tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14725394125776399062024-02-19T02:20:20.402-08:00Grow up Peter Pan!Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-54670254980924071482012-06-27T02:34:00.000-07:002012-06-27T02:34:29.598-07:00I am what I am...an abuser of "Facebook"I have been a Facebook user since 2005...7 years. For me, this social network started out with nothing but ONE "profile picture", an "about me section" which in my case has shared nothing other than, "I'm kind of a big deal",thank you Will Ferrell, a few interests, political views, where I went to high school, and last but not least, where I was currently attending college. You see, when I first became a user of this website it was still called "TheFacebook" and you needed an e-mail address that ended in ".edu". Those were much simpler times. As most of us know, Facebook is now used as a marketing device, a marketplace, a dating website, an instant messaging tool, a party planner, a source of news and current events, an online gaming arena...oh, and one more thing, a way for friends, co-workers, relatives and more importantly parents to stalk you. Remember when it was funny when one of your family members joined the site? Remember when it was still a little bit funny when one of your parents "friend requested" you? Remember when it got significantly less funny when both of your parents and your grandparents were users? Remember when it got unfunny? I do. It was the first time my family members got a good look at my life outside of holiday gatherings/birthday parties. It was when I first felt the need to defend my reputation to those outside of my close group of friends.<br />
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Now hear me out. There are 2 sides to every story. At this point you could be thinking...well, Dani, one could say if you have a problem with texts from your mom saying "please take down those pictures their inappropriate and embarrassing me" you should just delete your page, or block those who care, but here's the thing, as childish and as immature as it may sound. <br />
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I WAS THERE FIRST<br />
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As a friend of mine on Facebook, view at your own discretion. My choices are my own. Judge me at your own risk. The worst I have done is out in the open. I am what I am...just another abuser of Facebook.Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-1395476441654093312012-05-17T02:54:00.000-07:002012-05-17T02:54:02.236-07:00Cutting the CordAfter a fairly long hiatus from blogging, I am happy to say I'm back at it. I am living in Las Vegas now. Didn't see that coming, huh? I guess we can answer the question from one of my first posts. <br />
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Q:If he runs? <br />
A: I follow...happily...skipping behind him, and smiling. A real smile too...like one you get when someone buys you cotton candy and you weren't expecting it.<br />
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I moved westward to Nevada at the end of January after finishing school at <strike>stupid</strike>, <strike>lame,</strike> lovely, Millersville University, and so far things have been going well, other than the fact that I have yet to find a professional job. 53 Resumes faxed/e-mailed later and I am no closer to my career path. I can't say I'm surprised by this. I moved to Las Vegas. "Education and government work have the nation's capital on top, while sunbelt tourism meccas like Miami and <strong>Las</strong> <strong>Vegas</strong> suffer most." Oh, thanks Forbes.com. Tell me something I don't know!<br />
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Other than the fact that I am on the opposite side of the country, the biggest difference I've noticed living here is my parents aren't around to do everything for me. Obtaining residency and registering my vehicle is something I would have absolutely delegated to my mom or dad if they weren't 2,000 plus miles away. Not because I think myself too important to be bothered with things of that nature, but because I don't know where to begin. I've never had to do anything like it because they always took care of it before it was even a thought in my mind. Alright I just read the last few sentences and I sound like a spoiled brat, but listen guys, I'm doing it all on my own now! I'm growing up. I'm becoming an adult. One car registry at a time. <br />
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I've almost completely cut the cord. It's scary.<br />
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Moving on...Living with Mike is hella cool. "Hella" is an adjective us west coast folk use to emphasize the awesomeness of everything that exists from Kansas to California. At least that's what I've been told. I'm still learning the lingo. I actually don't belong here at all. Other than the relaxed nature of it's inhabitants I share nothing in common with most people I've met. Example A: I've developed a couple nicknames so far..."Wide Open Spaces"(inappropriate),and "white girl"(not in PA anymore, Toto). The fact that I grew up on the east coast happens to be a huge barrier in getting to know me. To my friends in Lancaster, if you thought we were sheltered you've got to meet some of the LV locals. Most of them have never been anywhere but California, and apparently Colorado is far east. They don't understand how bars can close at 2, or how they are still standing if they were established in the 1700's. If I'm making it seem like these people are unintelligent that's not my intention. There is just a big difference in how we are raised. <br />
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Also, very important side note...there has been many times where my sarcasm I'm sure has been mistaken for stupidity. I'm trying to ease back a bit, but I don't want to lose my wit!<br />
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So far, this move has been an adventure and an experience, but nothing more. I haven't found a new me or a place to call home. I can tell you with certainty I could never establish a life here, not with everything I want to accomplish. Also, Las Vegas has been ruined as a vacation spot. Oh well, at least I'm learning to live on my own. Right?<br />
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<br />Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-38418600990344062372011-11-06T16:43:00.000-08:002011-11-06T16:43:49.751-08:00big ship, small ship, friendshipIn elementary school, your best friends are those that watch the same television shows, share your love of a particular kind of cookie, and live within 2 miles of you. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In middle school, your best friends are those that still like you even with a face full of pimples, play on the same sports team, and have only gone as far as you have with a boy(or girl).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In high school, your best friends are those that help you gain popularity, shop at the same clothing stores, and have abused the same illegal substances.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In the rarest cases you find a best friend "forever" one that stays with you through childhood and beyond, that watches the same shows, shares your love for a particular food, grows up next you, sees the beauty beneath your blemishes, plays your favorite sport with you even if they are terrible at it, tells you their sexcapades, introduces you to new, exciting, people, opens their wardrobe to you, and puts out your blunt so you can throw back a lager with them. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In the unthinkable cases, you find more than one. I am an unthinkable case.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When I moved back to Lancaster after living in West Chester for 4 years, I thought I was doomed to ride solo. I figured since I had not kept in touch with many people from home that no one would take the bait when I cast out the "Hey! I'm home, let's get together." text. I could imagine my friends rolling their eyes and placing their phones back into their pockets and bags after they read it.</div><br />
I was too quick to judge. I underestimated the strength of the bonds I had created over the years.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">People always tell you the friends you meet in college will become your best friends, and yes I made a few great friends there, but only 2 that I know I'll remain in touch with. </div><br />
My greatest friends are the ones I've grown up with.<br />
So, since I don't tell these people enough how much they mean to me, I'll blog about it, and tell my few readers how wonderful they are. (I'm almost positive these 4 are my only readers.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsBEEe_rw_h_YxF_nT0ZNbVnXGTxCO1H47sHdB_upN4xfTedmJkFtsb0Co5MFXsEF3FIs4qIA8GEEYrNPZyUQtGJnVUKSvsizWnlg4fvRcr7BMq5MwrJt_L0bU775IqhmiAxI8p9lhlY/s1600/198394_717979117248_31706586_38739001_3220018_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfsBEEe_rw_h_YxF_nT0ZNbVnXGTxCO1H47sHdB_upN4xfTedmJkFtsb0Co5MFXsEF3FIs4qIA8GEEYrNPZyUQtGJnVUKSvsizWnlg4fvRcr7BMq5MwrJt_L0bU775IqhmiAxI8p9lhlY/s200/198394_717979117248_31706586_38739001_3220018_n.jpg" width="150px" /></a></div>Holland-My sister. We moved in together after dreaming about it since 2nd grade. She's the person who knows more about me than anyone, including my sister and parents. I go to her when I have a pimple on my back, not because I want her to pop it, but because I know she wants to. Her family is my family. She's the first person I call with good news, and not so good news, and even though we share many differences, the commonalities between us are the things that make a friendship work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYQTxp-S3F5SSbAWeiBHDFv3p6MtRmpnHJD4I7YdhxFrbrqh09YbCronISEiB59NhV8TLk3ul_Buvur1wDMMGCaAkd7x_kQ9Ou_YiJnmVP6jVDgwCxf4zGSrxAMV9r-bVhrfEp-VfKmk/s1600/n31706586_32398163_4550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYQTxp-S3F5SSbAWeiBHDFv3p6MtRmpnHJD4I7YdhxFrbrqh09YbCronISEiB59NhV8TLk3ul_Buvur1wDMMGCaAkd7x_kQ9Ou_YiJnmVP6jVDgwCxf4zGSrxAMV9r-bVhrfEp-VfKmk/s200/n31706586_32398163_4550.jpg" width="200px" /></a>Allison-My partner in crime. My tit for tat. The friend I look up to and aspire to be more like. She's the girl that taught me how to be myself. She always pushes me to do things the hard way. I've laughed harder and more times with her than anyone. With Allison, what you see is what you get. She's honest, selfless and wonderful. The best stories I have to tell all involve things that happend when we were together.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtvZtTl4mPQnfH778RoNh_SrWo5-gWdLMqrJUn6Q90zpwxu2Q6HLkvYB0ajI19VcpvRrKgQ0dFqFeEq-w695kXsQshbCfOaYbpewTdcj0zYSL8wOjsx_psa8zewp1TZ2fk0a0sP5Fc6I/s1600/207173_10150231401492433_661917432_8510142_6499249_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtvZtTl4mPQnfH778RoNh_SrWo5-gWdLMqrJUn6Q90zpwxu2Q6HLkvYB0ajI19VcpvRrKgQ0dFqFeEq-w695kXsQshbCfOaYbpewTdcj0zYSL8wOjsx_psa8zewp1TZ2fk0a0sP5Fc6I/s200/207173_10150231401492433_661917432_8510142_6499249_n.jpg" width="149px" /></a>Eli-My little brother. Most people look to him for entertainment, but I look to him for good advice and someone to pick me up on dark days. When I'm with Eli, I know it's going to be an adventure. He makes everything fun, and everyone around him smile. He's the first person I call to relax with, and the first person I call when I'm ready to rage.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvLMN13oK8W_ISB3N_A9u0ZiJ8yJwzl15wTmf1K5xpiU5RF84k7G3JA87CB06bthoWHPAI2_AobRQy6rdP3sOVefeI6ZXaijq4260J4T-bgDuQKRrli5ANcTnkzrOl9Po83wxzngpoBI/s1600/189900_717957690188_31706586_38738614_4412926_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvLMN13oK8W_ISB3N_A9u0ZiJ8yJwzl15wTmf1K5xpiU5RF84k7G3JA87CB06bthoWHPAI2_AobRQy6rdP3sOVefeI6ZXaijq4260J4T-bgDuQKRrli5ANcTnkzrOl9Po83wxzngpoBI/s200/189900_717957690188_31706586_38738614_4412926_n.jpg" width="130px" /></a>Zac-My gingy. He's the friend who helped me find self-worth. He sings my praises to everyone he meets. He's the guy that's already on my doorstep before I call to tell him I need him. He's quick to forgive and even quicker to say I'm sorry. He reads me like and book and knows what I need before I do. He's a great listener, and shows no judgement.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Ok, so for most this is vomit inducing material. I know I gagged a few times through it. But, get over it! I love my friends and I don't care who knows it. I'll shout it from the top of a mountain.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Next post will be funny, ok?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"There are big ships, and there are small ships, and the best ships of all...friendships."</div>Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-16746261163511392132011-10-30T18:29:00.000-07:002011-10-30T18:29:00.203-07:00inglorious featherobscure and unreadable<br />
