<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:52:51.717-05:00</updated><category term='facebook'/><category term='Subway. Groundhog'/><category term='Will Ferrell'/><category term='Decade'/><category term='Nonsense'/><category term='hello'/><category term='boredom'/><category term='Thai Food'/><category term='Antimatter'/><category term='Parodies'/><category term='NYC'/><category term='Logic'/><category term='Thanks'/><category term='Crooklyn'/><category term='smells'/><category term='subways'/><category term='Chalk Incident'/><category term='New Years Eve'/><category term='Bad Decisions'/><category term='Crazy People'/><category term='Train'/><category term='Life'/><category term='laser eyes'/><category term='Boogie-Down'/><category term='Laziness'/><category term='Morgellons'/><category term='Lists'/><category term='Sleepy Mary'/><category term='feet'/><title type='text'>Quite Contrary</title><subtitle type='html'>I entertain myself. I'm not very entertaining. That's why I'm often bored. And so this blog was born.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-8971961489778761755</id><published>2011-06-28T00:00:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T01:05:40.943-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tha Crossroads...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Yes my lovelies, I am at a crossroads. Not the Bone-Thugs-N-Harmony, Dead-Uncle-Charles, Devil--Is-Really-A-Diesel-Angel kind, but in the career-and-life-path kind.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ugh. The truth is...I do not know what to do! I know, I can be a wee bit indecisive at times (Ahem!Did I hear a snort from one of you?? Yeah. I thought so.) Anyway, I also happen to cringe at the thought of change. So...even though I'm not exactly happy where I am, the thought of change is like...WHOA! I've been at the same place for five years, and for someone who doesn't like change, I sure have done a lot of it in these five years. Yet...the crossroads is here, and I am looking to see which direction I should take. But at rough as it is now, I wouldn't trade the past five years for anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I bring to you...The Top 5 Things About My Time at JA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The PEOPLE. I have met some of the most awesome people at this place. Some of those people I only knew a short time, others are relationships I will treasure forever. :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The street cred. Hell yeah it feels badass to be able to describe what I do for a living, and where I do it. Call it a Napoleon complex, but I like the toughness image it gives me. It's like Dangerous Minds but without Coolio. Or Weird Al Yankovic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The experience with those damn Regents exams! Teaching Regents courses intimidated the hell out of me when I started, but I've actually developed a bit of a knack for it. Not bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. The kids. Yes, some of them made me want to quit, pull my hair out, and join a nunnery all at once. But others were pretty awesome kids who will hopefully go on to become pretty awesome adults. Those are the ones I like to focus on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and finally...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. THE PEOPLE. I had to mention you guys again, because there were so many days that you made coming to work worthwhile. In the past five years I have laughed and cried and sang and danced and complained and hated and loved with you. We ate (okay&lt;b&gt; I&lt;/b&gt; ate) and drank (okay, that was mostly you guys). Some relationships started, while others ended. New babies were born, and we had to say some tearful goodbyes. We visited each other's homes, met each other's families, became staples in each other's lives. If I stay at JA or not...and if you stay there or not...I am glad and proud to have spent this time with you and I hope the memories won't stay within the confines of the school building, but rather continue in our actual lives. Thanks for it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EFwUzXugsn8/Tgld_mpIaaI/AAAAAAAAADE/Ge-SlQcbZ-w/s1600/BLUE%2BHAIR%2B007.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: right;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EFwUzXugsn8/Tgld_mpIaaI/AAAAAAAAADE/Ge-SlQcbZ-w/s200/BLUE%2BHAIR%2B007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623128957034981794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YSDQvDls03E/Tgld_MTTmjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/CfZ66KB1xGc/s1600/31.bmp" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YSDQvDls03E/Tgld_MTTmjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/CfZ66KB1xGc/s200/31.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623128949964118578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dGdzq5KMvI0/Tgld-6LY8UI/AAAAAAAAAC0/buJk1y-rqJs/s1600/Coworkers2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dGdzq5KMvI0/Tgld-6LY8UI/AAAAAAAAAC0/buJk1y-rqJs/s200/Coworkers2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623128945099075906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6qB8d4XTiH0/Tgld-nK4ZJI/AAAAAAAAACs/pYGE2eeA3sU/s1600/21.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6qB8d4XTiH0/Tgld-nK4ZJI/AAAAAAAAACs/pYGE2eeA3sU/s200/21.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623128939996669074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ua-SVCG_lr4/Tgld9tbR9LI/AAAAAAAAACk/9rfUSy3t730/s1600/Prom%2B2010%2B012.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ua-SVCG_lr4/Tgld9tbR9LI/AAAAAAAAACk/9rfUSy3t730/s200/Prom%2B2010%2B012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623128924496196786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-8971961489778761755?