or a country song. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Haha. We'll have to wait and see. </div>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-68662345320829463132009-08-24T00:12:00.010-04:002009-08-24T00:33:57.752-04:00The Most Awesome Weekend in the History of Weekends. Seriously.I've had the most fantastic weekend!! Seriously.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#009900;">Friday?</span></strong><br /><br />I got together with MY GIRL The Cheffess to smoke. Lipring, Redhead, The Drunk, and another nameless character were there. I found out that Lipring cheated on his super-nice girlfriend. I don't like him nearly as much as I did...<br /><br />But the night was fantastic to say the least.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Saturday? </span></strong><br /><br />Was even more fucking fantastic! The Cheffess and I went to a party. Highlights?<br /><ul><li>Aaron telling me to call him anytime I'm single</li><li>Aaron (drunk) announcing to everybody that I'm "absolutely gorgeous and SO cute"</li><li>The Dealer's girlfriend inviting me to smoke alone with her and the Dealer. Seriously, what a fucking sweetheart!</li><li>Even though the Cheffess left at midnight, I stayed out 'til 3. </li><li>Guitarguy playing a song for me </li><li>Guitarguy teaching me a song on the guitar</li><li>Hugs goodbye from Aaron and Guitarguy</li><li>Guitarguy in general</li><li>Seriously. Guitar-fucking-guy </li><li>Beer pong with Aaron (yeah... we lost)</li><li>Smoking with my sister's preppy ex-boyfriend and then telling her about it</li></ul><p><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">Sunday?</span></strong> </p><p>CN texted me. He broke up with his girlfriend and wanted to know if I was single. No, I'm not, but we still texted all day. I still waited anxiously for every reply. I still opted out of going out with DB to stay at home and text him. I still confessed my unhappiness with my current relationship. And then he visited me at work...</p><p>I still believe I may or may not love him. </p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Song of the Day: <a href="http://www.playlist.com/playlist/16838041867">The Flood by Escape The Fate<br /></a></span><span style="color:#009900;">What did you do this weekend?</span></strong></p>Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16105020491068599594noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-62871478865753017902009-08-21T00:53:00.003-04:002009-08-21T00:54:59.842-04:00Why Yes, I am a Scaredy Cat!<div align="left">Lately? I've realized that I'm scared of... pretty much everything.<br /><br />Some examples? I'm afraid of being mauled by a bear. Not only when I'm <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/08/it-was-mostly-good.html">hiking through the wilderness of the UP</a>, but when I'm walking down my street. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 406px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://local-static3.forum-files.fobby.net/forum_attachments/0012/1458/Polar_Bear_Attack_at_Zoo_large.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">That's some scary shit.</span></em><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><br /></p><p>I'm afraid of being blown off bridges when it's windy. Especially when I'm driving and my car gets all swerve-y because the wind is blowing THAT hard. And there's no way in hell I walk across bridges when it's windy. Duh. </p><p>I'm afraid of hitting a deer when I'm driving. I clench the wheel and frantically try to look FUCKING EVERYWHERE for deer whenever I pass a forest or a field or a farm or... you know... anywhere. </p><p>I'm afraid of DB's <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-dogs-do-not-turn-me-on.html">14-year-old dog</a>. I avoided his house for so long, his parents really thought I hated them. When I finally started visiting again, I only entered/exited through the basement, where his killer attack dog never ventures. </p><p>I'm extremely afraid of knives. Even butter knives and plastic knives. Point anything resembling a knife at me and I'll RUN to the other side of the room. Literally. DB thinks it's hilarious and loves to tease me with butter knives. </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 353px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.mirror.co.uk/upl/dailyrecord3/jun2009/1/2/x-ray-article-752578358.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">See? There's a fucking butter knife in his head. </span></em></p><p align="left">I'm afraid of BIG ants. Not the little guys or the medium-sized buggers, but the huge fuckers with the fat bodies. They give me the heebie-jeebies <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-feels-like-ramblin-monday.html">almost as much as centipedes do</a>. </p><p align="left">Enough explanations. I'm afraid of bad weather. I'm afraid of driving in the snow. I'm afraid of losing my hearing. I'm afraid of birds pecking my eyes out. I'm afraid of being attacked by killer machines from outer space. I'm afraid of being stalked. I'm afraid of getting cancer from the microwave. I'm afraid of ferrets. I'm afraid of being home alone. I'm afraid of death. I'm afraid of getting cancer from my cell phone. I'm afraid of aliens. I'm afraid of public speaking. I'm afraid of rejection. I'm afraid of killer diseases. Oh, and I'm TERRIFIED of brittle stars. </p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 340px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://wildinbritain.co.uk/LifeontheEdge/Brittlestar.