forceful and unnatural <br />
words<br />
empty and unrequited<br />
simple and dishonest<br />
thoughts<br />
mangled, untamed<br />
<br />
floating upon the tails of thick-billed ravens<br />
eating away at the flesh of a salamander<br />
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keep your artifical colors hidden under that pile of wet leaves<br />
and your jealous cravings to be placed on wings of white doves masked<br />
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I don't believe youDani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-74726137270617721982011-10-30T17:48:00.000-07:002011-10-30T17:48:23.150-07:00whatever makes you sleep at nightLet me preface this entry with, no one is perfect, and we all tell lies.<br />
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Over the past several weeks, I have become especially aware of the amount of secrets I keep; Secrets that could ruin peoples lives, turn friends against eachother, and reveal dishonesty among the most envied relationships. The guilt of withholding information I'd most certainly want to know about is beginning to weigh heavily on my shoulders. <br />
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Although I would never tell a soul, because I'm entrusted to keep the truth hidden from those it may hurt; I can't help but wonder whether or not these "friends" that ask me to keep quiet deserve my loyalty? And, does it make me more genuine of a person if I tell the truth, or keep my reputaion as someone to depend on? Either way, someone gets burned.<br />
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So, "friends", if venting to me helps you get your 8 hours, by all means, tell me your deepest, darkest secrets. Just know, I've had some pretty restless nights.Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-48722352140575812612011-08-22T22:32:00.000-07:002011-08-22T22:32:11.483-07:00I think I'm going to make myself throw up. I'm going to make myself throw up.We stumble out of the cab, and make our way to the entrance of the Luxor. As soon as the doors open I know where this night is going to take me...the bathroom floor...potentially naked. We get in line for the club. Eli and I argue back and forth about whether or not we should get in the shorter line where are names are most definitely not on the list. I win. To the back of the long line we go. There are about 50 people in front of us, but it's moving quickly. We make it to the front of the line, get our hands stamped and pay an absurd amount of money just for admittance into this place. Holland and I are ahead of the boys and make our way through the maze of deep red lights only knowing where to go by following the sound of the bass coming from the DJ booth. The light at the end of the tunnel fast approaches. I'm at the top of a huge staircase. All my body let's me do is drop my jaw. After a few seconds I look over at Holland and we both smile at each other...very mischievously. <br />
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Lights are flashing, the music is blaring, there are people everywhere. We about to pop bottles.<br />
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I walk down the stairs expecting Prince Charming to meet me at the bottom. He's not there, but the bar is, and let's be honest, I'd rather have the beer.<br />
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MILLER LITE IS 8 FUCKING DOLLARS! If my goal wasn't to get blacked out tonight, this would be my only drink.<br />
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I take my liquid gold to the dance floor where the rest of my friends have already made a home. We are busting moves, drinking heavily and enjoying every minute of our time here.<br />
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I go up to the bar for my next drink. I order in a British accent. I can tell the bartender finds me much more attractive now. Holland comes up behind me holding her heels with a pitiful look on her face. It's obvious that she did not wear her dancing shoes. I order her another drink and the bouncer tells her to put her shoes back on. I'm hoping that the alcohol subdues her pain because the night is young and I am far from calling it quits.<br />
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We make our way back to our spot, but the boys are no where to be found. NBD. We don't need them to have a good time. I continue to make a fool of myself and have lost count of the amount of drinks I've consumed.<br />
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I make yet another trip to the bar. This time I stumble. I stumble into a 6"7, skinny, black, hipster and grab onto his arm. I try to make it look like it wasn't an accident by saying "Excuse me, Mr. Bicep", in my sexiest voice possible. He appreciates the effort and makes room for me to hold myself up on the counter. After I get my drink I wave him and his other skinny, tall, hipster, black friend to join me and my tiny, blonde, sexy, white friend on the dance floor. They listen obediently. We start yelling questions back and forth over the music. "Are you guys on spring break? Where are you staying? Have you been here before? Where are you from?" We stop at "where are you from?" because we all say, "Pennsylvania." We come to realize that both of them go to school at Millersville University, which is right next to where Holland and I went to high school, and where I just transferred to. What are the odds that we run into people that live in Millersville in Vegas, and not where we live. Ridiculous. (side note: my first day back in school after break I see one of the guys in class. He shakes his head and smiles at me. We never speak of what happened in Vegas).<br />
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When the fist pumping starts things start to get blurry. I remember looking at the ground a lot, and Holland pulling down my dress more than a lot. Holland thinks we should locate Eli, Zac, and Mr. Magnificent. At this point I'm not even sure if they are still in the club, nor do I care. Holland points up to one of the second floor balconies. Low and behold there is Zac. Alone. Staring at us. We laugh and figure Eli and Mr. Magnificent are around there with him somewhere. I black out.<br />
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When I black back in we are being asked to go up to the VIP lounge. When I sit down I immediatley get the spins. I tell Holland, and she takes me through a dark hallway to a bathroom. I pee, luckily in the toilet, and when I stand up to wash my hands I feel like I'm looking in a fun house mirror. I can barley stand up and when I walk back into no-man's land I'm completley lost. I'm about to give up and make myself comfortable on the floor when Holland scoops me up and starts walking me toward the exit.<br />
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I don't know when or why I decided to look at my phone, but there's a message from Zac that reads, "help x". I show Holland and she tries to grab my phone away from me. I'm angry that she thinks I can't handle the situation so I snap my arm back and start texting Eli. Clearly I can't handle it because Eli doesn't have his phone. <br />
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From this point on I can only remember bits and pieces...exiting club, Holland yelling at Eli, Zac unable to stand, laughing uncontrollably, laying down in the cab, Zac telling Holland that Darryl(Holland's boyfriend) likes it when he touches her, getting to the door to our room, being locked out, Zac leaning up against me whispering what I think were words, laying in bed with Holland, telling Holland that I needed to throw up and that I was going to make myself throw up, vomiting, laying on the bathroom floor with no pants on, vomiting, and crawling into bed.<br />
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PS: The "x" Zac texted me was because the bouncers kicked him out and put a black x over his stamp in permanent marker.<br />
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PSS: The reason Zac got kicked out was because he was standing in someones VIP lounge uninvited(note Holland and I seeing him on the balcony).<br />
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PSSS: Zac slept in the clothes he was wearing that night. <br />
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PSSSS: My text to Eli read "Zac x".<br />
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PSSSSSSS: Eli and Mr. Magnificent walked about 3 miles back to our hotel room at dawn.<br />
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Vegas-1 Lancaster-0Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-42676544943498133902011-08-04T14:32:00.000-07:002011-08-04T14:32:07.691-07:00crazy, stupid, stupid, love Damn these summer blockbusters making me over-think...<br />
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I can't speak for men, but I think I can speak for most women when I say that we grow up longing for someone to love us unconditionally. At a young age we are introduced to Barbie and Ken, princes and princess in our bedtime stories and television cartoon romances. Simple, right? How nice that it worked out so conveniently for Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella and Prince Charming, Ariel and Eric...<br />
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My childhood toys, books, and movies led me to believe there is someone out there for everyone, someone perfect...a soulmate.<br />
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Okay, So is there or isn't there? <br />
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I'd like to believe it. I also like to think I've found him already. Are you allowed to have doubts about your soulmate?<br />
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The concept of love is so ambiguous I'm finding it hard to keep one idea in my mind long enough to write about it (honestly, it probably wouldn't even make sense if I tried putting it into words). The conclusion that I've found myself at after several days pondering a seemingly never ending, series of questions is that they are unanswerable. It is completely up to interpretation, and there is nothing wrong with that. Just like there's nothing wrong with growing up having love thrown in your face the way it is. As much as I'd like to, I can't hate on happiness.<br />
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So here it is, my final thought, because if I keep going this is going to start looking like a cryptogram, if it doesn't already...We all deserve to give and receive unconditional love. It may not be with Prince Charming, but who would want him when you already have it with the kid who flicked his boogers on you in fifth grade?Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-139193916696337692011-06-06T18:39:00.000-07:002011-06-06T18:39:09.638-07:00Check it out!My friend and Co-worker, Alana, has a great blog "Wow HEY What." Her degree is in graphic design, so she has some eye candy for the art enthusiast and creative thinkers alike!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiQFrvJu8ghe-eEPJ_y_PNsyqHEGyXPdSiXd6Y6H6Q556R57V2oEQPUijvXuk4xZRJbTFGw8K8e6E7ZWpLF618DX23111Y8GIREs25o6Zk7BxlT01FhYSikLD7BQA36J7LXurRPFTd1s/s1600/Karl-lagerfeld-diet-coke-2011-540x250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUiQFrvJu8ghe-eEPJ_y_PNsyqHEGyXPdSiXd6Y6H6Q556R57V2oEQPUijvXuk4xZRJbTFGw8K8e6E7ZWpLF618DX23111Y8GIREs25o6Zk7BxlT01FhYSikLD7BQA36J7LXurRPFTd1s/s320/Karl-lagerfeld-diet-coke-2011-540x250.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://wowheywhat.blogspot.com/">Alana's Blog</a></div>Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-9786636745480594002011-06-05T20:51:00.000-07:002011-06-05T20:51:52.360-07:00could you please put some pants on? I feel weird having to ask you twice.Hello hangover! The last thing I want to do right now is pack up my stuff , and drive 5 hours crammed in the back of Eli's tiny-ass BMW. But....I'm going to Vegas, so I need to suck it up. I look over at the clock. It's 10am. We need to start moving. Holland, who is Eli's sister and my closest friend, is flying out of Pennsylvania and is expected to land in Vegas around noon. She's not going to be happy with us if we don't leave in the next half hour. I start forming a game plan in my head.<br />
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Inner monologue: Alright, I need to pack my shit, get some caffeine in me, take an Advil...leave the apartment. Then, stop for alcohol and food, because my stomach is eating itself.<br />