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/8971961489778761755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2011/06/tha-crossroads.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/8971961489778761755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/8971961489778761755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2011/06/tha-crossroads.html' title='Tha Crossroads...'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EFwUzXugsn8/Tgld_mpIaaI/AAAAAAAAADE/Ge-SlQcbZ-w/s72-c/BLUE%2BHAIR%2B007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-969601369706015289</id><published>2011-05-22T10:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T12:08:14.906-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow I suck at this...</title><content type='html'>Heylo party people. Since SOOOOO many people have been requesting that I dust off the ol' blogarooni and post something in here...well, here ya go. Happy now?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, nobody requested that. I was just bored and happened to remember I had a blog. But I like thinking I have fans...makes me feel important.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway...since this blog seems to be a bit list-heavy, I thought I'd continue the trend. Also...since I suck so badly at remembering to post a blog, I thought I'd keep that theme going and make the list about...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Top Five Things I Suck At&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(This should be GREAT for the ol' self-esteem!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;1. Making Indian food. I don't know what it is about garam masala &amp;amp; me but we just can NOT work together in peace and harmony. I want soooo badly to make chicken tikka masala in the comfort of my own home, but every time I try, the results get worse. This was a doomed love affair that was never meant to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;2. Hacky sack. I spent the better part of my high school years hacky sacking. I wanted to hear "hey...that chick that rocks at hacky sack" as I walked through the hallways, strutting my stuff. Okay, I don't really strut, nor do I have "stuff," but you get the idea. Alas, it was not to be. I'll get maybe two or three good kicks in a round, but that's where the dream ends...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;3. Navigating. If you know me at all, I'm sure you'll agree. My sense of direction is so bad that...I don't even know where I'm going with this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Get it???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"Where I'm going..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Is this thing on??? *tap tap tap*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Annnnnyway, back to our regularly scheduled list-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;4. Swimming. To be fair, I think I COULD be good at this if I was willing to submerge my head in water, but alas...I am not. I DID, however, take a class that markedly improved my skills in this area. Shout out to Passionately Random, my partner-in-swimming-crime! &lt;a href="http://passionatelyrandom.blogspot.com/?zx=a1ee5970e4f6aa33"&gt;http://passionatelyrandom.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;5. Demo lessons. They freak me out! I hate having someone watch me, judge me when teaching. The lesson planning process alone for a demo lesson is enough to send me into a panic attack. Good thing I'm not applying to get a new job anytime soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;...or AM I???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Anyhow, there's my list. Just to add, I actually started this list May 22, and only got back to it today...proving that I suck at posting on this blog above all else. In addition, I KNOW I had more interesting things to write about back then, but I can't remember them for the life of me. I still felt the need to wrap this baby up, so here it is. My half-assed blog entry...my first in 2011...but hopefully not the only. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But I make no guarantees. I know, I suck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-969601369706015289?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/969601369706015289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2011/05/wow-i-suck-at-this.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/969601369706015289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/969601369706015289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2011/05/wow-i-suck-at-this.html' title='Wow I suck at this...'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-3834420941613818233</id><published>2010-08-08T10:42:00.024-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T14:11:22.191-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parodies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lists'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bad Decisions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nonsense'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Will Ferrell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Logic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morgellons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Antimatter'/><title type='text'>Don't Call It a Comeback...