<?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-11496790</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:34:16.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'> Camp Creepy </title><subtitle type='html'>Holla Back!!!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>205</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-4359075680409322018</id><published>2007-06-16T11:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T11:18:39.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writer's block...sorta</title><content type='html'>I never have a shortage of things to say (we all know this). But sometimes I get home and then I just don't feel like bothering to write about it. Call it laziness or the feeling like few people will actually be reading it, I don't know. Anyhow, here's something that happened to me yesterday that can fully summarize my lame/embarrassing factor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought some new jeans at work on Thursday. I had the day off yesterday and wore them while out running errands. A woman comes up to me in the grocery store to tell me that the size sticker is still on the back of the leg. I blush, thank her, remove it and continue shopping. Then about a minute later a guy comes up and tells me that I had a sticker on my leg. I politely let him know that another woman already informed me and that I had just removed it. Two very kind people, indeed, but it felt like the second guy just had to rub it in. Like I didn't know already that i'm socially awkward and a total dork.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-4359075680409322018?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/4359075680409322018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=4359075680409322018' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4359075680409322018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4359075680409322018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/06/writers-blocksorta.html' title='Writer&apos;s block...sorta'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-2648825864143518558</id><published>2007-05-30T18:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T18:56:13.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday...Far Away</title><content type='html'>Today I had the day off and it was beautiful out. My friend called and we went to a small lake near here. Jack and her son played in the water and we hung out and talked. It was so nice. I haven't had an eventful day off in quite some time. Usually I just run errands or lay around the house. Now i need to do mom things, like laundry and dishes. Sigh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-2648825864143518558?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/2648825864143518558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=2648825864143518558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2648825864143518558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2648825864143518558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/holidayfar-away.html' title='Holiday...Far Away'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-4972314978323476296</id><published>2007-05-30T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T18:48:53.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fly Holocaust</title><content type='html'>Recently I've had a fly problem in my house. Mind you, my house is very clean, I clean several times a week and I don't do anything gross like leave food or soda cans out. Somehow one or two flies have come into the house and now they have multiplied by the hundreds. It's completely nasty and freaky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris and Jack have been going around "fly hunting" but it's just not killing them fast enough. I don't know where or how they are breeding. I can't find the source. But soon I will be fly free. I went out and got 8 glue paper traps today and placed them strategically in the house. I will leave them up until they are completely filled with flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far they've only been up for about 5 minutes and there are already about 5 flies that have succumb to the power of glue. I'm so excited to destroy entire families of flies. I'm bloodthirsty and will not stop until every last fly has perished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-4972314978323476296?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/4972314978323476296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=4972314978323476296' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4972314978323476296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4972314978323476296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/fly-holocaust.html' title='Fly Holocaust'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-6329378144556421088</id><published>2007-05-25T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T21:54:29.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pirates and Porn</title><content type='html'>Last night my boss and I, and other assorted losers that we are friends with, went to the first showing of Pirates 3. We were all dressed up (pics are on my Myspace page) and we had a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However when Josh (Amanda's boyfriend) went to take a pic of us he gave me a weird look as he held my camera. He was staring at the screen on the back. I couldn't figure out what the problem was until he turned the camera around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the camera on playback mode and the pic on the screen was a naughty one (I'll leave it at that). I was a wee bit embarrassed but it could've been a lot worse. The pic he saw was pretty mild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let that be a lesson to you: if you have nekkid photos on your camera, be more careful when you are letting others use it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-6329378144556421088?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/6329378144556421088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=6329378144556421088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6329378144556421088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6329378144556421088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/pirates-and-porn.html' title='Pirates and Porn'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-332908731101282321</id><published>2007-05-25T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T21:48:37.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ajuma part deux</title><content type='html'>If you read Ann's Blog&lt;span class="down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;img src="img/gl.link.gif" alt="Link" border="0" /&gt; then you know about her "Ajuma" post. Ever since then I've been paying special attention while at work and I've realized that these women are a large portion of the overall Asian population that frequents our store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, the day after her post I saw a woman with short, permed hair. She had on a really old Burberry zip up track jacket thing with plain, navy blue sweatpants and then she had on nude stockings and dressy, heeled loafer-style shoes. Such a very odd fashion combination. Then yesterday there was one with a visor on. I just had to chuckle to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So congrats to Ann on enlightening me and giving me a way to categorize these people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-332908731101282321?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/332908731101282321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=332908731101282321' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/332908731101282321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/332908731101282321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/ajuma-part-deux.html' title='Ajuma part deux'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-5886349512721839206</id><published>2007-05-25T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T11:19:11.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh you, you can always get a reservation.</title><content type='html'>I wish I had more time because I could make this a long one, but alas it will be short and sweet. I also don't want to make Kevin all weepy and shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, as all of you know, is his birthday. He's so old now that I've lost track of how old he will actually be. I just want to say that Kevin is most certainly one of my best friends. Although I haven't seen him in far too long, I know he's always there if I need to bitch about something or to just laugh my ass off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Kevin in college and have spent way too many hours potato chipping and fondling the remote control with him. He participated in mine and Jenny's Behind the Summer where we dined on 40s and sticks of butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've traveled all over with Kevin and I've actually had sex with him in 6 countries. (Kind of a weird, and yet interesting, fact.) We've been to Vegas, England, Ireland, Amsterdam, Paris, Berlin and Prague together. And we laughed for about 90% of the time on all of those trips. And we were intoxicated 100% of the time on all of those trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin is dear to my heart and I miss him constantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have a kick ass birthday and I hope that you get everything you've ever wanted. I've heard that Ann might just get you a dead hooker this year! I wish I could be there to celebrate with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Erika&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-5886349512721839206?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/5886349512721839206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=5886349512721839206' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5886349512721839206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5886349512721839206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/oh-you-you-can-always-get-reservation.html' title='Oh you, you can always get a reservation.'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-3096717603336951530</id><published>2007-05-25T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T11:06:05.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"May I Speak to Your Manager?"</title><content type='html'>Now that I am a manager I kinda love hearing this. Part of me hates it because it almost certainly means that I will have to deal with some asshole. (There was actually one time a lady wanted to tell me that one of my girls was awesome and very helpful. I was elated).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days ago these Korean missionary women were in my store and were trying to get Tax Exemption on their purchase. I was near the cashier so I was explaining to them that our company specifies that we don't give tax exemption for missionaries, even though they had a tax exempt card. This is totally true, we don't honor tax exemption for missionaries. They didn't speak English well and were trying to argue with me that other stores in the mall did it for them. I calmly explained that we weren't the same as some of the other stores and that we couldn't do it. And then she said it. She wanted to speak to the manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well guess what bitch....it's ME!!!!! Muahhahahahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess who had to pay tax? Maybe God can reimburse them since they are working for him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-3096717603336951530?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/3096717603336951530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=3096717603336951530' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3096717603336951530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3096717603336951530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/may-i-speak-to-your-manager.html' title='&quot;May I Speak to Your Manager?&quot;'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-7056880019466547400</id><published>2007-05-09T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-09T21:12:14.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vagina Out of Commission</title><content type='html'>I have the dreaded UTI. Back in college Ann and I would pronounce this as "You-tee." I went to the doc today and got some antibiotics and i've been drinking water all day. I'm not in that much pain anymore, nor do i have to pee constantly but it's still frustrating. I haven't had one since high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the day off of work and Jack was at his nanny's house so I went down and picked up my computer at the Apple store (the hard drive died) and got Jamba Juice and then i drove home and took a long-ass nap. It was so relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go to bed early tonight. I need to get up early because our District Manager is coming tomorrow to give me my annual review so i think I will be finding out how much I will be getting as my raise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-7056880019466547400?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/7056880019466547400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=7056880019466547400' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7056880019466547400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7056880019466547400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/05/vagina-out-of-commission.html' title='Vagina Out of Commission'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-7614746323543363775</id><published>2007-04-24T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T21:07:47.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the smell of fish had nothing to do with the fact that my legs were open</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?attid="0.5&amp;disp="emb&amp;amp;view="att&amp;th="11226df2e3c5a3cb" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was awesome. I know that I was bitchin' this morning about having nothing to do but I decided to get off my ass and be a good parent. I put Jack in the car and we went to the Aquarium. I had never been there before but it was really cool. We even got to see them feed an octopus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to Pike Place Market because it's right across the street. Even though that place is a tourist trap they have lots of cool stuff and on the weekdays it's not so crowded. We got fresh raspberries and then we bought mini donuts from a guy that looked like the poor-man's Johnny Depp. He even gave us 3 free ones while we were sitting there eating the ones that we bought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that we walked down from the donut man and got a fresh tofu corn dog. It was good and greasy. Jack actually ate most of it. We went over to a spot where you can sit at look at the water and ate the corn dog and I took some pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we left, the parking garage attendant gave us a discount, which he didn't have to do, but it was very appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove home and Jack took a really long nap while I got to just relax. And I got the house clean. Ahhhh....cleanliness really is next to godliness. Right, Ann?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?attid="0.2&amp;amp;disp="emb&amp;view="att&amp;amp;th="11226df2e3c5a3cb" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?attid="0.1&amp;disp="emb&amp;amp;view="att&amp;amp;th="11226df2e3c5a3cb" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-7614746323543363775?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/7614746323543363775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=7614746323543363775' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7614746323543363775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7614746323543363775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/04/smell-of-fish-had-nothing-to-do-with.html' title='the smell of fish had nothing to do with the fact that my legs were open'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-7303979028096622150</id><published>2007-04-24T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T09:05:14.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Sleep Till Brooklyn...</title><content type='html'>...or until they move out. I have the day off and I want nothing more than to be lazy and catch up on sleep but Jack needs to be constantly entertained. Plus he's making a royal mess and I need to clean up. Yuck, I'm sick of cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to hop in the shower so that we can go to the library. I enjoy the library but it makes me think of all the books I should be reading but I'm just to tired to do that after a long day of refolding shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll take a nap when Jack does this afternoon, that sounds like heaven. Right now I'm going to chug some black coffee and think back to when a "day off" really meant a day off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-7303979028096622150?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/7303979028096622150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=7303979028096622150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7303979028096622150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7303979028096622150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/04/no-sleep-till-brooklyn.html' title='No Sleep Till Brooklyn...'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-2844785463804793116</id><published>2007-04-20T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T20:01:07.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back on this Horse</title><content type='html'>I am back in full blogging swing. Things have obviously been a bit cragy for me these past few months. I've mostly been trying to just work, take care of Jack, and keep this damn house clean. Just a note to all of you future parents out there: when you have a 2 year old, cleanliness is an uphill battle everyday. As I speak he is spitting out fruit snacks onto the coffee table because he thinks it's funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to anyone who still even bothers to look at my blog, there will be new posts on a regular basis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-2844785463804793116?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/2844785463804793116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=2844785463804793116' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2844785463804793116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2844785463804793116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/04/back-on-this-horse.html' title='Back on this Horse'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-3663360939124559568</id><published>2007-04-20T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T19:57:17.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>oddities at work</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y16/Ringojuna/SoulGlo.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday this white guy came into my work with a long leather jacket on, a moustache and a full-on Jheri Curl. He was really weird and said he was a bouncer. He creeped us out and then my boss started singing "Soul Glo" to me and we died laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what it says in the Urban Dictionary for Jheri Curl:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;    &lt;td colspan="2"&gt;       &lt;div class="def_p"&gt;          &lt;p&gt;Named after hair products of Jheri Redding. A perm that loosens the curls of a black person's hair. Typically seen in Michael Jackson impersonators and pimp stereotypes.&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I touched his Jheri curl and couldn't get my hand clean for a week.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt; &lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good times at ol' CK.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-3663360939124559568?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/3663360939124559568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=3663360939124559568' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3663360939124559568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3663360939124559568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/04/oddities-at-work.html' title='oddities at work'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-5949485555536854955</id><published>2007-02-26T17:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T18:03:09.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>new beginnings...and endings</title><content type='html'>ok folks, here goes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you didn't know already...Collin is living in Florida now and we are getting divorced soon. Kind of a weird story but I'm with Chris (yes, my roommate) and everything is pretty much ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my bro just got married last weekend. It was very nice and he will be having a baby in July.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for not posting in a while. my computer was effed up for a long time but I got it fixed today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to email me if you want more details.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-5949485555536854955?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/5949485555536854955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=5949485555536854955' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5949485555536854955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5949485555536854955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2007/02/new-beginningsand-endings.html' title='new beginnings...and endings'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-7834714621198318385</id><published>2006-12-30T23:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T23:56:26.877-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What happened to my year?</title><content type='html'>ummmmm.....sooooooo......in 10 minutes it will be the last day of the year. This begs the question: what the hell did I do with this year???? Let's recap-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work sucked bad at the beginning, I ended up crying during inventory because I was so tired and stressed.