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My thoughts are interrupted. I hear Eli say he needs to get a haircut before we leave. Yup, a haircut. It's a good thing I love him and the place is just across the street from the apartment complex. I go with him because things between Zac and I haven't been put to rest yet. He's still pissed about the Jew comment. I'm still pissed he called me a bitch...and for being a Jew. Eli tells me that I better settle it before the car ride for the sake of the other passengers, meaning him and Mr. Magnificent. I agree.<br />
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He walks toward the barbershop and I head into Starbucks. I get my Chai and instead of going to meet up with Eli I start walking back to the apartment hoping to squash the drama with Zac. I walk in and awkwardly start picking things up and putting them down near him trying to work up the courage to say "I'm sorry." I open my mouth ready to take the blame, but instead of apologizing, I grimace and say, "So, are you going to be like this the rest of the trip? " Word vomit. He replies "no." So I comeback with a "good, me neither." That's that. Bomb defused.<br />
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Eli gets back. We start packing the car. At this point it's already after 11. I grab my last bag, take one final look at the apartment, and say my goodbyes. I really don't want to leave San Diego, but Vegas is shoutin' me a pretty holla.<br />
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Everything is in the car, including us. We're packed like sardines. You literally could not put one more thing in here. I'm uncomfortably close to Zac in the back seat. Time to go.<br />
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Nope, never mind. Eli can't find the keys. Everyone out. Oh, there they are. Laying on the ground in front of the car. Not surprised.<br />
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2nd attempt. Successful. Our first stop is the liquor store. I buy 2 bottles of Pinnacle Whipped Vodka(so. fucking. good.) I also buy some root beer and orange soda to mix! You can imagine what these combos taste like. I am the God of mixology.<br />
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We get back in the car. Next stop, food and gas.<br />
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We are about 20 miles outside of San Diego now. The boys decide to put on my iPod. Their song of choice...Stan, Eminem. I've never seen a group of boys sing so passionately. No one is saying a word to each other. They are just looking out the car windows nodding their heads to the beat, and spitting out lyrics. I hold back from laughing because I don't want them to stop.<br />
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We get to a gas station that has 2 food stops so we can grab something to eat, gas up and go. Eli gets out of the car first and starts patting himself down. I immediately know what he's doing...looking for his phone. He starts panicking. We are all taking turns calling it from our phones. No luck. Eli left his phone in San Diego. There's no way we are turning back now, and he knows this, so we move past it. His roomates are coming to Vegas tomorrow so they will bring it with them.<br />
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4 hours have passed. The trip is going well so far besides the cell phone mishap. No car troubles, no arguments, just cruisin'.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe77ryXYaR2F9YxXxAzRO_S8m_VBAQIU5FkguOjnRbIgcJC_5JIekXOlyRayGsUkW6PDP84pacIViITB8ZzkPU1kjuf4ObLI49-9PvZsV4SZclun6ogET5xiWUnj8rziSTFO6hqInF_OA/s1600/184232_717978837808_31706586_38738991_5576852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe77ryXYaR2F9YxXxAzRO_S8m_VBAQIU5FkguOjnRbIgcJC_5JIekXOlyRayGsUkW6PDP84pacIViITB8ZzkPU1kjuf4ObLI49-9PvZsV4SZclun6ogET5xiWUnj8rziSTFO6hqInF_OA/s320/184232_717978837808_31706586_38738991_5576852_n.jpg" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We come to an agreement that the last 14 miles after we stop for gas will be spent listening to Kanye West, "Cant tell me Nothin'." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yikes, last gas stop before vegas.<br />
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WE'RE IN VEGAS! I feel like a baller. I put my stunna shades on, even though the sun has gone down. Just call me Diddy. I call Holland and tell her we're at the hotel. From doing research on Palms Place, I know valet is free. So, we get our stuff out of the car and have someone park it for us. Still feelin' like a baller. I walk into the hotel like my shit don't stink, hearing Kanye bustin' rhymes in my head.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We walk into the room on the 16th floor. The place is wicked! I immediately start jumping on the bed. My adrenaline is pumping and my heart is beating a mile a minute. Let's get it! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Holland and I start playing dress-up.(This will be the start of my pantless parade over the next 2 days.) I try on every ridiculously whoreish outfit I have tucked away in my bag. See through lace tops, dresses that practically show my "britney," skin tight pants, and hooker heels. I find it necessary to dress like this because it will be one of the only times I can, I won't look any different than anyone else, and even if I did, I'm on the other side of the country. I'm not seeing any of these people again, so, fuck it!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The boys are in their glory. They are taking showers in the giant bathroom, drinks in hand. There is a frosted glass wall between the bathtub and living room and if you put your "body parts" directly against it you can see EVERYTHING! Of course, we take advantage of this.(Zac has a really white ass.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4payWhIq3TYNFbxpLxaXNAsuXGsBJb9FZ2pttiZEIsPK_ygrz45ZfgPEMVkuLNEM8FcOV8ZzCuO-75wxXBpZfkPJgE8ORtHX53GhwRHzDVNHty815CCpaGfX4vtHPIySE5ZvOYQDzK_s/s1600/198394_717979107268_31706586_38738999_2881476_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4payWhIq3TYNFbxpLxaXNAsuXGsBJb9FZ2pttiZEIsPK_ygrz45ZfgPEMVkuLNEM8FcOV8ZzCuO-75wxXBpZfkPJgE8ORtHX53GhwRHzDVNHty815CCpaGfX4vtHPIySE5ZvOYQDzK_s/s320/198394_717979107268_31706586_38738999_2881476_n.jpg" t8="true" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this is how we do it</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Music blasting, liquor flowing, we're ready to party...Vegas style. Which is much more extreme. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We are all dressed, so we start taking shots. I can tell Zac is already hammered because a full sentence has turned into one word. "aruseredtogo?" I think what you're trying to say, Zac, is," are you ready to go?" Mr. Magnificent is making mixed drinks for himself, and when I say mixed drinks I mean rum, with a tablespoon of soda.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We leave the room to go to the Palms casino, which is connected to our hotel. Eli thinks it would be a good idea to create fake identities. Genius. Eli looks very similar to Tyson Ritter, the lead singer for the All American Rejects. He's been mistaken for him before, by a, um, stripper, so we roll with that. Zac says he will be the drummer, Chris Gaylor, Mr. Magnificent will be their agent/manager, Parker Ginsberg, Holland will be "Tyson's sister", Bridget, and I will be a family friend Drew, like Drew Barrymore. I love her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Zac can barely walk...already. The boys are taking this identity thing to the extreme, yelling each other's fake names across the casino. They take a spot at a Black Jack table and Holland and I sit down to play video poker...Jacks or Better. We aren't gamblers, but Holland got a players card from Palms that has $10 on it so we figure we'll just use that until it's gone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're actually doing pretty well. We keep screaming everytime we win the slightest amount of money. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Zac stumbles over to us smoking a cigarette. Unreal. He looks like a complete asshole. He tries to tell us that the game we have been playing for the last hour isn't touch sreen. He touches the screen in hopes to obtain proof, and ends up looking like more of an asshole. Fail. We shoo him and his rancid cigarette away and continue our game. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We lose all of the money on the card and go over to the boys who, not suprisingly, are all smoking now...and wearing sunglasses. How they got the cigarettes? Still a mystery. Eli is talking to two guys who are playing at the table with them about his "concert" tomorrow at MGM. I notice he has picked up a Boston accent, but only when he says "Parkers" name. "Hey PAKA! Can we leave these guys some tickets at the box office tomorrow?"..."Ah, yea, sure.(looks at the guys) Just tell the guy at the counter you're here with Parker Ginsberg." Both of their new friends thank them graciously. It's almost sad. The one closest to Eli is just shaking his head in astonishment. Smile on his face. "No shit. Tyson Ritter. All American Rejects. This is crazy, man." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They are going to be so dissapointed when they show up at MGM only to find out there is no concert. My friends are douchebags, but so entertaining.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We walk outside, hail a cab, get in the cab, and ask the driver to take us the the best club in Vegas on a Wednesday night. We end up at Lax Nightclub at Luxor. Let the shit show commence...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">to be continued...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-32974734007627178902011-05-10T19:13:00.000-07:002011-05-17T14:04:18.505-07:00still puking and rallyingDay 5: Everyone is healthy. It's our last day before Vegas and we're planning on leaving San Diego with an extremely...explosive...bang.<br />
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It's FAT TUESDAY! We may not be in Nawlins, but we will celebrate like we are. Eli is in class again and Mr. Magnificent is finishing up school work. I'm going to the San Diego Zoo. Zac has to come with me by default. <br />
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Since we don't have a car, we have to use public transportation. I'm from Lancaster County, PA...we don't use buses where I live, there are no trolleys and Yellow cab is the only taxi service downtown. Needless to say, we're new at this, and it's bound to be a disaster.<br />
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We get on the trolley at the station by Eli's place in Mission Valley. First step=success. The trolley employee starts to come around to check tickets. I pull mine out and I realize that it expired yesterday. Luckily, she doesn't notice. Since I am too scared to play this game the hard way and hope that no one notices for the rest of the trip I plan to get one at the next stop. We have to switch from the trolley to a bus, because it doesn't go all the way to the zoo. We exit at Fashion Valley station to change modes of transportation. I look for a kiosk to get new tickets. Of course, I'm short on cash because I wasn't planning on needing it, and apparently they only accept exact change. Zac doesn't have enough to get us both, so we walk over to the mall in hopes to hit up an ATM, and find someone that will break a 20 for us. No one will give us change so we finally just cave a buy a water. We get back to the station. We are surrounded by the scum of the earth and have no idea which side to stand on. The bus passes us about 4 times before we realize something isn't right. We call Eli. He has no idea what the problem could be. It passes us again. I'm starting to get irritated. <br />
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6. Time to get a fucking cab. What a waste of time. No reason to get money out, or take the trolley. I better be able to swim with fucking polar bears for the trouble I'm going through to get to this zoo.<br />
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We turn the corner to find a cab. Zac throws his arms up in disbelief. I look over in the direction he is standing and see the bus that has been continually driving past us stopped and picking up passengers. Un- fucking-believable. By the time we get over there the bus is leaving once again. At least this time we know where were supposed to be. We go sit down on the bench directly in front of the stop so there is no chance we will miss it again. <br />