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">OH GOD!!!! EW!!!!</span> </em><br /></p><p align="left"><em>*Ahem*</em> In other news...</p><p align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Song of the Day: <a href="http://www.playlist.com/playlist/16838041867">Carry You Home by James Blunt</a></span></strong><a href="http://www.playlist.com/playlist/16838041867"> </a><br /><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">What are you afraid of???</span></strong> </p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>p.s. Have a beautiful weekend!</em></span></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-43670919999753033952009-08-20T00:17:00.005-04:002009-08-20T00:32:40.030-04:00TMI Thursday: I'm Still A Lady<center><a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img alt="TMI Thursday" src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><i>It's TMI Thursday, bitches!! Hosted by the lovely <a href="http://livitluvit.com/">LiLu</a>, as always.</i><br /><br /></center><div align="left">As many of you know, DB and I have been dating for quite a while. I'm extremely comfortable around him and he's just as relaxed around me. However, there is one thing I refuse to do in front of him. <br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Fart.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I don't fart in front of anybody, not even my family. Especially not in front of DB. I think it's disgusting. Which is actually quite annoying, because I'm a gassy person. Nice, huh? DB calls me out on it all the time. <br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> My tummy hurts. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> Do you have to fart? </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> What? No! I'm a lady and ladies don't fart. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> Bullshit. <br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">So. Now that you know that particularly interesting tidbit about me...<br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">A few weeks ago DB and I were lying in bed, snuggling, after eating a big meal. Everything was perfect and snuggly until my stomach started acting up. I could feel the fart forming in the pit of my abdomen and panicked. I clenched my butt cheeks as hard as I possibly could! There was no way in HELL I was farting on DB while we were spooning. <br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">It took a lot of fucking effort to keep that fart in, and apparently it began to show. <br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> Woah, baby, your pulse is getting faster. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Oh <em>*clenching with enormous force*</em> Haha<br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">DB didn't know what was going on and assumed my heartbeat was faster because I wanted to get sexy with him. And so he began touching and kissing and... well, you know. <br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I freaked the fuck out. There was no way I was having SEX while holding in an enormous FART!<br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">But I did. It wasn't enjoyable, but I got through it. And I held it in, somehow. I politely excused myself after we were finished and let it out loudly in the bathroom. Win!!<br /><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I'm still a lady. </div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-64703633712595442572009-08-19T00:09:00.002-04:002009-08-19T00:15:26.637-04:00Wordless Wednesday: Double D Edition<div align="center"><a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/category/wordless-wednesday/"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2O7eSWjdufo5iic_sxAEAmlRRAk4n29M8DZ3MjNvqIcmbMCcHZmLeY_GfcUJsQfAspc_uAZy7mgEsJv11wF5IMw50W7JAuZhgUZZn0fjjfauSV8VRjb5Sr6gf-pLLz4n1la4DxYvsKFSS/s187/Wordless+Wednesday+Button.jpg" border="0" /></a><em> (click that button to see more WW posts over at 5 Minutes for Mom)</em><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mynameistaylor/3835979782/in/photostream/"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3492/3835979782_228b07a02d.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mynameistaylor/3835980624/"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3460/3835980624_82c16dd32b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Dontcha just want to snuggle with them? </div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-65108437545952706962009-08-18T00:24:00.005-04:002009-08-18T00:59:57.591-04:00Everything is BeautifulToday I mourn for the loss of a friend.<br /><br />He quit his job. The job we shared. The only time we got to see each other. And how did I find this out? Fucking facebook.<br /><br />What the hell, Daniel?<br /><br />Heartbreak hurts.