</title><content type='html'>Hola, Senors and Senoritas! (I am fully aware that I am missing the little upside-down exclamation mark thingie and the "n" with the tilde in this sentence, but I don't know how to do it, so...sue me. This is the internet, people. Get over it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my. That was a bit aggressive, no? How rude of me, that is no way to treat my lovely luscious little blog readers (yes, that's right...all two of you. Hi mom.), especially when I've been M.I.A. for, like, ever. (I could just look up how long it's been since my last post, but...meh. In unrelated news, I seem to really be into parentheses today. Groovy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, how are ya, folks? I've been a wee bit busy in the last few moon cycles with life and stuff. I mountain climbed K2 in February (the "Savage Mountain." That's right), wrote my third novel to be published next month entitled "How the Crap Did I End Up Here?", travelled to Madagascar to study the critically endangered Golden Bamboo Lemur (cute little suckers), and baked countless batches of oatmeal raisin cookies. What about you guys? Whatcha been up to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, those &lt;em&gt;may&lt;/em&gt; have been lies. Although I did see lemurs at the Bronx Zoo this week, and they really are cute little suckers. And I ATE batches of oatmeal raisin cookies. But...yeah, I embellished a tad. Forgive me. What I HAVE NOT been up to, obviously, is blogging. That is because 1. I'm lazy, and 2. I haven't really had anything to say. Nothing that seemed postworthy anyway. Anything I &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; want to say, I wrapped up in a short, cryptic yet dramatic Facebook Post. But not today! Today, I present to you folks...A NEW LIST! *cue cheers* You know how I love lists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that in my recent past I have been making a LOT of decisions that simply don't make sense. I know this, yet I make these decisions anyway. Friends, family, and the local homeless man who calls me "Peaches" have all questioned my decision-making skills, but I stand by my decisions because, well, sometimes a girl is gonna do things that don't make sense. The whole rest of the world can know that the decisions are wrong, (heck even &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; know they are wrong), but the heart will do things that the brain cannot comprehend. It's perfectly natural, and to prove this, I behold unto you a list of crap that simply doesn't make sense...but is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;List of Crap That Doesn't Make Sense, But Is.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I really didn't need the "List of" there, but it just felt natural)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Antimatter.&lt;/strong&gt; If the Big Bang theory supposedly created equal amounts of matter and antimatter, why didn't the two immediately cancel each other out, resulting in a cease of the existence of the universe? If you can answer this in 350 words or less without using the word "quarks," you get a cookie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Braille on Drive-Through ATMs.&lt;/strong&gt; Okay, I figure that it's probably more cost-effective to mass produce ONE type of ATM and just shove 'em anywhere, but that doesn't stop me from "WTFing" every time I see this. So, yeah, this one has a reason, but I'm listing it anyway. Again, sue me, suckas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Morgellon's Disease&lt;/strong&gt;. I read an article once on this condition and it bugged me out. Sufferers complain of crawling and stinging sensations on the skin, and fibers sprouting out of lesions all over their bodies. Supposedly, this disease is a delusional psychological condition, however, sample fibers taken from patients do not match any manmade or plant based fibers known to man. Basically, it would really suck to have this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Will Ferrell's Career&lt;/strong&gt;. Seriously??? I don't get it. He's no looker, his films aren't even marginally funny, and he seems obnoxious in interviews. Aside from his Trebek impersonations on SNL, he hasn't impressed me one bit. Why is he famous? The world may never know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Walmart only sells edited music, but sells R-rated movies. &lt;/strong&gt;This one doesn't really need an explanation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Nocebo Effect&lt;/strong&gt;. A placebo is administered, but the patient suffers from real effects as if the actual drug was given. Basically the reverse of a placebo effect, where the patient's symptoms improve after being given an inert pill. The power of the human brain is, like, whoa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jack Black's Career*&lt;/strong&gt;. See Item #4. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reality Television&lt;/strong&gt;. From &lt;em&gt;The Real World&lt;/em&gt; to &lt;em&gt;The Bad Girls' Club&lt;/em&gt; and every which way in between, this phenomenon has taken over American TV. I'm guilty of succumbing to it myself, particularly through competition-style shows or home renovation shows, but the vast majority of them are just pure crap...and Americans sop it all up with a biscuit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The term "I slept like a baby." &lt;/strong&gt;Now, I've been around a baby or two, and those little buggers just do NOT sleep well at all. They wake up every hour or two, usually screaming at the top of their itty bitty lungs for something or another. Who came up with this saying? It certainly wasn't a parent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;ol&gt;and finally....*drum roll*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;Parody/Spoof Films.