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I have seen a lot of whacked out drug addicts before, but none to the degree of whackedness coming down the stairs behind us. I'll paint a picture for you. White girl...black guy. The girl is wearing a huge gray t-shirt, black zip up hoodie, and flare jeans that almost completely cover her once white/now brown, Reebok sneakers. Her hair is about 5 different colors of awful and is so thin and stringy. (probably from all the meth) She has a plastic bag in her hand, which I'm assuming is full of either drugs or recyclables that she can use to get money for drugs. If it's possible, the fellow she is with looks worse. He has short nappy hair. He's wearing a wife-beater...and black jeans that are hanging down at his knees...aaaannndd he's not wearing underwear. Icing on the cake: Zac nudges me just as he's bending over looking in his pockets for change to buy a coke. I turn around and see nothing but his bare, black, ass staring me in the face. I almost scream, but the vomit inching up my throat prevents any sound from creeping out of me.<br />
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They ramble on loudly about things that are foreign to my sober/non-drug user ears. I make jokes to Zac about how gross they are, commentate what they might be saying to each other and continually stare at them. I can't help it, it's like witnessing a car crash. I guess I'm a little too loud and the bitch hears me saying things and looking at them. Whoops, I'm caught. I jerk my head around in the other direction. She yells "Hey! were you talking about me!" Zac looks back at her while I look at him with nothing but fear in my eyes. I'm about to get rocked by a meth-head. I breathe a sigh of relief after Zac shakes his head no and she says nothing more on the subject. I'm done being tough in California.<br />
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We get on the bus. Finally. The crazies stay behind. The bus driver is super helpful and promises to tell us when we are supposed to be getting off(That's what she said.) She sticks to her word and flags us down. We get off that bus and walk to the next one. This is so damn complicated it's unreal. <br />
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We made it! Let me just take a minute to thank Steve Jobs for inventing the iPhone. Steve, you're the man. Without your genius device they call a cellphone I would have ended up in the Pacific. It may have been a hell of a ride, but it could have been a lot worse.<br />
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The zoo is preeeetty awesome. The gorillas and elephants blow my mind. Animals, I have decided, are more intelligent than I am. Once again, if I had a bucket list, I would cross "going to the San Diego Zoo" off of it...and mastering public transportation.<br />
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Zac and I ride the trolley back to Eli's. This time we know what we're doing. No good stories.<br />
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I'm pretty beat from the eventful day we've had already, but it's our last night and I'm ready to party hardy. We start drinking and getting dressed to go out on the town for Mardi Gras. Dressing these boys is so much fun. Mr. Magnificent wants to look like he's ready to throw down, naturally. Eli asks his roommate, Kyle, if he still has his American Flag pants. I like where this is going. We put MM in the American flag pants, a bright green polo, and Eli's SDSU red and black mullet wig, with my green and black leopard print scarf wrapped around it like Rambo. To top it off, we throw some beads on him. Zac puts on a shirt that says "I like boobies" and Eli, looking the most normal puts on some sunglasses and beads. READY!<br />
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Ed is coming out with us. I'm happy as a clam. We wait for him to pick us up. Why is this guy always driving us around when we all know he is bound to be the most intoxicated? We pound a few. Zac asks me for money for the beer. Bad idea. I bought the first case. I tell him to stop being a Jew(sorry, Jews. I love Adam Sandler!) This doesn't sit well with Zac and he tells me to stop being a fucking bitch. Wha Wha Whatt? It's a good thing he yells this from the bathroom because he would have gotten a swift kick in the balls if he were anywhere close to me. Zac will now receive the silent treatment from me the rest of the evening. This is the start of our first fight, but certainly not the last.<br />
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Ed calls Eli to let us know he has arrived. We walk out to his killa, Lexus, SUV and pile in.<br />
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The city of San Diego is packed with people. Most of the streets are blocked off. Everyone is decked out on Mardi Gras attire. There are go-go dancers dressed as fairies, standing on platforms placed at every corner of each block. This is so fun! We get in line to grab beer. I take some pics of my boys and some randoms that clearly belong in my pictures as well. <br />
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Let the double fisting begin! My addrenaline is going. We walk in the first bar. The music is deafening. Dance floor it is. I feel like there is no one around, but the place is packed. Teach me how to Dougie comes on. Holler. I am dougie-ing my ass off when I spot a gentleman caller trying to show me up. I swag step over to him in hopes to battle. (Note: don't ever try to battle me. I will humiliate you.) He is impressed with my moves, and decides it would be a good idea to pick me up by the waist and spin around with me. This guy is probably around 6'7 and 200 pounds. I'm like a rag doll in his hands. As fun as it is towering above everyone I beg him to put me down. He responds to my cries, drops me, spins me around, and starts dry humping the shit out of me. I let this go on for about a minute until he starts pulling my hair. No, thanks. I leave abruptly and walk back over to my friends. I tell them what just happened and ask if they saw any of it. Nope. I think it's best if I stay close, because clearly these guys aren't going to notice if I get kidnapped/ raped.<br />
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Onto the next one. We go down into the basement of this bar. Don't ask me what the name of it is. I am highly intoxicated, and so is Mr. Magnificent. We walk up to the bar and order who knows how many shots. Mr. Magnificent and I are having the time of our lives. To top off our excitement Kid Cudi starts bumpin'! The last thing I remember is Ed sitting on the stage and me attempting to perform a lapdance on him. You'll have to ask him how it was. I'd be willing to guess it was sloppy.<br />
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sleepy time.<br />
<br />
**A little birdie told me the next day that the rest of the evening consisted of a drunken stumble back to the car and into the apartment. Oh, and apparently I tried to rip a registration sticker off of a car to give to Eli. Normal.Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-80051863213173512262011-04-26T19:06:00.000-07:002011-05-17T14:03:03.174-07:00Happy Birthday, Cory.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>It's days like today that help me remember how precious life is. Today is our dear friend Cory's 22nd birthday. Unfortunatley for us, he's celebrating in a better place. In memory of him, and as a gift for Cory's family and the rest of his friends on his special day I put together a list of special messages his loved ones have sent to him to help his spirit live on and comfort others...</strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnSr7ND-3dZbVLA7eTnpEgyONCGWzNEtEpr9CVBH8fY-L83tIGzoPC2u_dHyHMK5KA7Hl006G2pAXvmLnPaRmtGL7hM7HECpk2ziRkLxCnmQhTwrW9yOyA6DOBEP-Xg77vZLRtz-LkVo/s1600/VWNUM8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnSr7ND-3dZbVLA7eTnpEgyONCGWzNEtEpr9CVBH8fY-L83tIGzoPC2u_dHyHMK5KA7Hl006G2pAXvmLnPaRmtGL7hM7HECpk2ziRkLxCnmQhTwrW9yOyA6DOBEP-Xg77vZLRtz-LkVo/s200/VWNUM8.jpg" width="175" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Because of you, I laugh more, attempt to put a smile on someone's face no matter what and try to always have a good story to tell. I still can't believe how many stories about you were told. It usually takes a lifetime for someone to have that many stories but not you! You are missed greatly! ♥</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="UIStory_Message">Still loved, still greatly missed. xoxo</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">♥ a full year without your brilliant personality, crazy humor and love....not good. Miss you! Forever in my heart ♥ Always on my Mind ♥</span></span></div><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">Standing at my kitchen window, looking at Cory's cross and Memory tree - thinking how I hadn't seen a blue bird in awhile and how much I could really use a sign from Cory. Not even minute passed before a blue bird flew across my yard, landed in a tree and back again so that I could truly believe my eyes! I love you and miss you more than ever!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">so i had a rough day today.. nothing seemed to go my way .. time passed slow and work seems to be endless.. i think about you every day and its days like today where you help me realize that every breath could be your last and you never know what gods plans are for you and not to waste one second being pissed over noth<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">ing.. im missing you man but <span style="color: #93c47d;">youve made me a better perso</span><span style="color: #93c47d;">n</span>.. i hung your picture right beside my front door so everytime i leave the house i can get a little corlinger to get me through the day.. i know your looking down as im typing this.. i can feel you man.. miss you</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message">Today was an unusual day, I didn't sleep at all. woke up, made coffee, read a book for an hour, ran a mile and randomly decided that I should take my dog for a walk (because I was in such a good mood). Now this all seems irelevnt, I know. But what ties it all together and lead me to write this was, when I was walking h<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">im I happen to look up.. And perched ontop of the F&M building is an <span style="color: #38761d;">eagle</span>. So rare to be in the city, let alone at 6:45 in the morning when I had been walking. I couldn't help but to stop and admire how beautiful it was and how lucky I was to see it. I have been thinking about you a lot, and I know that eagle was you. Thank you, miss you always and forever. ♥</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"> <span class="UIStory_Message">Cory man i still think about the crazy times that we went though 2 summers ago at suzies hole. you'll always be missed my friend.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">Cory so many things that we did last year at this time...or that bring up memories ... Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett passing away, Wimbledon - guess you have a great view this year of the longest tennis match in history - but we had fun last year watching Federer and Roddick at the Alley Kat. I can't believe you <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">are gone and memories are my lifeline. You truly had a unique outlook on life and I am so blessed to have you in my life. Keep sending me signs, hugs and dreams. I miss you so much; my heart is broken</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br />
<span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message">what's a male <span style="color: #0b5394;">blue jay</span> called?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><strong>CORLINGER-One who induces humor</strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span class="UIStory_Message">Was recently reminded of seeing your cute face in the hallway all the time... you made me laugh and were one of the few people who made going to school interesting. I wonder what you're doing right now and am excited for the day I see you again!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">i wont forget the time in tsa regionals at millersville, you asked me for 50 dollars to play this kid in pool that had a cast on his wrist. i believe your exact words were "dude, i cant lose to this kid....he has a broken arm." so of course, you convinced me and i gave the you 50 bucks. then after you made the deal, he<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> took of his "cast" and cleared the table on you. haha definitely worth the money. miss you man</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="color: blue;">was just by that place we thought we were gonna get jumped at. Those<br />
houses that were still being constructed back then, that we sat and<br />
waited in with bars and shit. And that fuckin' potato cannon that shot<br />