<br /><br />I remember when I first met my dear friend Daniel. He stood, looking professional in his silly work uniform, near the front of the store. I glanced at him with shy admiration and said nothing. Daniel looked at me and immediately introduced himself. Asked how I liked my job. Simply talked with me. I don't remember much of him from this time; he was just another employee in my eyes.<br /><br />This sure wasn't the case, and I learned quickly. I remember the day I first felt like we bonded. We were cleaning together in the main room, sweeping and scrubbing. We talked. Daniel confessed to me that he had a crush on a fellow employee - a loud, silly, immature-but-totally-sexy girl I admired. I gave Daniel advice (ask her to a movie!), he squirted me with sanitizer.<br /><br />On one particularly busy day, Daniel was overwhelmed by the customers. He looked at me with frantic eyes, surrounded by impatient assholes, and mouthed "HELP!" In a jiffy I was at his side, ready to help, and telling him, "I'm here, Daniel dear." He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "I love you" he said.<br /><br />After that, I talked to Daniel as much as possible. I told him I had a boyfriend (DB). He told me he was going to kill him (because he loved me). If I hadn't been completely in love with DB at the time, I probably would've fallen for Daniel.<br /><br />Daniel began greeting me by saying "hello beautiful" or "hey gorgeous". I tried calling him beautiful once. He called me a liar. I'm guessing he still doesn't believe me today.<br /><br />One day, to my pleasure, I got Daniel to admit that he finds me "absolutely beautiful" (yes, we both use the word beautiful a lot). I loved him for that. I waltzed out of the store on clouds, belting out beautiful symphonies and nearly flying. Or not. But I was glowing.<br /><br />He's so alive. He's so honest. He loves people and isn't afraid to tell them. He appreciates life more than anybody else I've ever met. And he's living it to the fullest, that's for sure. Wherever Daniel goes, the party follows. My quality of life sky-rockets just being around his energy.<br /><br />I remember the last time I had a real conversation with Daniel. I stayed after work for a while to talk with him. He laughed at me for having a childish watch. I admired him for traveling to Europe to study literature. He admitted that he hates himself sometimes. Then he admitted that he actually really loves me. Then (on a high from being complimented by him)...I left.<br /><br />I wish I had known he was leaving. I wish I had known that it was the last time I'd get the chance to talk with him. I would've hugged him. I would've given him a big kiss on the cheek. I would've told him how much he means to me. I would've told him I admire him, love him... so much.<br /><br />He inspires me to live crazier, be happier, just let it be. He reminds me that it's okay to love unconditionally - to love fucking everything and everyone because, hell, life is beautiful and if you can't appreciate it you might as well lie down and die.<br /><br />Daniel? I wish you hadn't left.<br />Daniel? You're beautiful.<br />Daniel? I love you.<br /><br />And, Daniel? God, I miss you.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Song of the Day: <a href="http://www.playlist.com/playlist/16838041867">Inside Out by Eve 6</a></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><span style="color:#6600cc;">Have you ever lost a best friend? Suddenly?</span> </span></strong></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-87084365926985612942009-08-17T08:15:00.008-04:002009-08-17T09:13:51.181-04:00Dear Sharks...<div align="left"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 382px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.nataliedee.com/040709/tiger-shark.jpg" border="0" />Dear sharks,<br /><br />Let me begin by saying I'm sorry the entire blogosphere <a href="http://www.ihatesomuch.com/?p=1616">spent last week bashing you</a>. It's not your fault Discovery gave you your own week! Actually, the attention doesn't help you at all; you're portrayed as vicious man-eating creatures. Not the case.<br /><br />I'm here to let you know that not every blogger hates you. In fact, some of us (me) really like you! I even have <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/08/goodbye.html">shark shoes</a>.<br /><br />I've always been a shark fan and I always will be. Someday I'd like to swim with you guys, particularly the giant and beautiful whale shark.<br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 531px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 384px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://scienceblogs.com/deepseanews/upload/2007/04/Whale-Shark-01_about_utila.jpg" border="0" />Breathtaking. </div><p>I do my best to let people know about the problems facing you guys: <a href="http://www.treehugger.com/files/2009/05/take-action-help-end-unsustainable-shark-finning.php">shark finning</a>, <a href="http://www.greenpeace.org/international/campaigns/oceans/bycatch">bycatch</a>, <a href="http://marinebio.org/Oceans/Conservation/global-warming.asp">global warming</a> and more. I'm an environmentalist, an animal-lover, and a wannabe marine biologist. I promise to keep fighting for you. </p><p>Some people find it weird that I think you guys are cute, especially the Basking Shark. Look at his adorable wide open mouth! I even have lots of cuddly sharks at home: </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ws66A-Pq0Qpob7N61wqAnowoLe7AK4h7KPAW3NF-UxGl-sfgOWCZw_QD1MhsDDBqJXLjQ9HpBqThWWG9YG_2fyOFu06cOPjFSVQ0ey_bIPKlhXsQSIUyMO16xMXLWFuePQmvfnOUZZs/s320/FP_3105702_BARM_Basking_Shark_060309.