&lt;/strong&gt; Sigh. Why is this novelty not dead and buried yet? What &lt;em&gt;Scary Movie&lt;/em&gt; are we on now...37?&lt;em&gt; Not Another Teen Movie&lt;/em&gt;? &lt;em&gt;Epic Movie&lt;/em&gt;? I saw the commercial for &lt;em&gt;Vampires Suck&lt;/em&gt; recently and my heart broke for filmmakers and writers everywhere who actually have an ORIGINAL IDEA, yet have to sit idly by while producers fund these crappy spoofs. When a film actually has the title &lt;em&gt;Not Another Not Another Movie, &lt;/em&gt;you know the trend should be over.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So there you have it, folks. The world doesn't make sense. And I am in the world. Therefore, I do not make sense. It is perfectly illogical logic, you see. I'm pretty sure deductive reasoning can prove that reason doesn't exist and I could get all existential on you folks, but I already put &lt;strong&gt;way&lt;/strong&gt; too much time into this blog entry that nobody will read, so at this point I bid you all a fond adieu. Peace out, suckas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Addendum: Please note that I had plans to include a bunch of other actors and various celebrities whose careers I simply don't understand...Kirsten Dunst, Andy Dick, and the entire extended Kardashian clan for example, but then this list would have become a &lt;strong&gt;"Celebrities Who Shouldn't Be"&lt;/strong&gt; list...which is a task unto itself. Thank you for your understanding. Management.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-3834420941613818233?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/3834420941613818233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2010/08/dont-call-it-comeback.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/3834420941613818233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/3834420941613818233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2010/08/dont-call-it-comeback.html' title='Don&apos;t Call It a Comeback...'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-8492849914339861204</id><published>2009-12-31T11:45:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T15:41:47.762-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Years Eve'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Decade'/><title type='text'>Another Decade Gone...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="ms__id79"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Szz-tC8Hg5I/AAAAAAAAACI/GpEemdz6bFo/s1600-h/New+Years+Mary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421488101283824530" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Szz-tC8Hg5I/AAAAAAAAACI/GpEemdz6bFo/s320/New+Years+Mary.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="ms__id78"&gt;I have now lived through &lt;em&gt;three&lt;/em&gt; decades in my lifetime, the '80s, '90s and whatever you'd call the last ten years (2000s? 00s? In ten years nobody has been able to clear that up for me). I remember when the new millenium hit, and everyone thought something &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;big&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; would happen! Something &lt;strong&gt;HUGE&lt;/strong&gt;! &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;SOMETHING CATASTROPHICALLY INCREDIBLE&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!!!!! And it didn't. Well, not at that moment, anyway. But I can certainly think of PLENTY of things that have happened in the last ten years that have quite possibly made this as-yet-unnamed decade to be my favorite thusfar. So in honor of the last ten years, and the fact that we are about to enter the year Two Thousand and ten, and I started dating my husband on the tenth day of the tenth month, and we married on January tenth, and my favorite album is Pearl Jam's TEN, and some guy up the block has a license plate that just says "Ten," here's a list of the &lt;strong&gt;TOP TEN IMPORTANT MOMENTS OF MY LIFE IN THE PAST DECADE&lt;/strong&gt;! In a kinda-chronological order: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I became a teacher. I chose a career path in 2000-2001. I was not planning on going into education, mom was a teacher and I was NOT gonna do that! Kids? Bleh! They annoyed the tar out of me, were rude, smelly, boring...teaching was NOT for me! I was gonna be some kinda sports something or other...a writer, publicist, SOMETHING. I was even taking Mass Communication classes to get the ball rolling. But somehow things worked out differently than I planned. And so far, so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I graduated from college. I wasn't a big fan of Iona, so finishing it was the best part of the whole ordeal. And I wrote TWO thesis papers that final year as well, while taking classes and student teaching. Suckadoodle. But then it was all over as of May 2002. After four years, I was DONE. Most people I know look back at their college years as their glory days, the best times of their lives. Not this chickadee, no sirree, I was ready to close the door on that chapter of my life, letting the door hit me on the ass on the way out. Goodbye, Iona, hello real world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I got married. That was, you know, kinda huge. We had been together for 6 years at that point, but marriage brought our relationship to a new level. I didn't expect to get engaged in college, and was so excited that it would finally happen! We married, we moved in together, I became a grown-up. Well, as grown-up as I'll ever be, I suppose. I learned to cook, pay bills, we went on vacations, etc. etc. etc. Plus I got to wear a big, pretty dress and be the center of attention for a whole day, which was sweet. Too bad I didn't include wedding karaoke though...that would've been