&lt;br /&gt;Collin got out of the Navy.&lt;br /&gt;My boss got fired and I got an even better boss.&lt;br /&gt;I got a raise.&lt;br /&gt;Jack learned how to say a ton of stuff (including swear words).&lt;br /&gt;We moved into a cool house.&lt;br /&gt;I lost weight.&lt;br /&gt;I spent too much money.&lt;br /&gt;I got to fly to Phoenix and visit the fam.&lt;br /&gt;My brother got engaged and knocked up his fiancee.&lt;br /&gt;Ann came to visit.&lt;br /&gt;I spent too much time watching TV and not enough time reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's it. Not very exciting. I really hope that next year is better. Really, truly it's gotta be better, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-7834714621198318385?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/7834714621198318385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=7834714621198318385' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7834714621198318385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7834714621198318385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-happened-to-my-year.html' title='What happened to my year?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-4943629073328451130</id><published>2006-12-30T23:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T23:50:13.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love YOO!</title><content type='html'>for starters i am so excited to see ann!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's been too long. now the rest of you need to get your collective asses out here to see me. we will all don flannel shirts and protest something and then listen to Nirvana and weep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, i helped this guy yesterday with a return at work and he had paid cash so I had to see his ID to give hime cash back. He had his wife and 2 daughters with him and all of their passports. He was Korean and when I had to type in his name I noticed his last name was Yoo. I really wanted to spazz out and tell him that one of my best friends has the same last name but he seriously did not speak any English and I didn't want to freak him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long story short I love Ann and anyone named Yoo is alright in my book! I can't wait for January 26!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-4943629073328451130?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/4943629073328451130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=4943629073328451130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4943629073328451130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4943629073328451130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-love-yoo.html' title='I love YOO!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-8596145542877465601</id><published>2006-12-26T21:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T21:54:53.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>white trash xmas</title><content type='html'>i hope that you all had a merry xmas. here's what i did:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pilates.&lt;br /&gt;colored my hair.&lt;br /&gt;ate Jack in the Box because we were planning on going to walmart on christmas to get food because we figured they would be open because they are evil, but they weren't and we had nothing to eat at home.&lt;br /&gt;watched Christmas Vacation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the end&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-8596145542877465601?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/8596145542877465601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=8596145542877465601' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/8596145542877465601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/8596145542877465601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/white-trash-xmas.html' title='white trash xmas'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-8474541918457717222</id><published>2006-12-21T16:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T16:58:48.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like Martha Stewart on PCP</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://planetsean.blogspot.com/martha%20stewart%201.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has been a very full day. I got up at 8 and watched cartoons with Jack. Then I exercised for 30 minutes before showering and getting ready. We went to a couple places (post office, grocery store, dollar store, coffee shack) before coming back home. Collin cleaned the kitchen and I cleaned the living room and we started to cook lunch. After lunch I made the frosting for the cookies that I baked yesterday. That's right, I made cookies and frosting from SCRATCH!! Then I frosted the cookies and made another double batch of cookies dough which is in the fridge right now and I will be baking more cookies once Jack goes to bed. I then put the cookies into the decorative cookies tins that I got and packed them up with my handmade Christmas cards and had Collin drop them off at my store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a good cook, but a messy one. So I had to clean the kitchen, for the second time today. I'm gonna have to clean it again later after I make more cookies and frosting. Then I cleaned my hamster's cage (which is something I loathe), and then took out the Spot Shot cleaner and got some stains out of the carpet. I still have 3 hours until Jack goes to bed. I'm so bored. I feel bad but it's dark out already and raining and cold. I would take him to the mall but i'm broke and then i will want to buy stuff that i can't and it's a big waste of gas to go all the way up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i'm just gonna sit here and watch Food Network and listen to Jack cry because he keeps jumping around and hurting himself. He can say the word "Spiderman" but can't figure out that if you jump off the couch you will hit the coffee table and it will hurt.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-8474541918457717222?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/8474541918457717222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=8474541918457717222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/8474541918457717222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/8474541918457717222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/like-martha-stewart-on-pcp.html' title='Like Martha Stewart on PCP'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-6598700580195035437</id><published>2006-12-21T00:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T00:24:31.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Terrible 2s</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://parangaricutirimicuaro.blogspot.com/tantrum.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack is a pretty good 2 year old. He's only had a few full-on tantrums but he does get whiny and bratty when he wants something and we won't give it to him. So here's the question: Can adults have tantrums too? What if there's something that I really want but I can't have it? Can I stomp my feet and swing my arms and scream and whine? I really wish I could. It might make me feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-6598700580195035437?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/6598700580195035437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=6598700580195035437' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6598700580195035437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6598700580195035437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/terrible-2s.html' title='Terrible 2s'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-3692621289417406581</id><published>2006-12-21T00:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T00:16:36.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We are all cliches</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://skazat.com/justin/images/journal/03_20_05/hotty_girl.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know who these people are but they seemed fitting for this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other morning I stopped by the Starbucks in my mall before going to the bank to get change and I noticed this guy, probably about my same age and he's sitting at a table reading and drinking coffee. This is pretty unusual since our mall is so busy that our Starbucks doesn't really warrant "hanging out" so I began to stare at him. Then I noticed his green apron tossed aside on the table and it dawned on my that he worked there and was probably on a break. Then I scoffed at what I saw. He was such a stereotype. He had on a knitted hat with earflaps and was reading a very large book but had J.D. Salinger's 9 Stories sitting on the edge of the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I though, "Ugh, that's so typical, of course a guy like that would be reading Salinger. What a weiner, try to be a bit unique dude. Your soul is probably tortured because you are all smart and liberal and you are working at Starbucks and you feel conflicted about it. Lame."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my double tall soy latte and sauntered out the door. As I walked to my car I saw my reflection in the front of another store. I, at that moment, was wearing a hat with earflaps, was drinking coffee, had felt conflicted when Starbucks hired me as management (right before I started at CK) and had read 9 Stories and loved it so much that my old email address was based on a story from it. DAMMIT!!! I could've been this guy's girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized I'm a judgemental, stereotypical, idiot. And I'm corny. And I look like a moron half the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-3692621289417406581?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/3692621289417406581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=3692621289417406581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3692621289417406581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3692621289417406581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/we-are-all-cliches.html' title='We are all cliches'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-4924526822457055956</id><published>2006-12-19T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T21:47:33.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas is dead.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://roxanne.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/shopping.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are finally getting a little busier at work but not as busy as I would think considering xmas is less than a week away. We were super slow the first 3 weeks of December. It's been weird and I've decided that either people don't celebrate xmas anymore or everyone has turned to procrastination. I used to wish that people would buy less crap at this time of year but now that these consumers pay my salary I wish they would realize that their relatives will hate them unless they purchase some crap. So "Buy My Book" and get out there and shop, or Jesus will never forgive you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-4924526822457055956?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/4924526822457055956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=4924526822457055956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4924526822457055956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4924526822457055956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-is-dead.html' title='Christmas is dead.'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-5245070608309276703</id><published>2006-12-19T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T21:35:54.011-08:00</updated><title type='text'>seriously awesome</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S-5grqhj1b8"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/S-5grqhj1b8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping that Collin and Chris dress up as them for Halloween next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-5245070608309276703?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/5245070608309276703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=5245070608309276703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5245070608309276703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5245070608309276703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/seriously-awesome.html' title='seriously awesome'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-6469932022425484409</id><published>2006-12-14T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T19:48:41.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'>for those about to rock--i salute you</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.geocities.com/bodacious_bass_babes/thunderbird3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someday i will rock like kim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so our band is not quite in full swing but it's getting there. i had a breakthrough moment today when i realized that i didn't have to be bashful in front of Collin and Chris and I should just fuck around and try to figure out what the hell I'm doing and not worry about looking like a fool. I even made up 2 basslines on my own today. we still don't have one solid song but we have the beginnings to 2. at some point we will have a full song, i'm sure. i'm so excited to finally learn an instrument and really want to learn it and not just do it because I have to for school or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-6469932022425484409?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/6469932022425484409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=6469932022425484409' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6469932022425484409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6469932022425484409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/for-those-about-to-rock-i-salute-you.html' title='for those about to rock--i salute you'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-2304119237306176177</id><published>2006-12-14T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T19:30:58.457-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm gonna make it after all..........</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.momgenes.com/uploaded_images/mom_jeans_lessons-761639.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been doing sooooooooo well with The Hotness. I can't even begin to tell you. We've been doing it for probably 2 weeks now and I've not had a single slip up. No crazy late night binging on nachos, i've even switched to light beer and vodka with club soda instead of regular beer and wine. I've been going jogging with Chris and doing my Crunch Gym fat buring pilates DVD on a regualr basis. i've been eating more fruits and veggies and i feel much better. the best part is that i don't even want the unhealthy stuff anymore. it's like i don't want to undo all of my hard work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's so strange because when i quit doing something bad i can't plan it. whenever i planned to quit smoking i would relapse eventually. then one day i just started to think about how i didn't want to smell bad like the girl i worked with who would come back from her smoke break and i would want to gag. so i just stopped bringing my cigarettes to work and then i would only smoke at night when i got home and within a few weeks i was completely done smoking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will keep you all updated on the progress and how my mom belly keeps shrinking away!!!! Hooray, no mom pants just yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-2304119237306176177?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/2304119237306176177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=2304119237306176177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2304119237306176177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2304119237306176177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/im-gonna-make-it-after-all.html' title='I&apos;m gonna make it after all..........'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-760266577346014183</id><published>2006-12-07T14:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T14:23:43.019-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I may be undead</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://ffmedia.ign.com/filmforce/image/article/602/602498/undead-20050407031430267-000.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the winter it becomes very clear to me that i have no blood circulation. When I go outside my feet get cold and not just kind of cold, more like frozen cold. Here's the problem: they don't warm up ever. Seriously, it's cragy and it's been like this for as long as i can remember. I may be a creature of the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-760266577346014183?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/760266577346014183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=760266577346014183' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/760266577346014183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/760266577346014183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-may-be-undead.html' title='I may be undead'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-1918155626439716645</id><published>2006-12-06T22:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T23:05:16.302-08:00</updated><title type='text'>what is wrong with canadians???</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.olsonboys.org/galleries/olympics/can-swe/images/canadian-fans2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelsey, you are excluded from this rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so today i had this couple bugging my cashier and I about the fact that we didn't take Canadian cash. They weren't really yelling or anything, just stunned. They honestly didn't understand why we didn't take it. I politely informed them that almost every store in the mall wouldn't accept Canadian cash but that we did take Canadian credit and debit. And the guy looks right at me and says, "But why won't you take Canadian cash??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what I would've said if I wanted to get fired:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because the last time I checked we were in AMERICA YOU STUPID FUCKING RETARDED PIECE OF SHIT, DRIVIN' 3 HOURS TO BUY SOME GODDAMED PANTS AND A SHIRT!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here is what I actually said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because it would be too inconvenient."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If these happy-go-lucky bastards didn't pay my salary I would stab them in the throat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-1918155626439716645?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/1918155626439716645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=1918155626439716645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/1918155626439716645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/1918155626439716645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-is-wrong-with-canadians.html' title='what is wrong with canadians???'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-5647815219992149510</id><published>2006-12-06T22:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T22:55:50.095-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't believe this is my boss.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width: 480px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://w132.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http://w132.photobucket.com/albums/q29/erikasthompson/1165378595.pbw" height="360" width="480"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/getyourown.gif" style="border-width: 0;" vspace="1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss is the one with the black hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a nutshell we went to Walmart at midnight on monday night/tuesday morn to buy the Pirates of the Carribean movie. I have never even seen it and my boss bought my copy, but we were drunk and in full garb and we got this guy named Steven who worked there to say "Attention Walmart shoppers...HUZZAH!!!" over the PA system. it freakin rocked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-5647815219992149510?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/5647815219992149510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=5647815219992149510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5647815219992149510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5647815219992149510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-cant-believe-this-is-my-boss.html' title='I can&apos;t believe this is my boss.'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-2410829934289737256</id><published>2006-12-01T22:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T22:34:15.989-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Southern Luvin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.foodnetwork.com/webfood/images/tv/showtitles/paulas_party_header.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how many of you watch the Food Network but I'm pretty obsessed with it. I particulary love Paula Deen. For those of you not familiar with her, she's this hilarious woman from Savannah, Georgia who is an awesome cook. Half the time the stuff she's making is stuff that I can't even eat (southerners eat lots of meat) but I love to watch her cook. Even more I love to listen to her talk. She has the greatest accent ever! I can't even describe it, it's smooth like butter. Honestly you much watch her. This woman could talk me into going to church with her, I swear. She might even convince me to eat a pot roast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-2410829934289737256?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/2410829934289737256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=2410829934289737256' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2410829934289737256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2410829934289737256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/southern-luvin.html' title='Southern Luvin&apos;'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-4353483933549217185</id><published>2006-12-01T22:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T22:28:15.