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.sharktrust.org/sharknew_images/m_10112006113346_large-Shop-Prod16.jpg" border="0" />Aww. </p><p>I could go on and on about how un-scary you are in real life, how important you are to ocean ecosystems, and how few shark attacks there have been. But I believe I've already made my point. </p><p>I love sharks more than I love tigers. </p><p>I guess that's the end of my letter, sharks. You now know that you have a friend in this bloggy world and she thinks you're awesome. </p><p>Love,<br />Taylor</p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-4324697121879791142009-08-14T00:47:00.004-04:002009-08-14T00:59:51.981-04:00A GoodbyeWe've been together since high school. I loved you more than I thought possible and never imagined that the love would grow throughout the years.<br /><br />We've gone everywhere together. You accompanied me when I traveled to Vancouver with my family. Now that I actually think about it, we met and bonded in Vancouver. We hiked through the dense forests, we explored hidden streams, you even went whale-watching with me.<br /><br />You and I were inseparable for years. You watched me drink and then vomit, you stared while I smoked too much, you saw me lie to my parents and then cry about it. Sometimes you and I would drive to the bookstore after fighting with mom, just to get out of the house.<br /><br />You're my travel-buddy. I can't think of a single time I went road-tripping without you. We've explored Chicago, Vancouver, Toronto, Florida, Michigan, Ohio, and many more I'm sure. I'm beginning to forget all the times we've shared.<br /><br />You were with me when I first met DB. You were there when he asked me to be his girlfriend, when we broke up, and when we got back together. We talk about you a lot; we agree that you're unique, silly, and absolutely perfect for me. We also agree that the years we've spent together are beginning to show.<br /><br />You look tired and beaten, you look old and worn-out. Honestly, you look like you should've retired years ago. And yet I can't give you up. It's like you were made for me, you know me so well, we work perfectly together. However, I know in my heart that I have to say goodbye; you're nearly dead.<br /><br />And so farewell. I will treasure you forever, shark shoes.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SoTtCnUigOI/AAAAAAAAAFU/TqjXLKLgtlQ/s1600-h/sharky+shoes+007.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369677284903125218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SoTtCnUigOI/AAAAAAAAAFU/TqjXLKLgtlQ/s400/sharky+shoes+007.JPG" border="0" /></a>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-31130110098790143112009-08-13T00:23:00.006-04:002009-08-13T10:13:13.746-04:00TMI Thursday: Look Before You Pee<center><a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img alt="TMI Thursday" src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><i>It's TMI Thursday, bitches!! Hosted by the lovely <a href="http://livitluvit.com/">LiLu</a>, as always.</i><br /><br /></center><center><em></em></center><div align="left">While in the UP, DB and I did quite a bit of shopping. One store we stopped into was called <a href="http://www.shop.enchantedknights.com/main.sc;jsessionid=CCD924B228B2A1D94C37D62F0EA3CD95.qscstrfrnt04">Enchanted Knights</a>. It was SO over-the-top. To say the least. Knights and swords and fairies everywhere. Magic wands? Man-skirts? A life-sized knight? They had it all. All the cashiers were dressed in Renaissance clothing (which was also for sale). They even talked in fake accents. Hilarious.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">DB *cough. nerd. cough* loved it.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I thought it was ridiculous and vowed to share it with you bloggy people. I grabbed a business card so I'd remember the name. Except I then proceeded to lose it. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />Would you like to know how?<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The first thing I did after the looooooooong car ride was run inside the house to use the bathroom. Down came the pants, I did my business, and turned around to flush. Guess what was floating in the potty? Amidst the pee and poop? </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />Yep. The business card. Which had been in my back pocket only seconds ago! I had pissed on it. And then shit on it. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />The worst part? I had to fish it out. Couldn't let the toilet get clogged!</div><strong></strong>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-64485142468332314862009-08-12T01:50:00.003-04:002009-08-12T02:10:44.155-04:00Wordless Wednesday: UP Edition<div align="center"><a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/category/wordless-wednesday/"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2O7eSWjdufo5iic_sxAEAmlRRAk4n29M8DZ3MjNvqIcmbMCcHZmLeY_GfcUJsQfAspc_uAZy7mgEsJv11wF5IMw50W7JAuZhgUZZn0fjjfauSV8VRjb5Sr6gf-pLLz4n1la4DxYvsKFSS/s187/Wordless+Wednesday+Button.jpg" border="0" /></a><em> (click that button to see more WW posts over at 5 Minutes for Mom)</em><br /><br /><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2597/3813312259_b51d317f93.