toward that island was amazing. I miss all of that. Wish ya the best, mate.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message">i remember the time we went to the brickyard me n you. and i had that white tee on and the idiot waitress came over and said if i didnt take it off and put on the shirt she gave me, we were getting thrown out. we left. and you got the shirt she gave me and just throw it lol. i miss you man, i miss calling u and seeing <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">how your doing, i miss basketball in eli's driveway. i hope to see u soon. btw rudy gay has been killing it as of late. talk to you soon.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message">thinking about the time when you had to push me across 4 lanes of traffic in the Wow Van on our way up to Reading, which was another story in itself. I'm reallly missing you, but I'll be ok.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">Belly surfing in OCM during one of our few vacations, eating sand, sun burn, hot peppers on pizza! Well, I guess that is mine forever!</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><strong>an angel got his wings & we'll hold our heads up knowing that he's fine ♥</strong></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">If I could write a song about you, it would be about all the things that you did and do! Then I would have to say that I miss all the things about you! Our lives were cut into two, but it hurts the most knowing what we two could do! I love you, don't know what to do!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span style="color: red;"> forever in my heart and memories. see you soon big bro ♥ 8</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">I miss you, Cory, in the snow, sledding, laughing with ice in your hair.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">With the smell of your soul and fix the bridge that bowed<br />
from the blows that age delivers.<br />
But I fear collapse as your weight will pass, you know I love you more than you will know...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">What the heart gives away is never gone. It is kept in the hearts of others. Cory will live forever in our hearts because he gave his spirit to so many</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="messageBody">im planning ahead trying to decide what i want to do for my summer job this year... wish i could work with you again. i think you made the most boring job ever, the <strong>funniest</strong> one. some of my favorite times are.. when you guys made your fort to sleep in, when we recording our voices saying the ceiling tiles hahaha oh my worddd, doing that creepy walk in the pitch black auditorium sooo creepy! haha, and the would you rather cards that were actually quite disturbing. miss ya cory!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason<br />
<br />
Bringing something we must learn. And we are led<br />
<br />
To those who help us most to grow, if we let them<br />
<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><br />
And we help them in return<br />
<br />
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true<br />
<br />
But I know I'm who I am today<br />
<br />
Because I knew you...<br />
<br />
Like a comet pulled from orbit, as it passes a sun<br />
<br />
Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood<br />
<br />
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?<br />
<br />
<strong>But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.</strong><br />
(Missing the 8, always)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message">I am listening to "a walk through hell" right now, and I am convinced that out of alll my songs on my ipod you chose to make that song come one everytime to give me a good laugh, and I always do. I miss you and love you and have so much I wish I could say to you, but your with all of us, and for now that is enough. Peace&♥</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message">i had my first cory dream the other night... sooo funny.. miss ya cor</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span style="color: blue;">Was thinking about you last night when I was having a blast with Kyle. Was wondering what your crazy costume idea would be haha</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-jsid="text"><u>Cory .. there are no words.. only love </u></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-jsid="text"><span class="messageBody">Today is absolutely beautiful! I know you are with me in spirit I have been thinking about you so much lately & I will never forget the memories we have shared-you will always be part of my freshman year IUP family! I love & miss you so much Cory enjoy your day I am celebrating with you in spirit & the best part of today is my niece was also born :) RIP Cory & Peace.Love.Happiness xoxo ♥ </span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-jsid="text"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody">Thinking about those times in school when the final bell on Thursday would ring and we would run around the halls and scream, "hooo yeaahhh!!! it's friday!!!!! TGIF!! YEEAAH!!" and try to get other people to believe it. it was so funny. I miss you, a lot</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">"There is a land, where the roses are without thorns, where the flowers are not mixed with brambles. In that land, there is eternal spring, and light without any cloud. The tree of life groweth in the midst thereof; rivers of pleasures are there, and flowers that never fade. Myriads of <u>happy spirits</u> are there, and surround the throne of God with a perpetual hymn. The angels with their golden harps sing praises continually, and the cherubim fly on wings of fire. This country is Heaven..."</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="messageBody">been thinking about you a lot lately, although some time has passed, and people may forget what exactly you said, and people may forget what exactly you did, they will never forget how you made them feel... here's to never forgetting</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: right;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody">You made me an entirely better person, and the crazy part is, you continue to do so. Miss you more than I can word.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: right;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span style="background-color: #0b5394;">nobody will ever forget you cory. you were.. and you are such an amazing person!</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody">Love and miss you man! You were an inspiration to soo many and even though you are gone you will forvever be in the lives and hearts of everyone you have touched. I know that you got the best pair of wings up there and by all means you deserve them. You were a<strong> beautiful</strong> fun filled person who will always be remembered by your amazing personality. Take care brotha, keep fullfiling your role as a legend up there.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody">thinking about the time at an away football game and we were all soaked because it was raining really hard and you said that you felt like you were on voyage of the mimi, and that you would be ben affleck, i would be fergie, and casey would be the beached whale..haha<333</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span style="color: #e69138;">i miss you sooo much, snow days aren't the same without you - i'll never forget our snow day in the winter of '05 at olivia's and then eli's.... i always said that was one of the best days, love love love forever ♥</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody">Cory I was thinking about you the other day. I know you had never met my dad before, but like you, he was a mischevious and fun soul, so I like to think you two will bump into each other up there and stir up some trouble : ) <span style="color: #0c343d;">Miss you.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><span class="messageBody"><span style="color: black;"> </span>had this awesome cory moment yesterday ... I am walking through the student center to buy something to eat for breakfast, when out of the corner of my eye, into a student lounge, I see a table full of yummy doughnuts, muffins, fruits, coffee and juices that are what seem to be un-attended! I take a look up and down the hallway, and de<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">cided to see whats going on inside. As I walk in I freeze becuase I see one of our food service ladies...o wait, she is sleeping on a sofa. I preceeded to have a breakfast I later found out was for Career Fair employees only. <br />
- <strong>that one is for you Cory</strong>, miss you man!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Cory, We love and miss you so much We will continue to celebrate your life today and everyday. Happy Birthday, man.</strong></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">here we go blue bird.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed">I carry you with me into the world, <br />
into the smell of rain <br />
& the words that dance between people <br />
& for me, it will always be this way, <br />
walking in the light, <br />
<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">remembering being alive together</span></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="messageBody">cor (you hated when i called you that) i wish you were here so badly. you were always the one person who always knew the right thing to say to make me laugh....ridiculous how much i miss that. love you....wish i could hug you right now. </span></span></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span style="color: #741b47;">Really missing you-- as always. Thanks for still being a part of my life. Love you</span></span></span></span></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody">This funny story of Cory just popped into my head. Back in video production there were 2 rooms and each had a telephone. And Cory sat under the table in the one room and called Mr. Heim in the classroom and said that Cory needed to go to the office immediately and he bought it. It was so damn funny!!! Love ya Cory</span></span></span></span></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span class="messageBody"><span style="color: #741b47;">really missing you today. Love you man, wish more than anything in the world you were here. peace</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-7139758372421607902011-04-12T16:57:00.000-07:002011-04-26T16:17:34.598-07:00puke and rally: part duexMoving right along...<br />
<br />
Day 3: Zac is being a little bitch. Kidding. I think he is at first, but realize after he can't even look at the In-and-Out Burger sitting in front of him, there has to be something wrong. I feel bad, but I can't help but tell him what he's missing out on. Double-Double is too legit.<br />
<br />
Eli goes to the library, and Mr. Magnificent decides to join him to get some things done as well. Probably a good idea since he is already missing a week of classes.<br />
<br />
I have plans to meet up with my friend Allison and her boyfriend Jeff to go on a hike in Poway. We leave poor, pitiful Zac to sleep away his sickness. I'm getting ready to go and I can tell he's uber bummed. His shoulders are hunched. He tells me to have fun, and slowly drags himself back to Eli's bed.(still think he's being a little dramatic)<br />
<br />
This hike is unbelievable, everywhere I look is a sight to see. It is a 4 mile trail up Iron Mountain, so we do 8 miles all together. I run/workout practically everyday and thought I was in pretty good shape, but this uphill trek is telling me otherwise. Let's just say I'm really glad Jeff has a camelbak because I would be dying if it weren't for water.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we made it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Not only is this hike phenoms, but the company as well. Jeff and Allison are both adventurous people and knew exactly where to take me that would leave a lasting impression. I'm also getting caught up on their lives. It's only the second time I've had the pleasure of talking to Jeff and he's a great guy; perfect for Allison. We get back down the mountain. Relief. I end the afternoon cruising in her bright red, convertible, mini cooper. Sounds good, right?<br />
<br />
I get back to the apartment complex and hope that someone is there to let me in. I text Eli, Mr. Magnificent and Zac to tell them I'm almost there. Zac tells me he's still around, and the door is unlocked; the other 2 rebels are still on SDSU's campus at the library. I walk in to Eli's place. Zac is laying on the couch "sleeping." Since I had just talked to him 3 minutes ago I figure he's faking. I stick the arm of my sunglasses in his ear waiting for a smile or for him to slap my hand away. Nothing. I go get a shower. I hear my phone beep. I get out of the shower and check my phone. It's a text from Zac. "Where are you?"... Are you serious bro? He didn't hear me open the door that's 5 feet in front of him, feel the sunglasses going in his ear, or catch the sound of the shower running/me singing in the bathroom? I hope he's fucking with me.<br />