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool Auntie E</title><content type='html'>I talked to my brother earlier today and for those of you who don't already know, he's getting married in February. Well he told me that his fiancee Maricela, is preggers. I'm pretty shocked, and scared for them but I'm excited too. I am just nervous because I don't think they will be able to have the wedding that they want and they aren't even living together right now. my brother is trying to find a better paying job. It's just a lot going on all at one time. I'm sure in the end it will all work out. plus they will have the benefit of having people near them that can watch the baby for free. that's a luxury we haven't had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I am going to be the best Aunt ever, just for the record.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-4353483933549217185?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/4353483933549217185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=4353483933549217185' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4353483933549217185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4353483933549217185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/cool-auntie-e.html' title='Cool Auntie E'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-7479978034638369731</id><published>2006-12-01T16:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T16:22:54.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hotness</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.shapelessmass.com/visuals/vandalism/the_hotness.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say I am very proud of myself! I am on day 3 of The Hotness. Just like Ann has The Duchess, Chris and I have The Hotness. This is what we are calling our new diet and exercise regimen. Although we are eating healthier foods we are mostly just eating less. We used to pig out. We would usually get a dozen donuts every week and Chris would eat fast food everyday. Although Collin and I usually make dinner, we would eat a ton of food still. Last night my dinner was steamed green beans with a dab of soy margarine. I did have a beer but considering I usually have 1 beer every night it wasn't bad because it was my only beer in 3 days. Today a coworker and I made enchiladas and instead of having 4 I only had 2. I will probably have a very light dinner as well. maybe vegetable soup or something. Here's the best part of the whole thing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chris and I jogged at 3 AM today for about 20 minutes!!!!! We ran 5 blocks east, 2 blocks south, and then across and back up. It was so cold outside (barely above freezing) and it felt like there were shards of glass in my lungs. As soon as I got home I had some water and went right back to sleep. It actually wasn't that bad. I felt really good when I was done, and was very proud of myself. I think the last time I really exercised was a year or a year and a half ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So give it a couple months and I plan on being one size smaller at my work. I have decided to stop buying clothes until then. I will be super hot, once again!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-7479978034638369731?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/7479978034638369731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=7479978034638369731' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7479978034638369731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7479978034638369731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/12/hotness.html' title='The Hotness'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-8505941371242151117</id><published>2006-11-30T21:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T21:33:37.549-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bring on the Cragy</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.foothillrecords.com/images/cd_lrg/IMG_0411.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not like my real dad was Eddie Vedder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every winter here I go a little nutty. I start to get kind of depressed/overly introspective and just generally cragy. I over analyse everything and I become obsessed with pointless crap. This is why we had grunge people, I can tell you that with 100% certainty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-8505941371242151117?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/8505941371242151117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=8505941371242151117' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/8505941371242151117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/8505941371242151117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/bring-on-cragy.html' title='Bring on the Cragy'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-7912019168199797499</id><published>2006-11-30T08:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T08:26:33.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.tradebit.com/usr/1site2c/pub/9001/dreampsychology.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had a dream that is so real that it freaks you out??? Especially if that dream involves you doing something that you absolutely wouldn't do in real life??? On Monday night I had a very vivid dream. I won't say what it was about but I've been feeling guilty about it ever since. Were my actions in this dream a reflection of some deep desire that I am in denial of? Or are dreams totally random and I should just stop thinking about it? I feel like a weirdo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-7912019168199797499?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/7912019168199797499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=7912019168199797499' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7912019168199797499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/7912019168199797499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/have-you-ever-had-dream-that-is-so-real.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-4095764057064050403</id><published>2006-11-30T08:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T08:19:09.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.thedonnas.com/data/clique_fanclub/donnas/images/thelounge/donnadrawing.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, Collin and Chris are starting a band. It is either going to be called Fleets to Norway or Pussy Control. I am learning to play bass. So far I know how to play God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols and Dramamine by Modest Mouse. It's actually not that hard, I just have to practice more and get used to it. Collin plays guitar and Chris play drums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told them that as the only female in the band I would get hot. I said I would become as hot as the 3 hot Donnas. The bass player doesn't count. So yesterday I ate about a fourth of what I usually do. I might exercise today as well. I know people usually start transformations at the beginning of the week but for some reason I decided to start right in the middle. This made some of my coworkers skeptical as to how long I would last but day 1 went well and I'm feeling confident about it. So when my band is good enough, expect to see us at a bar near you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-4095764057064050403?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/4095764057064050403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=4095764057064050403' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4095764057064050403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/4095764057064050403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/me-collin-and-chris-are-starting-band.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-6784714384582802901</id><published>2006-11-30T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T08:08:29.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Freak Ass Snow</title><content type='html'>This week has been bizarre. It keeps snowing and freezing and it's screwing up work. No one knows if we can or should close early/open late. It's been so slow that I want to shoot myself. Luckily I have 3 days off this week because i get a comp day from the holiday last week. I am going to finish up my christmas cards and pick up a few more gifts (I really hate buying obligitory gifts) and then I"m done with Christmas. Then I need to mail out some stuff to my family. This is why I really don't like christmas. I feel obligated to go out and spend money that i don't really have on people i otherwise wouldn't be buying things for. I will never make Jack do that. He also won't have stepsiblings either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-6784714384582802901?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/6784714384582802901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=6784714384582802901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6784714384582802901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/6784714384582802901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/freak-ass-snow.html' title='Freak Ass Snow'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-3404925278918107156</id><published>2006-11-26T21:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T21:51:38.837-08:00</updated><title type='text'>a white pre-xmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?attid="0.1&amp;disp="emb&amp;amp;view="att&amp;th="10f27f1b7bc06dd4" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://mail.google.com/mail/?attid="0.1&amp;amp;disp="emb&amp;view="att&amp;amp;th="10f27f322944ae85" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it snowed today. and the ground and my car are covered. i really hope that the mall is closed tomorrow. i could use a day off. the navy already told chris they don't have to go in. and they never do that so i sincerely hope that the canadians know what is good for them and stay home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-3404925278918107156?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/3404925278918107156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=3404925278918107156' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3404925278918107156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/3404925278918107156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/white-pre-xmas.html' title='a white pre-xmas'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-2363676469806631429</id><published>2006-11-25T21:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T21:30:18.278-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Black Friday!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://meisterplanet.com/images/wordpress-entries/black-friday.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the first time I have ever been working in retail on Black Friday. If you don't know about Black Friday you live under a rock and probably don't have internet access anyway so I won't bother explaining it. All I know is that people are absolutely insane. Tiemann (one of my peeps) and I got to our store at 10:45 on Thanksgiving. We didn't open until midnight and the line at Coach was about 50 deep. By the time they opened there were probably about 200 people waiting to get in. At coach they only allow so many people in at once so all day long there was a line to get in. and the sale was only an extra 20% off. that's not that great to stand outside in the middle of the night when it is 15 degrees. it was hard for my employees to even get into our store before we opened. Customers were lurking outside and thought they were shoppers cutting in line. I had to crack the door just a bit to let them in because i was afraid the crowds were going to run inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even today we were super busy and i'm sure we will be busy tomorrow. there were no crazy fistfights or anything. it actually went really smooth at our store. i just can't believe that so many people want the shop in the middle of the night. no thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-2363676469806631429?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/2363676469806631429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=2363676469806631429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2363676469806631429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2363676469806631429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/holy-black-friday.html' title='Holy Black Friday!!!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-5106596859469074855</id><published>2006-11-25T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T21:20:01.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>tofurkey day</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.encarta.msn.com/xrefmedia/sharemed/targets/images/pho/t628/T628563A.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't actually eat tofurkey this year. i had one last year and it was rubbery and salty, like your balls. i did have a lot of yummy food though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this thanksgiving was my best yet. I have had quite a few interesting thanksgivings though. Last year it took Tamara about 5 or 6 hours to come see me and we were only on the other side of puget sound. they year before that I had just had jack and my mom and collin cooked while i laid on the couch all loopy on painkillers. In college Shirl and I went to Philly with Jeff and his mom called her Sandy. This wouldn't have been so bad except that they were dating at the time and we were pretty sure that she didn't like Shirl. We also had to listen to radio Disney because it was the only station Jeff could get in his car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Thanksgiving was different because we went to the house of a couple that we are friends with and we had a potluck thanksgiving. Our friends Mia and Andy had us over and her sister came too. They have a son who is 2 months older than Jack and her sister had 2 kids too. All of the kids played while we talked. it's funny to realize that soon Jack will be relegated to a Kiddie Table. Jack ate about an entire plate of cranberry sauce and I had 3 different potato dishes that were all very carb filled and delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's pretty cool that as people spread out from their parents they create their own new families. although collin and jack and I are a family we don't have any family members around. but Chris is essentially part of our family and being at Thanksgiving it didn't feel like we were intruding, but rather that we were an extension of their family. It was really nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-5106596859469074855?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/5106596859469074855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=5106596859469074855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5106596859469074855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/5106596859469074855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/tofurkey-day.html' title='tofurkey day'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-1821685681504545186</id><published>2006-11-20T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T23:14:57.215-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where do I begin???</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.lifetimetv.com/images/shows/golden/ggix_topright.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thank you for bein' a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, i'm whelmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate the support with the Duchess. Working out will be my biggest struggle because it is absolutely gross out this time of year and it's hard to work out at home because my roommate and Collin probably don't want to watch me doing squats in the living room when they could be watching the history channel. But I will have to work it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin, I have a hard time picturing you swimming at the Y. Do they let you smoke while doing laps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note I am feeling very loved today! I had a long, stressful, tiring day at work (we are gearing up for black friday and i feel like i'm running a marathon) and then i got home and read ann's blog and now i am very happy. My birthday always falls near Thanksgiving and I guess that's good because it helps me reflect on what I am always the most thankful for. I am very lucky to have the greatest friends on the planet!!! I shall give you all the summary, and it's long, so bear with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Pete, Safin and Jeff the first day of  college.  actually, the first hours at college. Sarah won me over with the fact that she was wearing a Beastie Boys tshirt and got me drunk that night on the rum she smuggled in. pete and jeff made me laugh and i think we even met reese that night, and we went "gambling" at that stupid casino night thing. I already knew Alli from high school and it seems so odd that we are all so close and that reese and alli live together now (how strange how fate works). i love the fact that we are all friends still and even though we don't talk often,when we do it feels like I just saw them yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Ann and Kevin through pete and i thought ann hated me at first. it turns out her chinky eyes are very off-putting and makes it look like she's scowling when she's really not. once i got to know ann i loved her! me, her, pete and kevin would hang out for hours at rodrigues-laughing, drinking coffee, chain smoking, thinking of porn titles and plotting our vegas excursion. I also met jenny at this time and we would practically live at kevin's apartment (and later star in our very own Behind the Summer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ann became my roomie after safin and i participated in the Asian Exchange Program. ann and i would sit in our room and she would film my "gooch confessionals" and we would play "Jumpin'" and "could Jew only take my picture" on repeat.  she would feed me pancakes at 3 am and I would yell at her for making us keep the window open in the winter, causing icicles to form on the window and me to freeze my ass off while i slept. the last time i saw ann she got to see Jack and unfortunately he was not in a good mood. although it was soooooo nice to see her I wish i could see her more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go on and on about all of my friends and how much they all mean to me but ultimately they were and are a part of my family. Shirl picked lice from my hair. me and jenny and kevin have had so many adventures in the city. ryan and i got to toss vhs porno tapes at leah's head. safin and I went to countless sample sales. pete and i would dance to britney. jeff and i went on dangerous late night journeys for weed in the bronx. the list goes on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all i know is that i've lived in a nice house, a shitty apartment and everything in between. I've had more money than I knew what to do with and been so broke i couldn't even take the subway. i've had good times and bad times. all sorts of jobs. within four years i graduated college, got married and had a kid. But although I live very far away from those who mean so much to me, and although it hurts my heart to see all of them hang out and have a good time when I wish i was there, i know that they haven't forgotten about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chris and collin both agree that none of their friends would say the nice things about me that you guys have. at the end of the day i know that all i have to do is think of a funny memory from college or an inside joke and it will still make me chuckle. i definitely have the bestest friends in the world! Thanks for an awesome birthday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-1821685681504545186?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/1821685681504545186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=1821685681504545186' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/1821685681504545186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/1821685681504545186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/where-do-i-begin.html' title='Where do I begin???'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-2747186105199971288</id><published>2006-11-19T10:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-19T10:52:05.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>can i kick it Duchess style???</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://myspace-029.vo.llnwd.net/01431/92/00/1431110029_l.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yoo are the wind beneath my wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to lose my gut. seriously. it's just getting disgusting. when i look down i feel like i am 3 months pregnant. that's where i really gain weight- the gut. i still wear the same size pants but my belly hangs over. i don't actually need to lose that many pounds but i need to get more healthy. I eat nachos about 3 times a week. I love healthy stuff and i really need more energy but it's just so much easier to throw cheese on chips and call it a meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know that ann has been rockin' the duchess and has had a lot of success and that gives me hope. ann and i used to live very unhealthy lifestyles in college and i know that she's tried a billion diets over the years but she seems to really enjoy what she's been doing and she's even going to the gym and i'm very proud of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so should i do it too? should i give the Duchess a chance? because if i don't do something soon i'm going to have to start wearing Mom Jeans to cover the gut???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-2747186105199971288?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/2747186105199971288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=2747186105199971288' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2747186105199971288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/2747186105199971288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/can-i-kick-it-duchess-style.html' title='can i kick it Duchess style???'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116383151122880934</id><published>2006-11-17T22:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T22:31:51.