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2597/3813312259_b51d317f93.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2568/3814122742_40ff96e141.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2568/3814122742_40ff96e141.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2490/3813310063_e32f4f197f.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2490/3813310063_e32f4f197f.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2511/3814121924_8bebcdc935.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2511/3814121924_8bebcdc935.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2461/3814120470_fa3a9485ac.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2461/3814120470_fa3a9485ac.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2614/3813308609_61452704d7.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2614/3813308609_61452704d7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2484/3814120228_67b734de31.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2484/3814120228_67b734de31.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-56140486501375052272009-08-11T00:23:00.006-04:002009-08-11T00:51:17.053-04:00It Was Mostly Good!So, <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/08/invitation.html">the UP was fun</a>. I had a great time and I want to say THANKYOU to everybody that wished me a good time. Love you guys!<br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Also, I know I promised you something awesome today, but I'm super duper tired from the trip and so all you're getting is some Monday-on-Tuesday-ramblin'. As always, right? </div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong>Good news.</strong> I didn't get eaten by a bear. I know you were worried. I was. Seriously. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong>Bad news.</strong> I didn't see a moose. Fuck. </div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.cs.mun.ca/~jj/pics/misc/Crazy_moose_sign_3.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.cs.mun.ca/~jj/pics/misc/Crazy_moose_sign_3.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> <em>(I wish I saw that sign)</em></span></div><br /><p align="left"><strong>Good news.</strong> DB and I have an insane amount of luck. It rained everyday but never while we were out and about. It rained while we were driving, it rained while we were sleeping, it rained while we were in the hotel. Then we stepped outside to see some awesome geography (god, I'm a nerd). And it stopped. Good karma, bitches. Just sayin'</p><p align="left"><strong>Bad news.</strong> We bought umbrellas just in case and didn't get to use them. </p><p align="left"><strong>Good news.</strong> I discovered my love for the game <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_2054525_play-hearts-computer.html">Hearts</a>. I highly recommend you learn to play it. I was bored during the car ride, decided to try it out, and discovered a whole carddeckful of fun! </p><p align="left"><strong>More good news.</strong> I also discovered my love for Goatse's. *drooool*</p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2071/2310300487_2d94f793e7.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p align="left">In other news, I'm exhausted. I'm off to sleep now. Also? I think I'm funny but I'm really not. Ask DB. Or you could just read my blog. If you're interested in the actual sites/activities we took part in while vacationing you can email me at <a href="mailto:mynameisxtaylor@gmail.com">mynameisxtaylor@gmail.com</a>. Do it. </p><p align="left">Zzzzzzz...</p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-17890678094740342052009-08-07T00:18:00.000-04:002009-08-07T00:18:26.016-04:00The InvitationHey lovers. By the time you read this, I'll be road-trippin' with DB to Michigan's upper peninsula! Exciting, yes? I'll be back late Monday, so don't expect a Monday post - I'm sorry! I promise something awesome (maybe) on Tuesday.<br /><br />Anyways.<br /><br />I wanted to leave something special for you guys while I was gone. I wanted to write something meaningful, something touching, something that would inspire you.<br /><br />Haha, fat chance. Guys? I suck at writing unless I spend some real quality time on it. And I've been busy.<br /><br />So, instead, enjoy this poem. My step dad shared it with me one night and I've never forgotten it. It reminds me that life itself and everything in it is a miracle. It inspires me to live better and love more. It reminds me to stay true to what I believe is right, no matter who disagrees. It's one of my favorite pieces of writing, and I really hope it speaks to you like it did to me.<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;">***</span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">The Invitation</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">by Oriah Mountain Dreamer<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">of meeting your hearts longing.