kickass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I taught at Holy Cross for 4 years. ALOT of stuff stemmed from those four years. I learned how to actually BE a teacher (no classes ever quite prepare you for that). It was my first full-time job, so for the first time in my life I had money that I could actually SPEND and didn't have to put it right into tuition bills. I wanted to quit at times early on...not only that job, but teaching in general, but I found out I was alot stronger than I thought I was and kept truckin' on. I had some realy great times there, the trips, the proms, the shows, the STUDENTS! :-) Most importantly, I made lifelong friends here. Without those friends, I would not have stayed at HCS for that long. Without those friends I would not have gotten through a lot of other things in my life. Without those friends, I would have missed out on a lot of laughter. Without those friends, this decade would have been much, much, MUCH more boring. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. MERLIN!!! I never thought I'd have a pet, it was just not my thing (the care, the cleaning, the smell, the expense, blah blah blah). I wasn't an animal person, I was the one the dogs would jump up to and I'd run the heck away screaming. I didn't pet animals, and if I somehow had to, I washed my hands IMMEDIATELY. Animals kind of grossed me out. Then this gray little furball came down from Heaven and meowed himself into our lives. Our world has not been the same since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I got my master's degree. I debated whether or not I should do this (Did I WANT to deal with kids all my life? Did I WANT to eventually make some sort of respectable salary? Did I WANT to possibly be some high powered lawyer/businessperson/lady who wears power suits and has her own office and assistant? Maybe, maybe, and maybe.) After some encouragement from the people mentioned in #s 3 &amp;amp; 4, I went through with it. Man, I despised going to those classes, I hated doing the papers, I felt nauseous thinking about sitting in class for hours, I dreaded registration time and I counted the freaking &lt;em&gt;minutes&lt;/em&gt; until it was finally all over, but once it was done, what a relief! To this day, I hate driving up the Mosholu because it reminds me of those days...*shudder*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="ms__id80"&gt;7. I moved into a REAL apartment! My parents renovated the place and I no longer had to live in a basement apartment where all my friends had to duck just to get into the front door. (Seriously, there was a low pipe in the kitchen that our plumber cracked his noggin on more than a few times. I'm suprised homeboy didn't get a concussion) I pretty much picked out everything, all the fixtures, colors, tiles, etc. Of course, we lived in the basement of building as it was being renovated, which was , ah, interesting. Three floods, no heat, countless blackouts and a fire later, it was finito. This was some project, but I'm very grateful for the opportunity, and now I love my cute little digs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="ms__id81"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="ms__id82"&gt;8. I changed jobs. This was big and kind of unexpected...if you know me at all, then you know how I LOATHE change, and this change would be a doozie. I was toying with the idea of leaving HCS for about a year, but didn't think I'd go through with it because, well, Holy Cross was my comfort zone. The day of my interview, I got lost finding the place (shocker), was sweating up a storm in the ONE suit I owned (nothing like a cool, calm &amp;amp; collected first impression), and seriously was not sure I could handle ANY of the following : A) Public School, B) High School, C) Teaching to Regents Exams, and D) A South Bronx School (well, south-ish, for those people who are being nit-picky). Somehow I was told I had the job, I didn't say "No Thanks" right away and ended up with A,B,C AND D all at once. Whoa squared. I felt like I didn't have much choice, this was where my life was supposed to head. It was difficult at first, but all jobs are, and since then I think I've done pretty well for myself (Dental Coverage!!! Health Insurance with Vision? And I finally got that office-even though it's pink! WOOT!!!). In addition, I've met MORE friends who I've had &lt;strong&gt;such&lt;/strong&gt; a blast with in the past four years. I imagine these friendships will also prove to pass the test of time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I got sick. I'm trying to keep this list positive, but this was a pretty major thing that I can't leave out, and it does have a happy ending. Test after test after test showed the doctors nothing except "there's something wrong...but we don't know what." &lt;em&gt;Thanks, doc, glad I'm paying you the big bucks.&lt;/em&gt; I could have easily fallen into a very dark place, but thanks to all of the people around me, I got through it feeling stronger than before. Not sure what the future holds here, but so far so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;strong&gt;I can't decide on a 10th item&lt;/strong&gt;. I know, I promised you TEN! Ten years, Jan. 10th, Pearl Jam, etc., but fact is there are so many other things, events, and people who have influenced my life in the past decade that I can't decide what to put here and what else to leave out. So instead, I'll take #10 to say thanks to all those who have contributed to making my life what it is on this day, December 31, 2009. May the next ten years kick even more ass :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-8492849914339861204?