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jack's bday</title><content type='html'>today was jack's second birthday. it wasn't super exciting but he got a few good gifts and we hung out and ate cookies and cupcakes. it's weird because as i write this he technically wasn't even born yet, 2 years ago. he was born about an hour from now. it's hard to believe that was 2 years ago and it's hard to imagine him as a little baby. especially because he now knows the phrase, "ok fuck." i know, that's great parenting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116383151122880934?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116383151122880934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116383151122880934' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116383151122880934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116383151122880934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/jacks-bday.html' title='jack&apos;s bday'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116383127584693892</id><published>2006-11-17T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T22:27:55.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the joy of cooking...with me</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://ec1.images-amazon.com/images/P/1551521288.01._SS500_SCLZZZZZZZ_V1139901738_.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today i decided to be Suzy Homemaker and bake a butt load of cookies. there is a receipe in the book above that i love. they are vegan molasses cookies. they are so freakin good. i made 5 batches of them. i am bringing most of them to my work but i will be shovelling the rest into my mouth in an attempt to increase the size of my gut. because it's just not winter unless i'm binging on carbs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116383127584693892?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116383127584693892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116383127584693892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116383127584693892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116383127584693892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/joy-of-cookingwith-me.html' title='the joy of cooking...with me'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116332271271771003</id><published>2006-11-12T00:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T01:11:52.743-08:00</updated><title type='text'>oh pete, how do i love thee...</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.dog-birthday-parties.com/images/party-dog-303x365.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that ann already expressed her love for pete on this, the day of his birth, but i would like to put in my 2 cents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met pete within hours of being at college and loved him right away. we got drunk that night off of rum and diet coke and justin tried to hook up with sarah and i. &lt;br /&gt;I've been in a car and/or hotel room with pete for a week straight when we went to vegas. I lived with him for basically all of college. we have laughed and cried together. he is the "witness" on my marriage certificate. he has flown all the way out to visit me. He and ann flew me all the way out there to visit them . we have so many inside jokes I can't even count them all. i don't talk to him as much as i would like but when we talk it's like i just saw him yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wish i could've spent his birthday with him but someday we will have a giant scorpio party and it will be so amazing we will all get alcohol poisoning simultaneously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116332271271771003?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116332271271771003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116332271271771003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116332271271771003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116332271271771003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/oh-pete-how-do-i-love-thee.html' title='oh pete, how do i love thee...'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116301107330146990</id><published>2006-11-08T10:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T10:37:53.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>say what?????</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://i.a.cnn.net/cnn/2006/POLITICS/11/08/rumsfeld.ap/newt1.rumsfeld.afp.gi.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the lord has been too kind to me this month. First the brit news yesterday and now rumsfeld resigns. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody pinch me. i hope this means that soon i'll get that pony i've wanted since i was 10.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116301107330146990?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116301107330146990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116301107330146990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116301107330146990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116301107330146990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/say-what.html' title='say what?????'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116295785924951452</id><published>2006-11-07T19:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T19:50:59.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jesus gave me my birthday present early</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://img.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/startracks/061120/britney_spears2.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe it!! I don't know what is better: that I no longer look more appealing than Britney Spears or that she is finally coming to her senses and ditching Kfed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A year ago I swear i had a better body than Britters. But that shouldn't happen because she's a bigillionaire and I'm not and although we both like to pig out she can hire a personal trainer that will handcuff her to a treadmill for 2 hours while I just ruminate on the couch watching "Unwrapped." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looks fantastic and I pray to all that is holy that her next album is good. I want it to be so slutty and pornographic and I want her to look even trashier than XTina in her assless chaps. I want her to come out and say that Kevin is a lazy ass pothead with B.O. who has absolutely zero talent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps i shouldn't ask for too much just yet. I'll just savor this while I can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116295785924951452?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116295785924951452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116295785924951452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116295785924951452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116295785924951452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/jesus-gave-me-my-birthday-present.html' title='jesus gave me my birthday present early'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116260283000950093</id><published>2006-11-03T17:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T17:13:50.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>this weather SUCKS!!!!</title><content type='html'>when we got up today Collin said that the way today's weather is it makes you feel like you were born dead. that pretty much sums it up. It's blowing freezing rain and I haven't seen the sun all day. It's 5 and it feels like midnight. Why did the Vikings settle here? They must've been crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116260283000950093?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116260283000950093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116260283000950093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116260283000950093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116260283000950093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/this-weather-sucks.html' title='this weather SUCKS!!!!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116253637275140006</id><published>2006-11-02T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T22:46:12.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>absenteeism</title><content type='html'>I know i haven't written anything in awhile. I'm sure that the 5 people that read this are just devastated by this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the whole time I was in Arizona at my parents' house I couldn't get on to Blogger. I still don't know why but everytime I would log in it would boot me off the internet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was gone my damned dog ran away but I went to the pound yesterday and he was there and I had to pay $80 to take him. It was worth it but the people made me feel all guilty about it. I wasn't even home when he got loose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now he is snuggling next to me on the couch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So just a reminder, if you change your phone number make sure to change the tag on your pet's collar so that when they freak out and decide to run away the nice people at the pound can actually get in contact with out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116253637275140006?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116253637275140006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116253637275140006' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116253637275140006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116253637275140006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/11/absenteeism.html' title='absenteeism'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116201907341791195</id><published>2006-10-27T23:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-28T00:04:33.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>damned blogger</title><content type='html'>While I was gone I could've put up a million posts but apparently my parents' computer does not like the Blogger site. Every time I would go to the home page it would boot me off the internet. It sucked. So when I wake up tomorrow...it's ON!!! Consider yourself warned. Here's just a preview of what you can expect:&lt;br /&gt;-refreshing views on Christianity&lt;br /&gt;-my dumb ass hound&lt;br /&gt;-douchebags at the airport&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so much more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116201907341791195?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116201907341791195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116201907341791195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116201907341791195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116201907341791195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/damned-blogger_27.html' title='damned blogger'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116132455307194178</id><published>2006-10-19T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T23:09:13.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going home?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.phoenix-website.com/images/phoenixskyline.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;look at that delicious smog. Beat that LA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bright and early on Saturday morning we are flying to phoenix. i haven't been there in 2 years. That's quite some time. We are going up north to my parents' house and then we will be back in the valley for a few days. I might go visit the school I used to work at. I probably won't remember any of the kids. I'm sure most of them have graduated or dropped out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have big plans because I have no money, so I hope I get some early birthday cash. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird because part of me feels like I'm going home and another part of me feels like Everett is my home. It's bizarre too because my parent's no longer own the house i grew up in. How long does it take before the place you grew up becomes just that; and the place you are now becomes "home?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116132455307194178?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116132455307194178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116132455307194178' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116132455307194178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116132455307194178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/going-home.html' title='Going home?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116045391642014470</id><published>2006-10-09T21:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T21:18:36.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>babies havin' babies</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.hasbro.com/babyalive/images/center_promo.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have Jack I watch a lot of cartoons and other kids' shows. Of course that also means I have to watch a lot of ads for crap that kids might want. One of these commercials is for a doll called "Baby Alive." I remember being little and having my Cabbage Patch Preemie doll and my best friend had a very realistic looking baby doll as well. We used to play with them all the time. We would pretend to feed them and burp them and even change their diapers, but we always used our imaginations for the last part. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently young girls nowadays like to actually see simulated dookie. You can feed this doll and then she actually takes a dump. Plus, her freakishly large, anime-sized eyes creep me out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116045391642014470?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116045391642014470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116045391642014470' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116045391642014470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116045391642014470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/babies-havin-babies.html' title='babies havin&apos; babies'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116037208836753529</id><published>2006-10-08T22:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T22:34:48.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stitchin' Bitches</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://myspace-505.vo.llnwd.net/01254/50/54/1254324505_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my Halloween dress. My boss made it. She kept telling me that it was so easy to make and i thought she was full of crap until I made a dress from start to finish in about 5 or 6 hours. As soon as she takes pictures of it I will post them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is seriously easy to make a dress like this. I actually went to the fabric store within hours after she showed me how to do this and got the pattern and some fabric. I put together the body of the dress in one evening. All I need now is some fabric for the sleeves and some cool appliques for the front. When I have finished it I am going to sell it on ebay. I will continue to make more of these and sell them because they go for about $300 on ebay and only cost about $50-$60 to make. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so addicting and it feels good to do something from start to finish like that. So start putting your orders in now for crazy medieval gowns and I will get on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116037208836753529?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116037208836753529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116037208836753529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116037208836753529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116037208836753529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/stitchin-bitches.html' title='Stitchin&apos; Bitches'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-116037142700423558</id><published>2006-10-08T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T22:23:47.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the Beast</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://myspace-062.vo.llnwd.net/01260/26/08/1260418062_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://myspace-366.vo.llnwd.net/01260/66/39/1260419366_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://myspace-940.vo.llnwd.net/01260/04/90/1260420940_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who knew that one wig could cause such mayhem? Chris bought this wig online and the name of it on the website is "the Beast." It came the other day and everyone went a little bonkers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our house is so metal it hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-116037142700423558?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/116037142700423558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=116037142700423558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116037142700423558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/116037142700423558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/beast.html' title='the Beast'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115985547796497301</id><published>2006-10-02T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T23:04:37.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is that enough dipping areas?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.zaytoonsrestaurant.com/Portals/1/locations_smith_main.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am watching the Secret Life Of... on the Food Network. I love this show and this episode is all about dips. I'm sitting here ready to murder someone for chips and guac and suddenly Zaytoons comes on. They are showing the guy how to make hummus and all I can think about is when everyone took Collin and me there when we went out there when I was preggers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just remembered how I dared Pete to swim nekkid in a tub of hummus and he told me he would as long as I paid for the hummus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115985547796497301?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115985547796497301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115985547796497301' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115985547796497301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115985547796497301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/is-that-enough-dipping-areas.html' title='Is that enough dipping areas?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115985474272400576</id><published>2006-10-02T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T22:52:22.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>our Jewish grandmother</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.emsb.qc.ca/merton/showcase/canada/pictures/perogies.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday when we woke up Chris got to work on a delicious feast for us. When I went to work at 11 he had finished only part of his creation. He decided to make us Perogies. &lt;br /&gt;He made the filling and then he left to go run errands. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home from work he was still finishing up the perogies. He had already made a few batches and was rolling out more dough and had a huge heap of finished ones on the counter. When all of them had been boiled we chopped up some onions and apples and cooked them in a pan with butter and then we dropped in the perogies until they were golden brown. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put a huge dollop of sour cream on my plate and got to it. Yummmmmmmmmm. It was so good. I even brought some for lunch today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn I love our roommate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115985474272400576?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115985474272400576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115985474272400576' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115985474272400576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115985474272400576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/our-jewish-grandmother.html' title='our Jewish grandmother'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115985361212205440</id><published>2006-10-02T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T22:33:32.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Madonna may love NY, but I know many who don't</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://homepage.mac.com/wildlifeweb/seattle/seattle_photos/Seattle-Lake-Union_01tk.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got off the phone with my friend Michael who lives in New York. He has lived there for many years now and has decided he is moving somewhere in March. He doesn't even know what state he will be moving to, he just has to get out of NY. I find that astonishing. He's even told his work already that he will be leaving and they have already hired his replacement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that it's stressing out Ann and Jenny and as much as I miss it I really felt ready to move away from there when I did. What I must wonder is why people spend their whole lives there when it is no easy feat to live there. Especially with a family and everything. I really don't understand why so many immmigrants stay there. I realize it might be a good start but I would move somewhere cheaper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is it about New York that is so hypnotic and exciting but also so incredibly aggrivating? The people, the surroundings, the price of everything? And how do you pick your next destination once you have decided to leave?? Well, to all of you who are itching to get out, I suggest picturesque western Washington. We have stinky hippies, serial killers, flannel shirts, lots of trees, the water, mountains, beautiful views, cute neighborhoods, more coffee shacks than you could imagine and ME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115985361212205440?