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">if you will risk looking like a fool for love, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can sit with the pain, mine or your own, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can be with your joy, mine or your own, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling is true. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">everyday, and if you can source your own life from its presence.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you have</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can get up, after a night of grief and despair, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">weary and bruised to the bone, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">and do what needs to be done to feed the children.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">and not shrink back.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">when all else falls away.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">I want to know if you can be alone with yourself. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:arial;">and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">***</span><br /></span></span><br /></em></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I hope your weekend is beautiful. </div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-70435757887498645862009-08-06T01:08:00.000-04:002009-08-06T01:08:32.060-04:00TMI Thursday: Sex Dreams<center><a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img alt="TMI Thursday" src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><i>It's TMI Thursday, bitches!! Hosted by the lovely <a href="http://livitluvit.com/">LiLu</a>, as always.</i><br /></center><div align="left"><br />DB and I were talking about sex dreams yesterday. He has them a lot apparently and I have them occasionally. We discussed who we dream about, how often, and whether or not this reflects a true desire for the dreamt person. <em><span style="color:#009900;">What do you think, by the way? I'm curious.<br /><br /></span></em>Anyways. Here's a peek into our convo:</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#6600cc;"><strong>DB:</strong></span> I don't think the dreams mean anything at all. I mean, I do some pretty fucked-up things when I'm dreaming. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Ooh, like what? </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> What? I'm not gonna tell you. It's horrible. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Now you've got me interested! You have to tell me. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> Nope. Too disgusting for the girlfriend's ears. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Puh-puh... pweeease *insert Taylor's adorable pleading face here*</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> I've fucked my mom. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> *pause* Ahahahahahaha!!!</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> Multiple times. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Ahahahahahahaha!!</div><div align="left">(this goes on for about a minute)</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#6600cc;">DB:</span></strong> I've fucked my dad. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. </div><div align="left">(this goes on for the rest of the car ride)<br /><br />So. Should I be worried? </div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-48939773176873316762009-08-05T00:40:00.000-04:002009-08-06T01:09:35.785-04:00Wordless Wednesday: Explorin'<div align="center"><a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/category/wordless-wednesday/"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2O7eSWjdufo5iic_sxAEAmlRRAk4n29M8DZ3MjNvqIcmbMCcHZmLeY_GfcUJsQfAspc_uAZy7mgEsJv11wF5IMw50W7JAuZhgUZZn0fjjfauSV8VRjb5Sr6gf-pLLz4n1la4DxYvsKFSS/s187/Wordless+Wednesday+Button.jpg" border="0" /></a><em> (click that button to see more WW posts over at 5 Minutes for Mom)</em><br /></div><div align="center"><em></em><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366329123309804194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SnkH59a22qI/AAAAAAAAAEs/6U7cAxbJ6vU/s400/DB.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><p align="center"><em><span style="color:#cc33cc;">This is my darling DB. He's exploring his forest with me.<br />(I rhyme..)</span></em></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-64277951899258545572009-08-04T01:12:00.009-04:002009-08-04T01:47:31.245-04:00I Ramble on Mondays 3 (on Tuesday!)Hey lovers! I'm sure you're wondering where your favorite Taylor has been. Or not. I spent Sunday night and most of Monday at DB's cabin. I had a great time, it was really relaxing, his family owns a ton o' land in the middle of the wilderness; we wandered around for hours without seeing anybody.<br /><br />We could have (but didn't...or did we?) lived as nudists and nobody would've known.<br /><br />We also could have <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/06/hold-me-accountable-please.html">had sex in the woods</a>. Unfortunately, I got sick. Damn you, sensitive stomach!!<br /><br />Highlights of the trip?