<br />
I walk into the living room and Zac is sitting on a different couch than he was before, blankly staring at the television. I go sit with him, and ask how he's feeling. He can barely talk, but starts telling me how he's been hallucinating really fucked up shit. One hallucination that especially makes me laugh is...when he is laying down on the couch he thinks he is in some game and can earn points based on which side of his body he is laying on. This is ridiculous. Then he starts to describe different rules. Apparently me, Eli and Mr. Magnificent are the only ones who understand them. This is very frustrating for Zac. I come to the conclusion that the DayQuil that has become a substitute for his meals is making him clinically insane. He has taken about 4 times the amount suggested, has not eaten a single thing, and is sleeping. DayQuil is meant to keep you up and this kid can barely keep his eyes open. I don't know what he has, but I worry that he is going to be bed ridden the rest of the trip. He most definitely looks worse than he did earlier. <br />
<br />
We sit there watching TV. He grabs my hand and starts hitting himself in the head with it. I think he's trying to wake up or express that he wants me to beat the sickness out of him, but I get freaked out when I see no expression on his face. I jerk my hand away from him and tell him to get a hold of himself. He reminds me of the paper he still has to finish that I told him I'd help him out with. Swell. I'm tired as shit and he is in no shape to form educated sentences. I ask him to let me have a 30 minute power nap and then I'll help him. I fall asleep. I'm woken up. No way it has already been a half an hour. I look at the clock. Only 23 minutes have passed. I'm not happy, but see no reason to complain because I am perfectly healthy, and he looks like death.<br />
<br />
We finish his paper and he tells me he's going to lay down. I take him a glass of water and put it by the bed. I'm starting to get worried. Hours pass. I go into Eli's room to check on him and it doesn't sound or look like he's breathing. Sweet, he overdosed on a fever reducer. I reach down and touch his arm. He is drenched in sweat. I shake him to make sure he's alright. He's delirious, but living. I let him go back to sleep and tell him to let me know if he needs anything. At this point I feel like he needs to go to a hospital.<br />
<br />
I text Eli and ask him when they are getting back because I'm starting to get super concerned. He tells me they are on their way. They walk in the door. I just shake my head. Eli asks me what's going on. I tell him a few stories. He interrupts me laughing and says "Yeah man, did he tell you about the video game where he earns points by laying on a certain side of his body!?" <br />
<br />
We bounce ideas back and forth about what he could have. Clearly he has a fever, symptom 1. He's hallucinating, symptom 2. He keeps complaining about sunburn from the beach, and the backs of his calves are burnt as shit, symptom 3. He has no appetite, symptom 4. He has a cough and sore throat, symptoms 5 and 6. He's taken enough medicine to take down a 400 pound gorilla, symptom 7. The list goes on. I start googling all these symptoms together and the most random array of diseases and conditions pop up on my iPhone screen. I download the WebMD app. I think this will be helpful. I am wrong. We give up. Time to pop in 'The Hangover'. We need to get pumped for our Vegas trip and get our minds off the infected Zac.<br />
<br />
Zac comes into the living room. You can see right through his white shirt. He looks like he mistakenly took a shower with his clothes on. He looks like he can't comprehend what or where he is. He doesn't speak. I tell him to go get a cold shower. He comes back out, looking more like a human being than he has in the last few hours. He tells us he feels better, but his voice sounds pretty bad and he has no appetite. We share our ideas with him about what it could be. Nothing is concrete so we drop the subject again, and watch the movie. I fall asleep. Zac wakes me up because I am spread out across him on the couch. The last thing I remember seeing is Bradley Cooper butt fucking Mike Tyson's tiger. Goodnight.<br />
<br />
Day 4: I wake up to Zac shaking me. I slowly open my eyes. I see the biggest smile on his face. He's pleased with himself. He is almost fully recovered. At least recovered enough to start consuming alcohol again. I assume that he sweat out whatever he had. (We still aren't a hundred percent sure what he had, but all signs point to an intake of excessive amounts of alcohol, combined with Mr. Magnificent's germs, intense exposure of sunlight on his ginger skin, and substituting DayQuil for breakfast, lunch and dinner.)<br />
<br />
Unfortunately for him it's a shitty day.(if there is such a thing in San Diego) It's raining and there is no promise that the sun will be showing itself. Eli is in class, so we get ready to go onto campus to meet him and hit up the SDSU student bookstore to buy some Aztec gear.<br />
<br />
We get there and hit up Starbucks. I need coffee and Zac needs nourishment. It's been over 24 hours since he last ate. I get a grande chai...the usual...Mr. Magnificent gets a coffee, black...his usual and Zac orders a feast which included some milkshake/smoothie thing, a sandwich and a huge coffee cake pastry. We finish and Eli meets us inside. We walk over to the student center and pick out some t-shirts. Mine is the coolest. Everyone is jealous. Maybe.<br />
<br />
We get back to Eli's place, again. I'm antsy and hungry. Eli, Zac and I go grab some lunch at Subway. Eli orders a pepperoni and meatball sandwich, not toasted...he is allergic. They know this already. He has to go back to campus for class, so I make Zac come to Ikea with me. He's never been there. Everyone needs to go to Ikea at least once. We are overwhelmed and almost can't find our way out. Then, there is light. The sun peaks through the clouds and I am happy. No more rain today! <br />
<br />
Zac and I make plans to go to dinner with Allison and Jeff. Eli has play practice and Mr. Magnificent has been procrastinating so he still has a lot of work to do. <br />
<br />
We have time to kill before then. Laundry is piled up in Eli's room, and the place is a train wreck. Even more so than before. I figure since these guys are giving us a place to stay the least I can do is clean their apartment. I do the Dishes. Take out the Trash. Wash and fold mine and the boys clothing. Dust and disinfect. Zac helps...a little.<br />
<br />
I get in the shower and get dressed to go out in Old Town, where we are getting Thai food for dinner. Jeff and Allison call to let me know they are here to pick us up. Allison opens up her door to let me in and I see her and Jeff are in sneakers, shorts and matching orange T-shirts. They just came from a softball game. Awesome. I'm in heels and everyone else is slummin' it. I hate standing out. I'm usually the under dressed one. Oh well. The food is excellent. The laughs are better. We all tell stories from high school and reminisce about the ridiculous shit we used to do together. I come dangerously close to peeing my pants. We finish eating and go next door for some gelato. Muy Bueno! Jeff and Allison Drop Zac and I off at the apartment. Another great night in San Diego has come to an end. I don't want to leave. Ever.Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-28685791826862794072011-03-27T20:16:00.000-07:002011-03-29T08:50:52.350-07:00Puke and RallyIt's been months since my last post. My life has been in disoray since the middle of January. I'm back in school full time, and still averaging about 30 hours of work a week. Needless to say, when I have free time, I want to do something that involves alcohol, and lots of it. I promise I'm not complaining. I know we all have busy schedules, but shit.<br />
<br />
So, to catch everyone up...here's what I've been up to in a nutshell...<br />
<br />
February: sleep, school, work, gym, eat, drink...woah, slow down, Danielle.<br />
<br />
March: Things start looking up this month. SPRING BREAK! I went on the best vacation I've ever been on in my life, no exaggeration. Two of my friends and I went to visit other friends of ours in San Diego. One goes to SDSU,(go aztecs!) and the other just moved there from San Fransisco and is interning at a PR firm. We stayed with my friend that's in school, since the other friends work schedule is a little demanding. Even though I slept on a love seat with no pillow all week(did I mention my friend was a dude),and spent more money than I'd like to talk about, I couldn't have asked for a better time. Let me explain why...<br />
<br />
Side note: Someone wishes to remain nameless. I shall call him, Mr. Magnificent.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">you're telling me I can't get a drink before 7am?</td></tr>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Day 1: We leave Mr. Magnificent's house around 2:30am to catch our 5:30am flight. I'm exhausted and annoyed, but the thought of inhaling Ketel One in just a short few hours lifts my spirits. Mr. Magnificent immediately gets pissed that there are no bars in the airport open yet. We settle for coffee and juice...for now. We get on the plane, and I of course get stuck by the window seat next to the emergency exit. I'm the last person that you'd want saving your life if your plane was going down. The flight attendant asks if I'd like to move. I stay for the extra leg room. There's a couple sitting next to me that won't stop taking pictures of each other. Perfect. Luckily they fall asleep as soon as the plane gets in the air. A few hours later we are in the Houston airport. Halfway there! We have an hour before our connecting flight takes off, so naturally we head for the bar. Zac and I get Kettle One and OJ. Nothing like a screwdriver at 9am. After 2 rounds our bartender asks us what time our flight takes off, so I look at my watch. Our plane is boarding. Window seat again. I don't give a shit because there's alcohol in my blood stream and our next stop is sunny San Diego! As we are landing I open the window shade to the most glorious city I've ever seen. There are actual tears in my eyes. I tell myself, Danielle, you are going to live here someday; someday very soon. When we land, Eli is in class. We decide to take a cab to a bar in Mission Valley, near his apartment. After having to use the GPS on my iPhone to tell the cab driver where to go, and approximately 3 near death experiences later, we get to McGregor's. It's around 11am, so there aren't many people there. With our luggage in hand we take a table outside in the beautiful 70 something degree weather. 2 pitchers and a few orders of fish tacos later, Eli shows up to take us back to his apartment, but not before a beer run. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">After stocking up on a few necessities at the 7eleven we make another quick stop at a car dealership so Eli can get a mechanics signature on something that is completely slipping my mind right now. Zac gets out to go pee, leaving just me and Mr. Magnificent in the car, we both think it'd be a good idea to continue drinking. We chug a natty.(gross) A few minutes later we head to Eli's apartment. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Clearly, boys live here. The first thing he does is apologize for the stench coming from the kitchen area; hilarious. We put our bathing suits and walk to the pool and hot tub in his apartment complex. We are surrounded by palm trees and blue skies. This is my heaven. I am high on life. The Natural Light even starts to taste good. At this point we're all a little inebriated, but Mr. Magnificent is by far the drunkest. Everyone starts making bets that he won't make it through the night. I have 10 bucks on it. I decide Mr. Magnificent will be the MVP of this trip. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When we get done relaxing by the pool I tell them I'm going for a run, they all think I'm crazy, except for Mr. Magnificent, he decides he's coming with me...despite my concerns that he won't be able to keep up. I tell him I will leave behind a fallen soldier. He has no problems with this, so we put on our music and roll out. As we run around Qualcomm Stadium, I'm in a state of euphoria. We run about 3 and a half miles, all the while fist pumping and giving high fives of encouragement. This is the best run I will ever go on.