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115985361212205440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115985361212205440' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115985361212205440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115985361212205440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/10/madonna-may-love-ny-but-i-know-many.html' title='Madonna may love NY, but I know many who don&apos;t'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115930604917988881</id><published>2006-09-26T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T23:43:36.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the Philanator</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.nursingadvocacy.org/images/dr_phil.gif&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I caught the end of Dr. Phil. I have a love-hate relationship with this man. I don't think I dislike him as much as his fans. My mom, for example, thinks he's a genius. I don't think he's a genius, any idiot can call a bunch of idiots a bunch of idiots, but most people don't because they don't want to "hurt people's feelings" or it's "none of their business." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the show on last night was one of those ones where phil puts up cameras in a house and films a family's drama. Collin and I were discussing why anyone would want to publicly shame themselves by doing that. the only thing i can think is that these people think that Phil is god and will magically solve all of their problems. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could air my dirty laundry on that crazy bald man's show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115930604917988881?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115930604917988881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115930604917988881' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115930604917988881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115930604917988881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/philanator.html' title='the Philanator'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115930402835702872</id><published>2006-09-26T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T13:53:49.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss JAckson if You're Nasty</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.adrians.co.uk/acatalog/usat673.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some help from all of you. we were watching Oprah last night and she had janet jackson on. So we started talking about her and somehow we got on the subject of the Rhythm Nation video. Neither Collin nor Chris has seen this video. My jaw hit the floor. I couldn't believe it. I told them that it was one of the 10 most remembered videos of my youth and they were laughing at me. Chris said he never saw it because he grew up practically on a farm and didn't have cable and Collin said that he was too busy "Welcoming the Jungle" in the late 80s to have seen it. So I told them that they were insane and I would poll my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So do you guys remember this video and how popular that song was??? I need to win this arguement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115930402835702872?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115930402835702872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115930402835702872' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115930402835702872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115930402835702872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/miss-jackson-if-youre-nasty.html' title='Miss JAckson if You&apos;re Nasty'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115881834042342614</id><published>2006-09-20T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T22:59:04.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pop Fart</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.chrysler.org/warhol/images/SelfPortrait.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting here watching this really interesting show on PBS about Andy Warhol. I've never been a big Warhol fan. I'm sure many people would call me a blasphemer but I just don't necessarily think he was a genius. I, like most people, was only really familiar with his later works but they were showing a bunch of his earlier stuff that was mostly comprised of graphic art and drawings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really never knew much about his life before. it was kind of sad really. he had a bizarre childhood and before he became a super-famous ego maniac he was a pretty sad and pathetic person. He hated the way he looked, hated intimacy, was awkward and embarassing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the biggest problem I've always had with him is how he had his drugged-out groupies churning out his work for him at the end of his life. it just doesn't seem like you can call something your own when you have somebody else do it for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Collin made an interesting comparison to paris hilton being like andy warhol. seems weird at first but it kind of makes sense. i remember when i was living in new york, no one outside of new york or LA even knew who she was. and then all of a sudden she's everywhere. and she herself becomes more famous than anything that she's done. she's becomes "pop" just like Andy became "pop." They both want to be the most famous people in the world, simply for the sake of being famous. I don't know why that bothers me, but it does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115881834042342614?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115881834042342614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115881834042342614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115881834042342614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115881834042342614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/pop-fart.html' title='Pop Fart'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115830539502348238</id><published>2006-09-15T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T00:29:55.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yikes!</title><content type='html'>there's a small possiblity that i may be promoted in as soon as a month. I am excited and nervous. Any advice????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115830539502348238?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115830539502348238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115830539502348238' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115830539502348238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115830539502348238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/yikes.html' title='Yikes!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115830529106768391</id><published>2006-09-15T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T00:28:11.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sexy Back Addiction</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://myspace-761.vo.llnwd.net/00845/16/77/845957761_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our new Muzak CD at my work it has Justin Timberlake's new song SexyBack. We are all obsessed with this song. Seriously, it's bad. We wait patiently for hours for it to come on in the rotation. As soon as it comes on we become totally unprofessional and we all start dancing and singing. It's so bad that Shirley (my area manager) was in my store today to audit us and when it came on we started squealing so loud that they could hear us all the way from where we were in the very back of the store up to the front. To give you a better idea, we were actually in the stock room and our store is 6000 square feet!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are psychotic. But when I look at this picture I must know how Britney could trade him in for KFed...for shame.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115830529106768391?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115830529106768391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115830529106768391' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115830529106768391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115830529106768391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/sexy-back-addiction.html' title='Sexy Back Addiction'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115769520120546730</id><published>2006-09-07T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T23:00:01.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>effing guilt</title><content type='html'>I really, really hate it when my mom "confronts" me about something it always feels like a freaking intervention. She can never just come out and say something, she has to make a big production out of it. I think it's her catholic upbringing. she just makes me feel like shit and and hate it. uggghhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115769520120546730?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115769520120546730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115769520120546730' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115769520120546730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115769520120546730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/effing-guilt.html' title='effing guilt'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115760894567983796</id><published>2006-09-06T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T23:02:25.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>unpacking (fudge)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://proton.ucting.udg.mx/galeria/Icons_1/suitcase.png&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything is physically in our new house but it's not all where it is supposed to be. the important rooms, the kitchen and living room, are done. my room is half done but the spare bedroom and my closet make me want to rip my hair out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think i will just have to die in this house. seriously i can't move anymore. or i will wait until i'm very rich and can have someoen do it for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115760894567983796?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115760894567983796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115760894567983796' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115760894567983796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115760894567983796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/unpacking-fudge.html' title='unpacking (fudge)'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115751364772632730</id><published>2006-09-05T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T20:34:07.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>home sweet home</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.vintageneedleworks.com/Home%20Sweet%20Home%20Photo.gif&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided that I love my new life. New life???? Well, since I've moved a lot of things have changed. We have a roommate, our own house. Collin is working at Van Heusen (we are part of the same company) and he is also going to start painting for this guy who is married to a very nice lady that we just met. He is a contractor and needs someone he can trust to go in and paint the inside of this huge building that is being rennovated. He will be getting paid under the table and they are going to pay him pretty well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our roommate, Chris, totally rocks. we went out and bought a hookah and mint and double apple tobacco the other day. He and I are starting to crochet together and him and collin are going to start a band. I'm supposed to play the keyboard in this band but I unfortunately do not know how. I feel bad for Chris because he works all the damn time. He's a "nuke" in the navy which means he's always on the damn ship. He just taught jack how to do somersaults, which is pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of jack, he said the word "fuck" today, twice. we are so screwed. I know any day he will start saying the phrase "goddamn" because I say it all the time. he will get in trouble at preschool, i know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115751364772632730?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115751364772632730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115751364772632730' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115751364772632730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115751364772632730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/09/home-sweet-home.html' title='home sweet home'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115699660803156395</id><published>2006-08-30T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T20:56:48.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>kevin ruins lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://shim1.shutterfly.com/procgserv/47b6d606b3127cce9854bb9f400e00000027118AZNHDly3aNK&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well well well...what do we have here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin had to go and bring up my nemeses: The Doodlebops. And look what has happened-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Mrs. Depp said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    well lookie here, if it isnt one ugly fugly moron. bahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    You know, I didnt look this up because im still on some doodlebop rampage against you. I actually just remembered about what you did to my friend. And LOOK! your STILL talking about the doodlebops. I really didnt expect that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Man, are you like...one of those big german girls that serve pints of beer? If so, hook me up! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Heidi...hahahaha" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, where do I start? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I'm honored to have a true fan of my blog. This girl must check back every day to read my incredibly intelligent, witty and thought-provoking blog posts. Thanks so much. Unfortunately she had to stumble across Kevin's comment to me and it sparked a fire. Apparently the mere mention of the Doodlebops makes her rush to defend her friend's honor, even if the comment was not directed toward her friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, I'm confused as to why she would assume that I am dressed as a German pub wench when it is painfully obvious that I am a pirate and I also mention pretty thoroughly that i went as a pirate. I have nothing against Bavarian beer-slinging maidens, but that's not what I went as. A more effective put-down would've been calling me a dirty Rennie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Heidi, I would like to apologize for my friend and the fact that he reopened old wounds, but I can assure you...I will never dress as a Doodlebop. I'll leave that up to you and your friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115699660803156395?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115699660803156395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115699660803156395' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115699660803156395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115699660803156395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/kevin-ruins-lives.html' title='kevin ruins lives'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115699573087340360</id><published>2006-08-30T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T20:42:10.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i will never be amish</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.themediaman.com/30psd/amish.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally have the internet again. it's only been a week but it felt like a lifetime. granted, i didn't miss anything important,but what the hell am i supposed to do when i get home from work when i don't have cable or the internet? I am completely addicted to technology. i know it's sad and the souls of hippies everywhere are shrieking but I just can't help it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115699573087340360?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115699573087340360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115699573087340360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115699573087340360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115699573087340360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-will-never-be-amish.html' title='i will never be amish'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115631369444975520</id><published>2006-08-22T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T23:14:54.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>somebody kill me</title><content type='html'>we are moving tomorrow. I'm excited and stressed. not so much stressed actually, just weary. I will be without the internet for a week and it's making me angry. I won't know what to do with myself. I might actually have to do something productive like unpack. I'm going to go to sleep. I need to get up at 7 to pick up the uhaul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing will be as bad as having to move Jenny out of Brooklyn in an afternoon during a rainstorm while her junkie roommates were out. That was a nightmare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115631369444975520?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115631369444975520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115631369444975520' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115631369444975520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115631369444975520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/somebody-kill-me.html' title='somebody kill me'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115622170260836351</id><published>2006-08-21T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T21:41:42.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Pirate's Life for Me....HUZZAHHHHH!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://myspace-802.vo.llnwd.net/01073/20/84/1073194802_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss and I went to the Ren Faire in Gig Harbor yesterday. I was excited to go because I never get to do anything fun anymore. I always spend my days off on my couch or running errands. She let me borrow some of her garb and we drove over early to spend a day melting in the hot sun, drinking, singing, sweating, and acting like an ass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the faires she goes by the name of Commodore Fox and she has many ships in her fleet. The one that I am now quarter master of is the Black Widow; and now my name is Keel Haul Kate. I was a bit wary of hanging out with Rennies all day but it ended up being so much fun. If I ever got into it I don't know if I would want to be a pirate, maybe a wench or something. Or a crazy old fortune teller type woman or something. Amanda also has another persona where she plays a barbarian. She goes all out with her garb though. She spares no expense and we were the best dressed pirates at the faire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://myspace-941.vo.llnwd.net/01073/14/95/1073195941_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a real dagger in my corset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked in at about 11 and did the rounds before heading off to the pub. Amanda was not only my designated driver but also bought all the booze and it was great. I got two pints of stout and had some mead and some Cuban Rum that Amanda snuck in. We met this group of crazy lesbians who adored us and kept taking our pictures. One of them went by the name of Mistess Mary and she was a professional dominatrix and claimed she has a dungeon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While in the pub Captain Splinter and his crew stormed in a put on this funny ass show where they sang all of these hilarious pirate songs. He told me I had nice teeth and therefore couldn't be a true pirate. We were playing this drinking game called Buffalo where you can only hold your drink in your left hand. He busted me and I had to drink a whole cup of mead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://myspace-323.vo.llnwd.net/01073/32/37/1073197323_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda informed me that the one thing that really makes her blood boil is seeing people wearing wings at the faire. There were many a "goth faeiry" and let me tell you something: those girls are either very underweight or very overweight, there is no inbetween. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old man told us that he would hang us for trying to charge a toll on his bridge and then we made some rude comment back to him about being "well hung." We tried to steal some favors from the royal women who were left alone in their camp and we ended the day chatting with 3 Barbarians who were very drunk and we made them "Step and Fetch" us all sorts of things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://myspace-140.vo.llnwd.net/01073/04/19/1073199140_l.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end I only ate some fries and coleslaw because there were no Tofurky legs. I was pretty starved so Amanda and I stopped at Taco Time on the way home and pigged out. It was fun and I must say I will have to go back with her next year. And Ann- it was not easy to pee with all of that stuff on, especially in a portapotty. Did you know they had portapotties in Medeival times? And shaved ice, and corn dogs...at the corn doggery!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115622170260836351?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115622170260836351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115622170260836351' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115622170260836351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115622170260836351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/pirates-life-for-mehuzzahhhhh.html' title='A Pirate&apos;s Life for Me....HUZZAHHHHH!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115579407041474156</id><published>2006-08-16T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T22:54:30.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Canadian Tuxedo</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://img473.imageshack.us/img473/9595/canadiantuxedo7uj.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just pondering the fashion choices of many Americans and our friendly neighbors to the North. Why do people not understand that you simply cannot wear a jean jacket while wearing jeans???