<br /><br /><ul><li>Seeing a lone turkey and three deer in DB's front yard </li><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.insidesocal.com/bargain/wild_turkeyTOMpgc.jpg" border="0" /><br /><li>The fireplace-y, cabin-y sex</li><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.teen-beauty-tips.com/images/fireplace.jpg" border="0" /><br /><li>Exploring the forest until we thought we were lost (we weren't, sillies)<br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://th04.deviantart.net/fs30/300W/i/2008/085/4/8/mystical_forest_by_Jockaz.jpg" border="0" /></li><br /><li>The midnight thunderstorm </li></ul><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 368px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.air-and-space.com/LockettBooks%20prints/19911011%20Gaviota%2036%20Lightning%20Lulu%2011x14%20l.jpg" border="0" />This week may be full of shitty blog posts, by the way. Just to warn you. I'm working extra hours at Job #1 and then leaving for Michigan's upper peninsula Friday morning. Can't wait!! </p><p>Also, I didn't take these pictures. </p><p align="center"><span style="color:#cc33cc;"><strong>Where are you guys traveling this summer?</strong></span></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-89317301569495869452009-07-31T00:19:00.015-04:002009-07-31T01:29:07.234-04:00Relax & Take it Easy...It's Friday!<div align="left">Let me apologize for disappearing on you guys. I forgot to mention that I was heading up north for a few days. Sans Internet.<br /><br /></div><div align="left">I cross-my-heart-hope-to-die-stick-a-needle-in-my-eye-(<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ew</span>) that it will never happen again. Maybe. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">But, hey, guess what? I had an amazing time up north. For the first time in a long time, I surrounded myself with family and nature; two things I now realize I don't spend enough time around.<br /><br /></div><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364478664876561554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SnJ07GkhFJI/AAAAAAAAAEE/gJSIiw8wcdE/s200/cottage+and+what+not+014.JPG" border="0" /><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"> <center><span style="color:#6600cc;">(my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bloggy</span> feet relaxing by the lake)</span></center></span></em><br />We played cards every night. I won <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">every time</span>. We went for walks and kayak rides and sat around the campfire at night. We made a mess out of ourselves while attempting to make <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">smores</span>. <p></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364481298609533314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SnJ3UZ_Y8YI/AAAAAAAAAEM/jKlszG_f9L4/s200/cottage+and+what+not+019.JPG" border="0" /> <center><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;">(my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bloggy</span> feet on a dock)</span></em> </center><br /><p></p><p>We spent too much time together. We got <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sun burnt</span>. We weren't used to being together and got annoyed easily. We got mosquito bites. We fought over trivial things. We got stung by bees. We wandered through the woods alone when we needed to.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364483455852073058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SnJ5R-WF0GI/AAAAAAAAAEU/ORK8zr7kZtE/s200/cottage+and+what+no2t+020.jpg" border="0" /></p><center><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;">(My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">bloggy</span> thumb says 'thumbs up!')</span></em></center><p align="left">At three in the morning I sat by the lake and watched the stars. I didn't find any constellations. I saw a firefly get caught in the reeds and light up our beach. I smoked and drank and laughed. I kayaked slowly around the lake, watching every creature that caught my eye. Dragonflies followed me. I became entranced by three giant turtles and a family of swans. </p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364483866136738818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SnJ5p2xk_AI/AAAAAAAAAEc/FHi_oIT9hx4/s200/cottage+and+what+not+028.JPG" border="0" /></p><center><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;">(My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">bloggy</span> legs enjoy kayaking)</span></em></center><p align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">The verdict? I had a wonderful week. I'm sad that it's over. I can't wait to go up north again. What about you? <strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">What've</span> you been up to while I was away? I'd love to listen...</strong></span></p><p align="left">p.s. HAPPY FRIDAY, BITCHES!!!</p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-8659842743711563422009-07-27T11:02:00.009-04:002009-07-27T11:20:03.669-04:00Meet the Double DsI have two new roomates. Observe:<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363158809411780082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/Sm3EhZz-_fI/AAAAAAAAAD8/hK8y1cBl6uM/s200/Piggies+001.JPG" border="0" /> Guinea pigs!! The black/brown one is names Daffy and the mostly-white one is named Daisy. Hence 'The Double Ds'. Clever, I know.<br /><br /><div><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/Sm3DZkfvAhI/AAAAAAAAADs/q4r8FIGM53s/s1600-h/daffybaby.