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Eli's roommate Joey has a girlfriend who lives in PB, so we decide to go to her place for some pregamming, before we go to the bars, because apparently we hadn't done enough of that already. We play some card games, listen to music and drink Bud Light. (Side note: Tessa is awesome) The last beer in the case is saved for Mr. Magnificent. He chugs it. Big mistake. We all start heading outside to make the walk toward Typhoon's in downtown Pacific Beach, when all the sudden Mr. Magnificent starts puking everywhere. To really appreciate this scene you would have to see how the yards are set up in this residential area. Try to picture two parallel rows of houses, no more than 10 feet apart, with a sidewalk seperating them and each one has a little yard with fences. Mr. Magnificent is flailing back and forth spewing vomit over every lawn like a yard sprinkler system. At this point, Zac, Eli and I are the only ones outside and we are all looking at each other in astonishment. The last yard he stops at gets some serious work done on it, and when he finally stops we see him look up and in the most pitiful voice wisper... "sorry." I am mortified. Zac looks at Mr. Magnificent walking towards us and says, "Dude, was there someone out there?" I hunch down, hoping not to be seen. Mr. Magnificent smiles and tells us, "Yeah, but he said not to worry about it, we've all been there." We just dodged a bullet, no, more like a fucking grenade. Mr. Magnificent feels better than ever, and mutters "Puke, and Rally." Mr. Magnificent...MVP.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We stop at the Tap Room, a microbrewery, and get a round. Mr. Magnificent gets a frigging stoudt, which has the highest alcohol content on the menu, I can't believe this kid. Zac and I grab a beer they call 'horney devil' that was highly recommended by our waitress. We talk about how ridiculous tonights events have been and mock Mr. Magnificent's vomiting episode. We are not even through our first day and we already have a great puke story. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Typhoons is great. Eli says it looks tame tonight, clearly he hasn't been to Lancaster for a while. Zac and Eli are dancing on a platform above the dance floor with 2 girls while Mr. Magnificent and I watch some drunk sluts show off their lack of pole dancing skills. I'm captivated by their lack of respect for themselves and wonder if they will regret doing this is the morning. Eli introduces us to 2 of his friends, Jake and Alex. Jake is one of the funniest mother fuckers I've ever met, and Alex is a cute little German who I'd love to carry around in my pocket, just so I could take him out every now and then and listen to his accent. I get caught up talking and dancing with Alex to Blink 182 'say it ain't so', and don't realize Mr. Magnificent is missing until I get a text from him that says "I'm outside." Fantastic. I round up the other 2, and we leave to find Mr. Magnificent. He's no where to be seen and all of us are too drunk to figure out a game plan so we just start yelling his name. Alex, the sobberest of us spots him across the street and goes over to escort him back towards where we are. We get a cab, and that's the last thing I remember. From what Eli tells me, we all fell asleep in the back while he talked to the cab driver about his family in some other country. Don't judge me, we were up for over 24 hours. Rockstars...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Day 2: I wake up and stumble to the bathroom. This is one of the first times I've woken up and am sure that I'm still drunk. I hear Kevin and Eli in the bedroom rustling around. I begin to question Mr. Magnificent's sexuality when I hear Eli say "Dude, stop looking me in the eyes." My hair looks like I just had sex with a gorilla, if that makes sense; it's the first thing that came to mind. After I assess my looks, I decide I don't give a shit how ugly I am and walk out onto the porch. The sun beats down on my ghostly pale arms. Perfect beach weather. We pack up our things and drive to Coronado.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFObYYoRQ6ErS8wADHxNCwsdP-7JtxY3z2RtHhmzQdNOiFOJgTdCNKcCChxlTadztpohlSaqJx0cRBupIVZC5vpv6eI21cQ9xN0hVRqklZatQUdoGSZFRRttyPAOudxvKYwLFa_6M_IiY/s1600/198228_717953872838_31706586_38738506_2761494_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="169" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFObYYoRQ6ErS8wADHxNCwsdP-7JtxY3z2RtHhmzQdNOiFOJgTdCNKcCChxlTadztpohlSaqJx0cRBupIVZC5vpv6eI21cQ9xN0hVRqklZatQUdoGSZFRRttyPAOudxvKYwLFa_6M_IiY/s200/198228_717953872838_31706586_38738506_2761494_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">self explanitory</td></tr>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When we get to the beach we throw football, get our feet in the water, walk around the Hotel Del, and tan; except for Zac, who is a ginger, and burns. Eli's ex-girlfriend is also in San Diego visiting some friends so we meet up with them. I also let my friend Allison know we are here and she tells me her and her boyfriend will be over soon. I can't believe I'm here. Even being hungover here feels better than a good, healthy day in PA. Some highlights from the day here so far include...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">1. A pidgeon stealing my entire bad of pistachios, while Allison and I chase it.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">2. One of Arianna's friends reuniting with her boyfriend after 3 weeks. It seriously looks like they are reanacting scenes from The Notebook. Vom. They could not make anyone feel more awkward. I really would rather you not make out for 25 minutes in front of me. Spare my gag reflex, por favor.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">3. The best and only shrimp enchiladas I've ever ingested.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">4. Cold drinking water.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">5. Seeing Allison for the first time since December....Awww, I have a heart.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">While on the beach we make plans to go to the SDSU basketball game that night. They are playing Colorado State. I'm pumped.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We go home, grab showers, and head to Viejas Arena on the trolly. Reppin' some serious SDSU gear, compliments of Eli. The game is awesome. The school spirit is inspiring and I'm now in love with DJ Gay. Eli flags us down during the last minute of the game and tells us to follow him. At first I don't understand what were doing, but a light bulb goes on when we start heading down toward the court. After time runs out and SDSU comes out with the W, we rush the court! Zac is in front of me and bites it hard. Not only does he look like a complete ass, just by falling, but he also loses his shoe. His struggle to get up practically makes me topple over in hysterics. We jump around in the crowd of people like we belong. I'm an SDSU men's basketball fan for life. If I had a bucket list, I would cross this off of it.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">To celebrate the win, we go to Effin's. It's apparently a big SDSU hangout, and everyone is going there. We pile in to Jake's big ass Caddy and uncomfortably make our way over. We get in and start pounding drinks one after another. There is a girl in the middle of the "dance floor" in a romper attempting to have a dance battle with the guy standing beside her. I say attempting because her moves look like some sort of seizing walk. Unless you are retarded and have no legs, you can dance better than her. We all find this amusing and continue to watch her make an ass of herself. Eli's friends make me laugh...a lot. I meet another one named Ed. Ed is one of those guys that you know just by looking at him that he drinks heavily, and on the reg. You know he will always have a good story to tell about the morning after, and when you talk to him you just wait for the "speaking of alligators and crack addicted whores...this one time..." That's Ed. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Mr. Magnificent is again the drunkest at the bar, Eli is a close second, I know this because I watch him standing outside the photo booth in the bar waiting to pop his head in on a group of girls getting their pictures taken. Mr. Magnificent and Ed are stealing Jello shots off of the cocktail waitresses tray after she leaves them in charge of gaurding it for a minute. There may have been about 5 out of 20 left after they had their way with it. Again, we dodge a bullet. This chick is cool.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Everyone disappears in the crowd leaving me, Zac and Alex talking. When we realize they are gone we go on a man hunt for them. Alex thinks they are in the outside part of the bar. We get outside and they are no where to be found. When we turn to go back inside there is a huge line leading up to the door. They are only letting people in when people come out. Were fucked. There are at least 80 people in this line. Alex is not worried and tells us in his German accent, "Just follow me we will cut in line, people here are too high to notice what we're doing, and if they do you just say, it's cool bra!" He knows west coast. We cut in line about 6 people back. Eli and the rest of our crew come outside looking for us. They cut in line too, still, no one says anything. Just when we get to the front, the basketball team starts heading in. Celebrity VIP status, they head right in, entourage in tow. I worship these guys. They pour shots behind the bar. Brian Cardwell shakes my hand. Malcolm Thomas and Billy White are standing up on the booth seats, we all watch as Mr. Magnificent/MVP sneaks up behind them trying to fit in amongst them. (picture below) Seeing this alone could have made my trip. He also grabs Mehdi and tells him he can't wait to see him in the NBA. When someone asks if he'd like a picture taken with him he says, "I got this" and one arms a photo with him like they were BFFs. Priceless. Eli tells us we should probably go because Ed is driving us home and he's waiting in the car. News to me and the rest of us. I have no idea how long he's been waiting but realize it has been quite a while since I saw him last. We end the night with a lesson in drunk driving. I also witness my first no hands over a speed bump. Thank you, Ed.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlphy5IZiYyvj8DoVu3gxwrEGY1lQORd46imnUWqXeUf1J_boqxD94akqIwwSoYRvagwPVzDue_cF039pi7vAvJWo4DRaC7WECGcaA4OO6JhCYHd7y-cpZafg3rw3QNagC-IBpCkOk34w/s1600/197047_717966452628_31706586_38738810_7410117_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlphy5IZiYyvj8DoVu3gxwrEGY1lQORd46imnUWqXeUf1J_boqxD94akqIwwSoYRvagwPVzDue_cF039pi7vAvJWo4DRaC7WECGcaA4OO6JhCYHd7y-cpZafg3rw3QNagC-IBpCkOk34w/s200/197047_717966452628_31706586_38738810_7410117_n.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this guy...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>To be Continued...Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-74373896727237141232011-01-15T18:53:00.000-08:002011-01-15T18:53:34.733-08:00the inability to change or achieve somethingThe countdown begins. 5 days until I start my first day of my last year of school. I thought I'd never get here, and now that I'm so close, it feels like time just flew by. I remember sitting in Mrs. Harris's 6th grade classroom wondering what college will be like. It seemed so mysterious to me then, so confusing. How do you know which one you will go to? What kind of classes do you take? What's a major? I told myself to think back to that moment when I had it figured out. I went to West Chester University. I took a bunch of bullshit classes, and a major is in one way or another a career path; and although I may know what a major is, I still don't know what I'm doing with it. So, one important question remains; What are you going to do when your done with school? It's the age old question that has it's way of working itself into every conversation, and I have no response. My Aunt Diana told me that I should think of my interests when trying to come up with a career choice. First thing that came to mind; beer. Ok, so I could drink beer 5 days a week for 8 hours? Sounds like my livers not going to like me very much. Maybe sell beer? Boring, and requires no education. Make beer? Hell no. On to the next one. I enjoy writing, and kids, maybe I could write a childrens book? Eh, I'd rather do that as a side job, or a hobby even. I love music, I could critque that. Maybe manage a band? Work for a record company? Bleh! My mind is seriously about to explode. It's too frustrating to even think of the possibilities. The list seems infinite. The only things I know for sure are I do not want to stay here, and I'm still not ready for the real world. I'm done with this post, I'm going to go scream in a pillow.<br />