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care if they are the same shade of denim or even made by the same company, you simply cannot do this. It's inexcusable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've been warned, I never want to witness this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115579407041474156?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115579407041474156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115579407041474156' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115579407041474156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115579407041474156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/canadian-tuxedo.html' title='The Canadian Tuxedo'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115561594767932804</id><published>2006-08-14T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T21:25:47.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your secret life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.joe-ks.com/archives/Nobreaks.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My manager and I were have a conversation the other day about what we don't want our employees to know about us. She won't connect to anyone on myspace from our work because she has all of her crazy photos from the Ren Faires that she goes to. I understand because I wouldn't want our staff to see me acting like a drunken pirate either. But my myspace profile is boring and nothing is that damning on there. However, I would never let anyone know about this blog. I would be mortified. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the question: what are you hiding from your coworkers/subordinates?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115561594767932804?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115561594767932804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115561594767932804' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115561594767932804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115561594767932804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/your-secret-life.html' title='Your secret life.'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115501843957668783</id><published>2006-08-07T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T23:46:32.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the future is now</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://wbli.com/images/morningshow/britneyweddingphoto2.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've already lasted longer than them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raise your hand if you thought that life would be better as a grown up? I couldn't wait to be older. I would dream of it all the time. I couldn't wait to drive, be 18, be 21, graduate college. But why, for what? I look at Jack and his life is so easy. The hardest thing he has to deal with is not being able get what he wants all the time and he can't commmunicate his desires very well, but that's it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the pictures of Shirl's wedding made me realize just how grown up all of us are. It does have it's upside. I don't have to live with my parents, I'm smarter, but I also have a crapload of bills and responsibility and I can't always do what i want anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus it also means that I can't live near all of my friends. although it's impractical and expensive to raise a family in New York, sometimes I wish I was really wealthy so that i could either live there or visit frequently. I like it here too, but a place is only as good as the people you get to enjoy it with. Thinking back to fun, old memories  of college is great, but I want new memories that feature those same faces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to live in a big hippy commune with all of us where Kevin steals everyone's milk, Ann's always asleep or masturbating, Shirl's always cleaning, Pete's always on the computer, Leah is being pessimistic and Sarah is out for a jog. I know that's nonsense but it's a nice little dream to have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyhow, much love and happiness to Shirl and Steve. I'm very sad that you opted out of having Elvis at your wedding like I did but it still looked beautiful. When you guys get tired of the city and want to try life on the better coast, you know where to find me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115501843957668783?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115501843957668783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115501843957668783' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115501843957668783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115501843957668783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/future-is-now.html' title='the future is now'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115467559722431559</id><published>2006-08-04T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T00:13:17.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>who's buying this? Ann? Kevin? Jenny?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.musicspace.com/images/images_extralarge/XL_MS1210.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Lightning Crashes   | Live&lt;br /&gt;  02   Champagne Supernova  | Oasis&lt;br /&gt;  03   If You Could Only See  | Tonic&lt;br /&gt;  04   Glycerine  | Bush&lt;br /&gt;  05   Doll Parts  | Hole&lt;br /&gt;  06   Santeria  | Sublime&lt;br /&gt;  07   Hemorrhage (In My Hands)  | Fuel&lt;br /&gt;  08   A Long December  | Counting Crows&lt;br /&gt;  09   Counting Blue Cars  | Dishwalla&lt;br /&gt;  10   Linger  | Cranberries&lt;br /&gt; 11   Hanging By A Moment  | Lifehouse&lt;br /&gt; 12   Runaway Train  | Soul Asylum&lt;br /&gt; 13   Til I Hear It From You  | Gin Blossoms&lt;br /&gt; 14   Here's To The Night  | Eve 6&lt;br /&gt; 15   What Do I Have To Do?  | Stabbing Westward&lt;br /&gt; 16   Out of My Head  | Fastball&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Disc 2&lt;br /&gt;  01   It's Been Awhile  | Staind&lt;br /&gt;  02   Jumper  | Third Eye Blind&lt;br /&gt;  03   Wasting My Time  | Default&lt;br /&gt;  04   Everything You Want  | Vertical Horizon&lt;br /&gt;  05   Sex And Candy  | Marcy Playground&lt;br /&gt;  06   Far Behind  | Candlebox&lt;br /&gt;  07   The Freshmen  | The Verve Pipe&lt;br /&gt;  08   Take A Picture  | Filter&lt;br /&gt;  09   What It's Like  | Everlast&lt;br /&gt;  10   Something's Always Wrong  | Toad The Wet Sprocket&lt;br /&gt; 11   World I Know  | Collective Soul&lt;br /&gt; 12   Desperately Wanting  | Better Than Ezra&lt;br /&gt; 13   Angry Johnny  | Poe&lt;br /&gt; 14   Save Me  | Remy Zero&lt;br /&gt; 15   Easy  | Faith No More&lt;br /&gt; 16   Smells Like Teen Spirit  | Tori Amos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep seeing commercials for this CD box set. As you can see from the playlist above it's about 95% horrendous. However I can see reason for some of you to buy this. Jenny and Kevin: as you can see "Jumper" is on disc 2. You guys can drunkenly rock out to this song while doing your hand gestures that correlate to the lyrics. Ann: "Can JEW only take my picture" is song 8 on disc 2. Ryan I'm sure there's something on here that would appeal to you as well. So if anyone buys this please report back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115467559722431559?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115467559722431559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115467559722431559' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115467559722431559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115467559722431559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/08/whos-buying-this-ann-kevin-jenny.html' title='who&apos;s buying this? Ann? Kevin? Jenny?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115389766410278416</id><published>2006-07-26T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T23:02:20.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>movin' on up</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a7/Tony_Danza-300x380.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Tony Danza, I'm the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin called tonight (YAY!) and I was telling him about my potential promotion at work.  My area manager comes next week to check up on the store. I know this is a big deal because she is going to see if I can hack it and if I'm worthy of becoming the GM. I would really like to be but it seems a bit scary, i won't lie. I think I'm just about ready for it though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that I really underestimate myself. I think Amanda (my boss) sees more potential in me than I do. That's pretty cool because it really motivates me to work harder and better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so insane to think that I will only be 26 and running a 5 million dollar store. We are in the top 5 of all Calvin Klein stores. I'll have my own business cards. How strange. I'll get to go to the GM meeting in California next year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I just still feel like a dorky kid and that's why it's hard for me to imagine being really successful. I guess I should start reading the Donald Trump collection. I am much better about being a bitch these days. It was a bit of a struggle at first but now it's much easier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, i'm freakin' exhausted and need to get to bed. Just remember: I'm your girl if you ever need some CK jeans at 30% off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115389766410278416?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115389766410278416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115389766410278416' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115389766410278416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115389766410278416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/movin-on-up.html' title='movin&apos; on up'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115351072551449708</id><published>2006-07-21T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T12:38:45.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>beard, waffle, tattoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://thenonist.com/images/uploads/beard.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day jack learns something new. he's always learning new words which is pretty amazing. Today he learned how to say "beard," "waffle," and "tattoo." We are very proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working on "Dolak." So far he's got the "Do" but he can't quite figure out the rest. I will continue to be vigilant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115351072551449708?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115351072551449708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115351072551449708' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115351072551449708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115351072551449708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/beard-waffle-tattoo.html' title='beard, waffle, tattoo'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115347030933862048</id><published>2006-07-21T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T01:25:09.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>staring at the stars</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.astropix.com/IMAGES/C_SPRING/BIGDIP.JPG&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home tonight I noticed that I could see the stars. I really noticed because I've lived so many places where you can't see the stars. After awhile you forget that they even exist. But when I saw them it was so nice. I felt like I was a little kid agian. I remember staring at the night sky and never being able to see any constellations besides the dippers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like looking at the stars because it makes me feel tiny. It reminds me that there is a big huge world out there, and then I think of An American Tale and those mice that sing to each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me sad to think that Jack will see the stars even less. As cities grow and stay bright through the night you can't really see all of the stars. Sometimes I wonder if the cities that I love so much are really ruining the things I take for granted. It's kind of depressing. Sometimes I just want move out to the middle of nowhere and live simply. I think I would get bored thogh. That sounds truly pathetic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115347030933862048?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115347030933862048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115347030933862048' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115347030933862048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115347030933862048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/staring-at-stars.html' title='staring at the stars'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115346893612527307</id><published>2006-07-21T00:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T01:02:16.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Fat Ass, "Get that Twinkie out of your chubby hand." -love, Jesus</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.wdworkshop.com/assets/product_images/eating_disorders_large.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a thing on the news earlier today about Christian-based weight loss programs. All these people kept saying that they replaced their desire for overeating with their desire to live like Jesus, blah, blah, blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is a good thing. It's obviously getting people healthier and that makes God happy and when God is happy the heat wave will go away. It's hot because people are sinful and god is P.O.'d.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115346893612527307?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115346893612527307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115346893612527307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115346893612527307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115346893612527307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/dear-fat-ass-get-that-twinkie-out-of.html' title='Dear Fat Ass, &quot;Get that Twinkie out of your chubby hand.&quot; -love, Jesus'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115328991239518765</id><published>2006-07-18T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T23:18:32.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>M. Night Annoying Voice</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://i.imdb.com/Photos/Ss/0452637/Sht45.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is anyone else as bothered by that obnoxious whispering voice in the trailer for this movie? I know it's supposed to be creepy but it bothers me on a whole different level. It's just unsettling. Not "unsettling" like scary,but more like if I saw that girl on the street I'd punch her in the face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it also bothers me that none of that guy's movies are either good or scary. Even his Amex commercial is annoying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115328991239518765?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115328991239518765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115328991239518765' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115328991239518765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115328991239518765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/m-night-annoying-voice.html' title='M. Night Annoying Voice'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115311213277512349</id><published>2006-07-16T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T21:55:32.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WWYD? (What Would You Do?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.ioffer.com/img/1108972800/_clubs/21/463/am-i-going-crazy-maybe-i-just-need-to-vent-photo.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously for anyone who currently works with people on a daily basis, or has in the past, there is a point at which you just want to flip out on some assholes. The person you might unleash your rage on isn't necessarily doing anything horrific, but they might just ask you the wrong thing at the wrong time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how many years I can hold back before I totally just lose it and tell someone to get fucked? i would like to know how everyone else feels about this. Has there ever been a time where you freaked out on someone at work? did you get in trouble? If you haven't done it yet, why not? Do you think you ever could?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discuss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115311213277512349?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115311213277512349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115311213277512349' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115311213277512349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115311213277512349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/wwyd-what-would-you-do.html' title='WWYD? (What Would You Do?)'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115294364871091047</id><published>2006-07-14T22:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T23:07:28.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Gambling Addictions Begin</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://video.download.com/i/dl/vdl/media/image/44/19/1944_320x240.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Word to yo mutha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Chuck E. Cheese tonight. We actually didn't go because of Jack, we went because a 28 year old coworker of mine is leaving soon and she wanted to have a going away party. I can honestly say I think it had been 15 years since i had been to one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember it being so small and i don't remember it being so loud. It was seriously louder in there than at Ozzfest (not that I've ever been to Ozzfest, but I can only imagine). The anamatronic show is still as creepy and ancient looking as ever.  The food is overpriced and you can get a piece of crap squirt gun for 100 tickets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the kids go nuts for it. They are begging for tokens and lining up at the Skee ball  like crack addicts. The staff is young and unfriendly and there are filthy kids running around and making a mess. I'm now out $35 and probably have TB or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115294364871091047?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115294364871091047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115294364871091047' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115294364871091047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115294364871091047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/where-gambling-addictions-begin.html' title='Where Gambling Addictions Begin'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115294187083426992</id><published>2006-07-14T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T22:37:50.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoffman Gang Bang vs. 10,000 Cocks on Their Faces</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.texasoffroad.net/albums/lonestar/album230/MORONS.sized.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I just say that this whole thing has made me very nostalgic for the good ol' days of the Hoffman Gang Bang. Damn, I miss you guys. We really need to gang up on people more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love the interweb so much. Who could've thought that one simple comment about a deranged Disney program could cause me and the people I love to be threatened by a bunch of barely-legal, hypocrites? It's exhilarating. Hey guys, do you remember when we were 18? I do. I remember things like being highly intelligent, having good taste, not caring about television programming geared toward someone half my age, booze, drugs, bumming smokes, ditching class; all of the things that normal 18 year olds do. By the way, the next time you guys head out to Assrape, you should swing past where these people live and buy them a cup of hot cocoa with a side of hairy eyeball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess for starters I would like to point out that I did check out that other website and I do find it disturbing and, no, I am not the webmaster for it. Or maybe I am and I spend all of my free time writing nasty things about the Doodlebops to lure other fans and then force them to view my website. Damn I'm devious. Here's the thing, if a 40 year old likes the Doodlebops i see the situation this way: She's obviously emotionally and mentally immature and unstable, so her husband cheats on her because she's truly obnoxious to deal with. Husband proceeds to leave her, wife is devastated, starts living vicariously through her children, eventually downward spirals and develops and unhealthy obsession with the Doodlebops. Now her children hate her, she subconsciously hates herself and her life is a sad, empty heap. Her good years are behind her and now she's just a middle-aged weirdo. You guys, on the other hand, should be more concerned with things you can still have fun with while you are young, like shoving 10,000 cocks in your mouths. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would also like to mention that Stephanie found me and decided to attack/annoy me first. If she couldn't take the heat, maybe she should lose her "online privledges." Besides, she seems vulnerable and naive and I would hate to see all of those creepy internet predators get to her, like me and Pete. Didn't you know that we were both featured on Dateline's Internet Predators show. I'm that 50 something rabbi and Pete is that dude that teaches 6th grade and was hoping to meet up with a 12 year old girl to "hang out." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition, why would it be ok for me to seek out and attack the people who run that other website, but not your dear friend Steph? Aren't they both just human beings with feelings too? Why do those people deserve it but Stephanie doesn't? is it because you are friends with Stephanie and you think she is such a sweetie and was just defending the people she admires? Because you know what: there are millions of people that bought Creed albums (Sue) and we all make fun of them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have caused my dear friend Ann some severe trauma and I really believe the only way she will get over it is to see a photo of one of you with 10,000 cocks on your face. So if you could please submit your entries to Pete ASAP we would all be appreciative. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With love and squalor,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Biatch&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115294187083426992?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115294187083426992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115294187083426992' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115294187083426992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115294187083426992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/hoffman-gang-bang-vs-10000-cocks-on.html' title='Hoffman Gang Bang vs. 10,000 Cocks on Their Faces'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115289821580197697</id><published>2006-07-14T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T10:30:15.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Inner Workings of a Tortured Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://myspace-325.vo.llnwd.net/00893/52/39/893819325_m.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's quite disturbing that I have to do this, but I feel that it is imperative to address this frightful situation. So I'm going to break up Steph's comment back to me and try to figure out some things along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Okay,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I did was back up Ryan's statement. That the people who play the Doodlebops are nice and caring. Unlike me, you don't know ANYTHING about how they are outside of the show...so don't act like you do. Seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost, Ryan is actually a good friend of mine and therefore is allowed to say anything he wants to me. He is not some 18 year old who trolls the web looking for every rant and musing about children's tv shows. True, unlike you I don't know ANYTHING about how they are outside of the show; and I would really like to keep it that way. I actually have a job and pressing priorities in my life (not to mention good taste) that would prevent me from wasting hundreds of dollars trekking my ass to Canada to actually meet these people. I don't care if they are the most caring bastards on the planet or if they gang bang each other after each taping, I DON'T LIKE THEIR SHOW!!! I am allowed to have my opinion on this matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;And to judge me just because of my website and age? That's pathetic. You don't know me. I devote my life to the Doodlebops? That's where you are wrong bud....but i DO take pride in any work I do, Doodlebops or not. I've run many other websites in the past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's terrible of me to judge people who I've never met, I know this. But guess what...that's just how it is. My friends and I are pretty much of the like mind that if you like something enough to devote an entire website to it, and it's totally lame, by default you are lame too. Even more, if you can't make fun of yourself I feel sorry for you. As for the other websites you've made, i shudder to imagine their subject matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Why my blog is stuff about me and the doodlebops? because i hardly write in it. maybe you should check out my myspace: www.myspace.com/raspberrykisses I use that wayyyyyy more. You can see I actually have a life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I thank about it, I feel honored that you actually took the time to write a whole blog about me and my site. I'm sure to get way more hits now. Thanks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Steph*&lt;br /&gt;www.deedeerooneymoe.net&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did go to your myspace profile to gander at the other unimaginable horrors I would find there, but it is set to private. I'm sure that the millions of 9 year olds who read my blog have now gone to your site, and maybe some of my friends too (namely the ones who are pedophiles)because I've mentioned your site on my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115289821580197697?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115289821580197697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115289821580197697' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115289821580197697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115289821580197697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/inner-workings-of-tortured-mind.html' title='The Inner Workings of a Tortured Mind'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115286507153010008</id><published>2006-07-14T01:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T01:17:51.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show Me the Fat Fuck Who Would Eat This</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.theimpulsivebuy.com/images/bkquadstacker.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can actually get a burger at BK now with four beef patties, four cheese slices, multiple bacon strips, special sauce and no vegetables. Not only is there not one single thing on this sucker that is even remotely healthy, the website actually brags about the fact that it has no veggies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this burger is a vegan's nightmare. We assessed the situation and realized that we wouldn't even be able to get four meat patties out of our dog. I think this whole burger is the back end of a cow and all the dairy it could produce in a month, slapped between two sesame seed buns. Not to mention an entire pig's worth of bacon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't they just be frank about it and call this thing the Fat Ass, the Damn I'm High Right Now, the Bulemic's Binger, the Navy Wife Delight or the Delicious Heart Attack?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115286507153010008?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115286507153010008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115286507153010008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115286507153010008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115286507153010008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/show-me-fat-fuck-who-would-eat-this.html' title='Show Me the Fat Fuck Who Would Eat This'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115281929814500664</id><published>2006-07-13T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T12:34:58.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Nobody shall speak ill of the Doodlebops"</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.deedeerooneymoe.net/gallery/albums/userpics/10001/b.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was gonna let this slide until I checked out her website (http://www.deedeerooneymoe.net) and if you go to it you will see why I just couldn't not write something here. In case you have no idea what I speak of, just check out the comments left on my Doodlebops post from yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sure that "steph" is a nice person who means well, but it makes me shudder to think that this girl is 18 and she is devoting her life to a creepy Canadian kids show.  Her website is just insane and her blog is just a series of photos of her with the doodlebops. In addition, she must scour the net everyday to find anyone talking smack about the doodlebops and then setting them straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what? I don't care if they are nice people. For starters, they have to be nice. It would ruin their image if they stumbled around town in a drunken stupor flipping people off and screaming obscenitites. Second, I'm not attacking them as people, but you would have to pay me a fortune and give me a lifetime supply of vicodin to be part of that show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, unless you are a candy-kid raver or just think you are being funny or unique, it is unhealthy to obsess about a kid's show when you are 18.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115281929814500664?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115281929814500664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115281929814500664' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115281929814500664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115281929814500664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/nobody-shall-speak-ill-of-doodlebops.html' title='&quot;Nobody shall speak ill of the Doodlebops&quot;'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115272915372345909</id><published>2006-07-12T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T11:32:33.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doodlebops make me want to KILL</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.samsproductions.com/minivanmom74/Blog%20Images/kidshows/Doodlebops.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, how could you let your kids watch this crap??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who have no reason to watch the Disney channel you are probably not familiar with a show that I am convinced is one the signs of the apocalypse. It's called the Doodlebops and it's about a "band" (and i use that term very loosely) of two guys and a girl who look like drag queens from the late 70s on acid. They ride around on thier cracked out tour bus and think about things like "teamwork" and "friendship." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of every episode they put on a concert for an auditorium full of real kids and their parents who actually paid to come see them. The kids scream like pre-teens screaming for *Nsynch while the Doodlebops lip synch and and pretend to play their freakish looking "instruments."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course you are asking yourself: "If this show causes you so much anguish, why would you watch it?" Because Higgly Town Heroes comes on right after and Jack and I love that show so we just tough it out for 20 minutes of hell. I know it makes no sense, but that's how we do it in my house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115272915372345909?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115272915372345909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115272915372345909' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115272915372345909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115272915372345909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/doodlebops-make-me-want-to-kill.html' title='Doodlebops make me want to KILL'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115217338832619129</id><published>2006-07-06T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T01:09:48.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Roomies!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.mediabistro.com/unbeige/original/roommates%20notes.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very excited because our tiny family is going to have another member. And before you all crap yourselves thinking that i'm preggers...I'm NOT!! We are getting a roommate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our friend Chris, who is on the ship that Collin was on, is coming back here in about a month, after fornicating with whores in foreign ports for the last 5 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked to him the other day and he mentioned that he wanted to get a house when he gets here and needs to look around. I sort of threw it in there that we were going to be renting a house and that it would be really fun to live with him. Surprisingly, he agreed. He is obviously either crazy or a saint for volunteering to live with a toddler that did not come from his own loins. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus it will be nice to split the rent with someone and Jack will have another buddy to play with. And Collin and I will have some respite from our boring lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird though because I haven't had a roommate since my senior year of college. I think it will work out fine though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, chris informed me that you can have sex with a Thai whore for the equivalent of $28.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115217338832619129?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115217338832619129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115217338832619129' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115217338832619129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115217338832619129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/roomies.html' title='Roomies!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115217263038666629</id><published>2006-07-05T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T00:57:10.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry Ann, Mine's Better</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www3.sympatico.ca/terrir/images/artnouveau.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these are my cards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Collin bought me a deck of tarot cards the other day and then I got a book on how to do readings and whatnot. I read through the book a bit but considering there are 78 cards and a lot of history behind them, I couldn't memorize the whole thing. When I went to our friends' house last night I brought the cards and the book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a few spreads (get your mind out of the gutter!) and it really helped me get more comfortable with the cards and their meanings. I still need a lot of practice before I can get comfortable enough to dress like a gypsy and start charging people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like Ann when she did my "reading" in vegas. I kept having to flip back and forth in the book to figure everything out and some of it just seemed weird. Certain things didn't seem to make sense but it was interesting and fun nonetheless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was so much fun conjuring the devil!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115217263038666629?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115217263038666629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115217263038666629' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115217263038666629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115217263038666629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/sorry-ann-mines-better.html' title='Sorry Ann, Mine&apos;s Better'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115208205381366593</id><published>2006-07-04T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-04T23:47:33.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>KABOOM!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.carrmichael.com/id/kaboom.gif&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 4th! I hope everyone had a good one. We went to a friend's house just a couple blocks away and ate and drank and played Taboo. I actually had to get my team to say "sperm whale." They got the "whale" part easily but then all I could think to say for "sperm" was "It comes out of a penis." What a weird thing to get someone to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went outside because my friends' had bought fireworks. One of the ones that are supposed to go really high before it explodes, only went about 10 feet up and then went off. It blew up right in front of us. I almost had a heart attack but jack didn't even cry. I am not a big fan of fireworks when they are up close. I never have been. Luckily  everything was fine and now I'm just wasting time when I should be sleeping. Damn, I'm going to be tired at work tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115208205381366593?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115208205381366593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115208205381366593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115208205381366593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115208205381366593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/kaboom.html' title='KABOOM!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115199607197785270</id><published>2006-07-03T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T23:54:32.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>who are the ad wizards that came up with this one?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.cvcoffee.com/prod_images_blowup/Crystal-Light-Fruit-Punch-M.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm just sitting here, watching the tv when I see a crystal light commercial that I've seen a few times before. I guess I've never paid much attention to it before because I failed to notice that this one woman says that drinking Crystal Light makes her want to buy pretty underwear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? Not only does this sound stupid, it also sounds completely false. So why even say it? Is there anyone who would watch this and actually agree? Couldn't she just say that she likes to drink it because she thinks it tastes good?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115199607197785270?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115199607197785270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115199607197785270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115199607197785270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115199607197785270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/07/who-are-ad-wizards-that-came-up-with.html' title='who are the ad wizards that came up with this one?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115165315641681151</id><published>2006-06-30T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T00:39:16.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Death by the Dashboard Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.tnl-ink.com/images/memory%20cross.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something has been bothering me for months now, possibly even years. Just about once a day I see a car with some sort of tribute to someone who is dead. I seriously do not understand the thinking behind this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's say your BFF dies. Do you really want to be reminded of that everytime you have to hop in your car to run to the video store or to get groceries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you lost a very close family member, do you really need some cheesy decal on your car to remind you that that person died? i doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only time I would find this an acceptable practice would be if said person died from being hit by a drunk driver. I say this because if it explicitly made mention to the fact that "John was senselessly killed by a drunk driver" it might actually cause people to think twice before drinking and driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do you eventually take this off of your car? do you ever get to a point and think that you don't really want to look at that anymore and have to scrape that sucker off? Or do you feel too guilty to take it off even though you really want to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that if I drown or die in a freak horseback riding accident, I sincerely hope that no one puts some dumb ass memorial on the back of their car with my name on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115165315641681151?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115165315641681151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115165315641681151' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115165315641681151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115165315641681151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/death-by-dashboard-light.html' title='Death by the Dashboard Light'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115103847520940128</id><published>2006-06-22T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T21:54:35.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>is this for real?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.aeclectic.net/tarot/cards/_img/hello-01760.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend we went to the Strawberry Festival in my town, which is the highlight of the summer. For anyone who is unaware, i live in a tiny town. There were some vendor booths and one of them had two women who were doing tarot card readings. I have never had a real one before. The one that Ann did for me in Vegas doesn't count. It was kind of half-assed. Sorry Ann, I loved everything else in Happy Fun Bag, though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady was nice and she touched on some very interesting things. She said that in 6 to 8 months there would be a big change with my job. This is kind of interesting because this is exactly when i should be getting my promotion. She said that I am better at my job than I think I am but that it doesn't make my soul happy. She said that I should be doing something with plants or flowers and/or education. She said that I am a nurturer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was very interesting. I don't think it really reveals anything magical, i just think it shows you what you know in your heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115103847520940128?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115103847520940128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115103847520940128' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115103847520940128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115103847520940128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/is-this-for-real.html' title='is this for real?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115103746047835206</id><published>2006-06-22T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T21:37:40.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Agita, or is it Ah-gita?