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363157575329055250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/Sm3DZkfvAhI/AAAAAAAAADs/q4r8FIGM53s/s200/daffybaby.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/Sm3DK7S-AGI/AAAAAAAAADk/sZ0ypgq8g64/s1600-h/daisybaby.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363157323751489634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/Sm3DK7S-AGI/AAAAAAAAADk/sZ0ypgq8g64/s200/daisybaby.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong>Tell me what you think about them</strong>. DB thought they were creepy when he first met the lil guys. Maybe you have to be a rodent person? You tell me. </div></div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-46754380083119495002009-07-24T09:26:00.011-04:002009-07-24T10:22:43.750-04:00Instead of Going to Work...<a href="http://z.about.com/d/specialchildren/1/0/v/1/dayoff.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 389px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 367px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://z.about.com/d/specialchildren/1/0/v/1/dayoff.jpg" border="0" /></a> Job #2 has never been very good to me. <p>I've worked there longer than almost-everybody and I'm still getting less pay and less hours than other employees. A girl that's worked there <em>half</em> the time I have just got a big promotion. Even after I told my hot manager that I was planning on staying throughout the fall. I've always dealt with this and let the managers walk all over me. Until yesterday. </p><p>I was on call for 4 pm. Basically this means that I have to keep an open schedule until 2 pm, at which point I call in and find out whether or not they want me to work. Yesterday I had accidentally gotten myself scheduled to work at Job #1 as well, so I was hoping I didn't have to go in. </p><p>At 9fucking30 in the morning (read: very early for me), Job #2 calls. Wondering if I can come in immediately. <strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">My manager:</span></strong> "You may or may not work until 4. We can't make any guarantees." <strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Translated:</span></strong> "Somebody else didn't show up so we're going to trick you into working your shift and theirs". </p><p>I lazed about in bed wondering whether or not to call them back. I already had plans with DB for the morning. And plans at night if you call working another job a 'plan'. I was pretty tired. Literally sleepy <em>and</em> tired of being treated like shit. </p><p>Can you guess what I did? </p><p>I turned off my phone, rolled over and went back to sleep. I woke up at noon and spent an hour reading <a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday">TMI Thursday </a>posts. I compulsively bought iTunes songs. I went out to eat with DB and then went to the pet store. I had a blast working with my sister. I smoked. I laughed until my stomach hurt. I went out to eat again. I made the most out of a perfect day. </p><p>Fuck you, Job #2.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362021741253997970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 146px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/Smm6XU1dtZI/AAAAAAAAADU/xubnaBRmz50/s200/i+quit.gif" border="0" /></p>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8241084208040956650.post-45017861117330271212009-07-23T00:44:00.001-04:002009-07-23T01:35:03.771-04:00TMI Thursday: What Have I Done?!?<center><a href="http://www.livitluvit.com/category/tmi-thursday" target="_blank"><img alt="TMI Thursday" src="http://i556.photobucket.com/albums/ss5/Livitluvit/tmithursday.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><i>It's TMI Thursday, bitches!! Hosted by the lovely <a href="http://livitluvit.com/">LiLu</a>, as always. Enjoy...</i></center><br /><div align="left">So. DB and I were texting yesterday. We were discussing <a href="http://mynameis-taylor.blogspot.com/2009/07/love-stinks.html">our relationship problems</a>. Meh.<br /></div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">DB:</span></strong> It's not fair that you get to do what you want [drugs] and I don't get to do what I want [buttsex]!</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> Lol. Fine. But only if you smoke with me. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> (haha)</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">DB:</span></strong> Ooh, she drives a hard bargain. I guess I have no choice but to agree!</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">DB:</span></strong> (haha)</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> What, really? I'm so excited!</div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">DB:</span></strong> What? Yesterday you told me you'd rather eat a live mouse than have buttsex. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="color:#cc33cc;">Tay:</span></strong> ...</div><br /><div align="left"><em>(it's true)</em> </div><div align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361514140844988434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VzvkySVhMhY/SmfstF9MmBI/AAAAAAAAADM/1ZIvjz9EI_M/s200/scared+kid+copy.jpg" border="0" /></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3