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"Back to school, back to school, to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool."-Billy MadisonDani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-84852588957768175702011-01-11T16:06:00.000-08:002011-01-12T05:08:24.681-08:00judgement dayHave you ever walked in a room and felt like everyone was talking about you just before you got there? That's how I feel every time I walk into a Catholic Church. I get a sense that the entire congregation has a 'holier than thou' attitude towards me. Their eyes pierce through me as if to strip me down and reveal my sins. Some people may say I have these negative feelings towards the church because I have my own guilt about not being an avid pursuer of God, some may say I should feel guilty walking into a Catholic church unbaptised and unconfirmed, and some may say screw the church. Whatever the opinion, it doesn't help the stress that overcomes me while sitting in a pew. <br />
<br />
The reason I put myself through this every so often is because my boyfriend, or my boyfriends family rather, are devout Catholics. When I go to visit him on a Sunday, it's mandatory that we go to church. Well, my boyfriend says it's not mandatory, but I'd look like a piece of shit if I was sitting at his house alone watching Sunday morning cartoons in my PJ's while the rest of the family was out praying. So, to make him and his family happy, which I have no problem doing, I drag myself out of bed to be gawked at.<br />
<br />
This past Sunday in particular was hellish, pun intended. My boyfriend and I went to the 11:15 service(his parents went to the earlier one.) I followed him through the stained glass doors like a lost puppy. He dipped his fingers in the holy water and crossed himself as we entered the church . I stood there and watched. We walked to the nearest pew where he knelt down and crossed himself again. I stood there and watched, again. At this point I'm usually getting murderous stares.<br />
<br />
The service began, and for the first time since I've gone to his church the priest came through each aisle and doused the congregation in holy water with some kind of silver spoon, I later found out this was because it was the day Christ was baptised. Of course I was at the end of the pew, where the water was clearly hitting the hardest. When he got to where I was I think he could see the fear in my eyes. He re-dipped the "spoon" wound up his arm and threw the water at me like he was friggin' Cliff Lee. The shower hit me like a ton of bricks and two thoughts instantly popped into my mind, one being the Incubus concert I'd gone to a few years ago where they hosed us down because of the extreme heat, and two that I was going to melt. The unfortunate thing is, this wasn't the worst of it. I had to sit through endless hymms sung by possible 'American Idol' rejects, a sermon about birth control, and communion, which doesn't seem so bad until you see the rest of the church standing in line to get the body and blood of christ while I'm still sitting down.<br />
<br />
I don't want anyone to get the impression that I despise the Catholic Church and it's teachings. I just feel that nobody has the right to judge me but God himself. So, instead of ostrasizing me from the religion they should be willing to show me why I want to be a part of it.<br />
<br />
Fun Fact: my name means "judged by God"Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-24074267855077362812011-01-02T19:11:00.000-08:002011-01-02T19:11:40.751-08:00'cause tomorrows just another day, and I don't believe in timeI'd like to start by apologizing, mostly to myself, for not posting these last few days. <br />
<br />
It's the holidays, sue me.<br />
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<br />
<br />
No complaints for 2010. I read through my Facebook "news feed" on NYE wondering why every f-ing persons status read something like "2010 sucked, bring on 2011!" or, "Can't wait for this year to be over." If anything I want to turn back time. What's so great about another year gone by? Why should we celebrate gray hair, wrinkles, loss of sight/hearing/bladder control, and reality television taking over the world? It's just another year closer to death. Morbid, I know, but maybe I'm onto something here. We should start boycotting the holiday and go back another year instead. I suppose that's a bit unreasonable, but seriously, what's the rush? Aren't there like a million cliche's out there telling us "life's too short."<br />
<br />
I may be going in another direction by saying this, but isn't it such a bitch that when we are kids all we want to do is be a "grown-up" and when we are adults all we want to do is live like a kid again? (I want to emphasize the words 'live like a kid' because I now know what alcohol tastes like and what sex feels like and I couldn't give that up.)<br />
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I can't be alone in my opinions here. Don't get me wrong, yes, I want a family, and a house, and all the other wonderful things that come with adulthood, but I don't need it right now. I'm content with slowing things down for a while. Why speed up the inevitable? I'll get there some day.<br />
<br />
I think these thoughts stemmed from a conversation with my mom I had just before the new year. <br />
<br />
She said, "Weird, it's going to be 1/1/11, we will never see that again, hm, 2/2/22, oh my god, Dani, you will be in your 30's."<br />
<br />
Instant depression.<br />
<br />
Anyway, happy new year.<br />
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"You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying about the future."Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-3234921168007276212010-12-20T19:09:00.000-08:002010-12-20T19:09:05.170-08:00should old acquaintence be forgot?As chaotic as my life is, and as uncontrollable as my thoughts are, I'm still an organized person. My room at college was for the most part, immaculate. That being said, I moved back in with my parents a few months ago and walked into a cluster fuck. There was everything from newspaper clippings of my glory days as a basketball player and high school theater performer, to rubber bands balls, pogs, loose change, N*sync cassette tapes, posters of my favorite bands from 6th grade, Halloween costumes, shoes and clothes that I've never even seen or just refuse to say I owned, American Girl doll clothes...you name it, it was probably there.<br />
<br />
After looking at the mess piled up in my closet everyday since August, I decided to take on the challenge of rummaging through my past endeavors in hopes that it would bring back good memories, and make me feel accomplished.<br />
<br />
I pulled out boxes upon boxes stuffed with years worth of goodies. I couldn't believe how much I had collected over time.<br />
<br />
Countless hours later, I was finally down to the last of it. I could not wait to be done. I could taste the end.<br />
I pulled the worn box toward me and began tossing copies of 'Seventeen' magazine from 2002 into the trash pile, all the while laughing at the cover pictures.<br />
<br />
My mood changed quickly when I discovered a plastic bag hiding near the bottom of the clutter. It was filled with pictures of me and one of my great friends from high school who I had lost touch with. It was alarming to see how differently we looked and how much I'd forgotten. I had flashbacks of all the fun we had together, and instantly regretted distancing myself. There was never a falling out, or anything of that nature. We just got disconnected.<br />
<br />
Oddly enough, later that evening she called me. We met in town for drinks and picked up exactly where we left off. As different as we are now, our friendship is completely unchanged. I'm so excited to see where the new year takes us.<br />
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So, to answer my own question. No, I don't believe our old acquaintances should be forgotten. And, if they are and you stumble upon them in a cluster fuck, and they don't happen to call you that same day, you should definitely call them. Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-45880128716261148772010-12-18T16:07:00.000-08:002010-12-18T16:07:11.821-08:00if you run...Ugh, just what I needed, another "romcom" to make me feel like my relationship situation sucks a fatty. Screw you 'Going the Distance' with Drew Barrymore and Justin Long! Despite the fact that I actually enjoyed it; it made me think way to much. In case you didn't know, the film is about a couple trying to make a long distance relationship work. He's in New York...she's in Cali...you get it. I, being in a long distance relationship myself, couldn't help but see certain similarities between my boyfriend(Mike) and myself and the on/off-screen couple. Although me and Mike are only about 2 hours apart, it's still challenging to find time to see each other and talk on the phone. For the most part our work schedules are completely opposite, and when we do get a minute to call one another it's always the same conversation.<br />
<br />
Me-"Hey Babe, what's up?"<br />
Boyfriend-"Nothing, driving to work."<br />
Me-"Yeah"<br />
(2 min. of me singing to whatever I'm listening to on my ipod...which @ the moment is Boxer Rebellion)<br />
Boyfriend-"What are you doing?"<br />
Me-"Just about home from work."<br />
Boyfriend-"Cool, what are you doing later?"<br />
Me-"Not sure yet." (Unless it's Wednesday...Trivia night)<br />
Boyfriend-"Ok, well, I'm just about at work so I'll call you when I leave."<br />
Me-"Ok, sounds good, hopefully I won't be sleeping."(usually I am)<br />
Boyfriend-"Alright, I love you."<br />
Me-"I love you too."<br />
Bye......Bye....<br />
<br />
Seriously, it's disgusting how accurate that is.<br />
<br />
Let me just add that as unstimulated as our conversations may be, and as minimal as our face time is, we are still so in love. That's what makes our situation all the more difficult.<br />
<br />
As I watched the movie, I couldn't stop thinking about our future as a couple. We have been together over four years now, and even though neither of us are ready to get hitched, it would still be nice to take a step in that direction. Thoughts continued to rush through my brain. We could move in together? Ok, I have to finish my last year of school first. He could move here with me? Eh, he has a good job and I don't want him to have to worry about getting a new one, and paying for an apartment that I'm not going to be able to contribute anything to because I'm a full time student. Is it really going to be another year until we can settle down together? I don't know...maybe even longer if I can't find a job right out of school. Wait, what if I find a great job even further away from him than I am now, and he's content where he is? Shit, then one of us is going to have to compromise. I talked way to much about compromising in polisci; compromising is no good. I wonder if he thinks about this too? Probably not, you're crazy, you're answering your own questions...isn't that when you know you've gone off the deep end? <br />
<br />
Fuck.<br />
<br />
After the credits and a few tears, I blocked out all thoughts of the future, except one.<br />
<br />
<br />
If he runs.....?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4R2bKaXmstg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472539412577639906.post-69618175105589141652010-12-16T17:27:00.000-08:002010-12-16T17:27:40.519-08:00the hangover helperToday I woke up at 6:27am to the unpleasent feeling of my brain pulsating against my skull. I don't know if that's what's really going on when you have a migraine, but that's what it felt like. With every step I took to find my purse where the advil was hidding I cursed the pint of Magic Hat #9 and 2 Blue Moons I <strike>inhaled</strike> consumed the night before. Barley able to open my eyes, I dropped to my knees searching blindly for the white bag that my mom ever so kindly told me was out of season.("you can't wear white after labor day, Dani!") After what seemed to be an eternity plus 5 minutes; I found my precious. Forcefully inserting my hand inside, I scrounged up 3 dusty, lipgloss-covered pills. Eureka. Only problem was I had nothing to chase them with, and since I just got over my fear of choking on pills 3 years ago I couldn't stomach the idea of doing a "dry swallow." So, I gave myself a quick pep talk, peeled my lifeless body of the floor and continued on to the bathroom where I popped all 3 pills and slurped them down with a few gulps of well water straight from the faucet. Yum. This was going to be a great day. I could feel it in my brain :)Dani Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08251583338980249629noreply@blogger.com0