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.ashido.com/luigiscans/paranoid.JPG&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a serious problem. I am totally shitty to myself. I am my worst critic in the worst way. I know that most people can be really hard on themselves but I endup overanalylizing everything and then i get paranoid and then i get anxiety. I am so tired of doing this to myself. I think being in the world of retail has a lot to do with it. It is very cut-throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Collin always reminds me that if i sucked so bad I would've been fired with German and I wouldn't have got the kick-ass raise that I got. I just really get frustrated there a  lot of the time and then I get stressed and end up working harder than i should. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blargh, i know it's really stupid and i should just work past it or let it go but I don't know how. Maybe I'll ask Jebus for help. Nah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115103746047835206?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115103746047835206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115103746047835206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115103746047835206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115103746047835206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/agita-or-is-it-ah-gita.html' title='Agita, or is it Ah-gita?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115069665202460848</id><published>2006-06-18T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T22:57:32.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>papa's day</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://myspace-215.vo.llnwd.net/00797/51/26/797536215_m.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hope that everyone had a nice father's day. I did. We went to the Strawberry Festival and had a nice breakfast at this country diner that's up the road. Collin made a good dinner and then i went to a meeting for work. all in all, nice and relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is incredibly corny but i feel that it should be said: collin is the greatest dad in the history of dads. I know this because i've had two dads and I've had issues with both of them. I have also known a lot of people with crappy fathers, Collin included. The only reason that he ended up with his father is because his dad was ordered by the court to raise him, although he didn't want to. Collin is a true testament to the fact that you don't have to repeat the bad crap that your parents do/did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, he's probably a better father than I am a mother. If fatherhood was something you could get paid for, he'd be a millionaire by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, i'll stop now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115069665202460848?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115069665202460848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115069665202460848' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115069665202460848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115069665202460848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/papas-day.html' title='papa&apos;s day'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-115052284691130241</id><published>2006-06-16T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T22:40:46.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pobrecita Britney</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://msnbcmedia.msn.com/j/msnbc/Components/Photos/060611/060611_spearslauer_vmed_10p.widec.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched the Britney Spears interview last night and I would like to put in my two cents. First and foremost, for those of you who don't know, Britney is my one true guilty pleasure. Am I a genuine fan? No. Do I own her greatest hits album? Yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She talked about how she really doesn't care about how people perceive her when she's out and about. This is painfully obvious when you consider that most photos of her show her with a grown out weave and her thong sticking out the back of her ultra low rise jeans. However, it takes guts to be in the public eye like that and not primp and polish every inch of yourself before you step out of the house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Britney's whole alleged purpose of the interview was to get the paparazzi to stop hounding her and how she feels scared for her and her family's safety. I won't even comment on whether or not I think she's being genuine, but I will say that I would be terrified if people were coming after me while I had Jack. I think that if someone was tailing my car and I had Jack inside I'd pull some vigilante justice and start a massacre. I don't think that this gives her free reign to drive home with her kid on her lap. She shrugs it off to being "country" which I guess is the equivalent to saying that you are functionally retarded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of feel bad for her in a way. Sure, she has a nicer house than I can ever dream of and she can do anything she wants, whenever she wants, but she seems tragically naive. She seemed to truly be unaware of the fact people have a deep disdain for KFed. She was chomping gum the whole time and she went on national TV looking like she hadn't brushed her hair in a week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope that her next album is a good one and that she get back to Ye Olde Brit and not the pre-Delta Burke, twangy, gum-chomping embarassment that she is now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-115052284691130241?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/115052284691130241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=115052284691130241' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115052284691130241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/115052284691130241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/pobrecita-britney.html' title='Pobrecita Britney'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114983719400102588</id><published>2006-06-09T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T00:13:14.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My legal herbs</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.gmushrooms.com/Posters/herbs.JPG&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my days off this week I spent about $100 on herbs and pots, soil and gloves. I have decided to grow my own stuff now, because I am feeling in the mood to garden. Plus I love the way that it smells. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought sweet basil, thai basil, oregano, rosemary, lemon verbeena, kung pao chilies, jalepeno peppers, a tomato plant and i think there's something else that I'm just too tired to remember right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can wait until they start to grow huge. I can never do the flowers. I've tried but then i forget about them. But when I'm growing something that i can eat, then you bet i will remember to water those suckers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114983719400102588?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114983719400102588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114983719400102588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114983719400102588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114983719400102588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/my-legal-herbs.html' title='My legal herbs'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114940533852944533</id><published>2006-06-03T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T00:15:38.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>illin' like a villin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a175/BurgundyBurb/Diahrrea.png&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack, Collin and I have been sick lately. Jack got the illness 3 days ago, Collin got it two days ago and I got it yesterday. Luckily the sickness only last about 24 hours. It's a totally heinous stomach flu and let's just say that if you don't purposefully vomit it will come out another hole. I, unfortunately, absolutely refuse to make myself puke. I'm a bulemic's worst nightmare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a fever and I was having crazy nightmares and I seriously wanted to die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am glad that I am almost over this illness. The worst part is that everyone at my work is getting it now too. This thing is so contagious I feel like I'm conducting a science experiment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that if the bird flu hits I will be dead within 48 hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114940533852944533?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114940533852944533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114940533852944533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114940533852944533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114940533852944533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/illin-like-villin.html' title='illin&apos; like a villin&apos;'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114921972030396185</id><published>2006-06-01T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T20:42:00.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Religious PapSmear</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.kidsinneedofprayer.com/Jesus_and_the_doctor__smaller.jpg&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my earlier post I mentioned how I went to the doc today. It was the first time there so I had to fill out that sheet that tells about family history of medical conditions and whatnot. Everything was going along like usual until i got to the bottom of the page. Then I had to do a "WTF?!?" There were four questions at the bottom, and here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe in God?&lt;br /&gt;Do you pray?&lt;br /&gt;Do you have questions about your faith?&lt;br /&gt;What faith are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this pertain to medicine???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how can I explain my feelings about God and faith on a two inch line?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got paranoid and started looking around to see if there were crosses on the walls or anything. Everything looked normal so I don't know what it was all about. But it freaked the hell out of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114921972030396185?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114921972030396185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114921972030396185' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114921972030396185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114921972030396185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/religious-papsmear.html' title='Religious PapSmear'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114921814538125372</id><published>2006-06-01T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T20:15:45.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>American Medical Dilemma</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.infologixsys.com/pictures/products/pharma_sales_rep.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the doctor today (nothing serious, just a "lady" visit) and I was very disturbed. As I was walking in I noticed a pharma rep walking in right behind me. It made me a bit perturbed but then I just shrugged my shoulders and went inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when I went in I noticed another pharma rep walking out. At the end of my appointment I saw two more in there, one in the waiting room and another coming out of the back. Then as I was walking to my car, two more dudes were getting out of their car in going inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm not gonna get all Tom Cruisey and say that I think there is no place for Rx drugs. But I don't think they should be handed out like candy either. I have a friend from Canada who told me that they try everything else first before pills. Probably because everyone has healthcare up there and private docs don't stand to profit as much from it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really creeped out. And I was pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few days ago I called my insurance to find out I could go to a naturopath instead of a regular doc. They won't cover it. So I called the naturopath that I wanted to go to and they said that one visit would cost $230. I certainly can't afford that. It pains me to pay the $20 copay at the regular doc. Aetna said it doesn't consider a naturopath a "real doctor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114921814538125372?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114921814538125372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114921814538125372' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114921814538125372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114921814538125372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/06/american-medical-dilemma.html' title='American Medical Dilemma'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114863031712732929</id><published>2006-05-26T00:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T00:58:37.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feliz Cumpleanos Senor Dolak!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.macktrucks.com/assets/mack/SpanishProducts/sp_ecard04.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a small tribute to my friend Kevin. (No, not that one...the other one. I know too many damn Kevins).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You are my favorite Kevin.&lt;br /&gt;2. You are a heinous bitch before you get in that first cup of coffee in the morning (but I feel your pain).&lt;br /&gt;3. You can always make me laugh until I pee myself a little.&lt;br /&gt;4. We've participated in many illegal/immoral activities together.&lt;br /&gt;5. We drove to Vegas and back without killing each other.&lt;br /&gt;6. Floating Priest Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have a wonderful birthday!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114863031712732929?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114863031712732929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114863031712732929' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114863031712732929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114863031712732929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/05/feliz-cumpleanos-senor-dolak.html' title='Feliz Cumpleanos Senor Dolak!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114823200388435283</id><published>2006-05-21T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T10:20:03.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Could it be?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.emerchandise.com/images/p/SNL/pdDLSNL0001.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched SNL with Kevin Spacey last night and I was shocked. I was actually laughing. This is something that hasn't happened in quite some time. Well, Weekend Update is always good, but there were quite a lot of good skits last night. The "I'm Carol" one was hilarious and I loved the spoof on the Usual Suspects. Hopefully this means that the end of crappy, unfunny SNL is over and a newer, more amusing SNL is back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114823200388435283?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114823200388435283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114823200388435283' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114823200388435283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114823200388435283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/05/could-it-be.html' title='Could it be?'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114775932204761282</id><published>2006-05-15T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T23:02:02.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Boss EVER!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.imgag.com/product/full/ap/3027110/bosstextcp.gif&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you all know my other boss was canned and now I have a new boss. She is so super fantastic. We look fairly similar but she's about 5 years older than me. She has a ton of experience with fixing messed up stores like ours. Already the store is a lot better and it's nicer to work there. I am no longer working 50-60 hour weeks. Things are finally working properly. It's amazing. I no longer dread going to work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most hilarious part is that she has a theater group that does shows at Renaissance Festivals and she plays a pirate captain. Her group is actually getting to go to the premiere of Pirates of the Carribean all decked out in their gear. I know it sounds kinds nerdy but she handmakes all of her costumes and all of their weapons are totally authentic and battle-ready. And she gets to see Johnny Depp, and not much is better than that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114775932204761282?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114775932204761282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114775932204761282' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114775932204761282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114775932204761282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/05/best-boss-ever.html' title='Best Boss EVER!'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114775817210407726</id><published>2006-05-15T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T22:42:52.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamster Crisis Averted</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://www.kico.at/kinderseiten/2005/philip/hamster.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I noticed that my hamster (Baron Von Hamster) was acting kinda weird. A bit lethargic and he was haing trouble walking and he was even lying on his back for a bit. It seemed a bit strange. When I went over to look I noticed that his eyes were closed and he was all sunken in at the waist. He looked like a furry Nicole Richie. Then I realized that his little water dispenser wasn't working properly. So I had to give him water by hand. And then hhe started to look better. I felt so horrible. I was heartbroken. If I would've noticed sooner I would've fixed it. I feel like a hamster abuser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114775817210407726?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114775817210407726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114775817210407726' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114775817210407726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114775817210407726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/05/hamster-crisis-averted.html' title='Hamster Crisis Averted'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114646458704017270</id><published>2006-04-30T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T23:23:07.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gay Husband Syndrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://images.amazon.com/images/P/1580910890.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past 2 days I have encountered 2 couples where the husband is gay. Here's how the situation went down with both couples:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman was trying a crap load of stuff on and had to get her husband's opinion on every single item. And not just, "Does this make me look fat?" or "Should I get a smaller size?" or "Do these 2 colors look ok together?" It was much more in depth. These guys were simply over the top. They were breaking it down like it was fashion week and they were on assignment for Lucky Magazine. This one guy even spent about seven minutes debating over which necklace went better with the earrings that his wife was buying. It was painful to witness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So badly I just wanted to say, "Honey, your husband is a homo and you are so insecure that I need therapy just from standing near you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want a gay man's opinion, bring a gay friend with you to go shopping. But don't marry a gay guy just so you'll always have a good shopping buddy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114646458704017270?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114646458704017270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114646458704017270' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114646458704017270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114646458704017270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/04/gay-husband-syndrome.html' title='Gay Husband Syndrome'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11496790.post-114629086822398644</id><published>2006-04-28T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T23:15:33.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm dying a slow death.</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src=http://mfrost.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/136169488_2ca0ea8601.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://mfrost.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/66643027_7d9060dbc2.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://mfrost.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/lili_seattleroll_flickr.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You simply must waste an hour on this site. It's called &lt;A HREF="www.cuteoverload.com"&gt;Cute Overload&lt;/a&gt;. It really lives up to its name. I just died. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update: the damn link isn't working so just go to www.cuteoverload.com.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11496790-114629086822398644?l=campcreepy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/feeds/114629086822398644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11496790&amp;postID=114629086822398644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114629086822398644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11496790/posts/default/114629086822398644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://campcreepy.blogspot.com/2006/04/im-dying-slow-death.html' title='I&apos;m dying a slow death.'/><author><name>Erika</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_63PcCY6KQdI/SkuDzyW7laI/AAAAAAAAABE/skyutIL5cFQ/S220/n501625129_1891756_725.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