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/8492849914339861204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/12/another-decade-gone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/8492849914339861204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/8492849914339861204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/12/another-decade-gone.html' title='Another Decade Gone...'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Szz-tC8Hg5I/AAAAAAAAACI/GpEemdz6bFo/s72-c/New+Years+Mary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-6982390932740189584</id><published>2009-11-14T13:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T10:17:58.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuff That I Don’t Like but Everyone Else Seems to Adore: A List</title><content type='html'>To all my fans, sorry I have been too busy to blog lately, but I'm back with a new installment, so rejoice! Anybody...? Hello? Is this thing on? &lt;em&gt;*tap tap tap*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh...anyway. I was bored and made a list today. I enjoy lists, they ground me, they make me feel like I have accomplishments, goals, and organization in my life. Or something. Well, as much as I like lists, I realized that there are many, many things in this world that I &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dis&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;like. As a result, I decided to compile a list of some of those things. This is not a "Top Ten" list, it's more of a "First 10 Things That Came to My Mind" list, but whatever. Here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Coffee. Being a teacher, this is nearly sacrilegious. I just never got into it. I don’t really like the smell at all and I certainly don’t need it to jumpstart my day the way some people seem to have the need to take it intravenously every morning. I’ve tried the flavored ones, regular, light, dark, iced, etc…but nothing does it for me. If I want a warm beverage, I’ll reach for tea, or hot chocolate if I’m in the mood. Or a white hot chocolate from Dunkin Donuts…those suckers are the bomb-diggity. They taste like a hot liquid marshmallow and have enough sugar to send me to the moon and back. Interestingly, I’m a fan of coffee ice cream, even though I’m not that wild about ice cream in general…go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Dogs. &lt;em&gt;*dodges the rotten tomatoes that are being hurled in my direction*&lt;/em&gt; I mean, some of them are cool, but in general, I am not a fan. Large dogs scare me and small ones irritate me (except for that cutie-patootie on the Cesar Dog Food cans!). I know I’m not making a lot of fans here, but I’m just telling it like it is, folks. And the idea of having a “Toby’s new Trick” moment on my carpet one day doesn’t help matters. If you’ve seen the commercial, you know what I mean. And I don’t even HAVE carpeting. I know I’m gonna hear about this one later…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Tiramisu. Yes, I know, I’m Italian, but I also don’t drink wine and dislike most olives, which is why the I-Ti United Club has been hounding me to give in my membership card for years now. Plus, they found out I don’t speaka the Italiano very mucho. Anyway, I don’t know what it is about the sogginess or flavor of tiramisu that turns me off instantly, but it does. That’s probably good because I have enough food vices as it is, now pass me a cannoli, per favore…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;strong&gt;The Office&lt;/strong&gt;. As in, the television show. I just…don’t get it. Same with &lt;strong&gt;30 Rock&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;Curb Your Enthusiasm&lt;/strong&gt; and...well, I could list SO many more TV shows here, but I’m a very busy woman and I haven’t got all day (name that film/song!), so I’ll leave it at that. But yeah, not feeling it. (By the way, I never realized what an odd word "Enthusiasm" was until I just typed it. The "siasm" is totally throwing me for a loop. But I digress.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Basketball. It actually makes me very, very angry for some reason. Despite my vertically-challenged status, I actually don’t mind &lt;em&gt;playing&lt;/em&gt; basketball, but the NBA just incites a burning hatred inside me for reasons unknown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Michelle Obama. This is not a politically-related dig in the slightest, as I’m referring to her fashion-symbol status and not her affairs of state. She’s in every freakin’ frackin’ fashion magazine, they praise her outfits ALL the time, and I just don’t see it. I think her style is lackluster, the fit of her clothes is often poor, and she sort of looks like the Joker. And she seems to feel the need to belt EVERYTHING! What is THAT about?!? I think Barack could’ve done better, to be perfectly frank, but to each his own. I know some of you are snapping your fingers and saying “Oh no she di’int!” right now, but deep down, beneath the stacks of Women’s Day Magazine articles, you know it’s true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Muffins. Blueberry-gag. Bran-blech. Banana-dry heave. Lemon Poppy-please, make it stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Showers. Don’t get me wrong, I take them regularly, but I dislike them. Mostly because I don’t like being cold and even a hot shower involves me being cold once the water stops. Plus, I hate when my hair is wet, and it takes FOREVER to dry. Then my head is all soggy for a while. I’ve been told I look like an angry wet cat in a robe when emerging from the shower. How’s that for a sexy image?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. The sun. I mean I’m grateful for its existence, and I know that it’s integral to our survival and all that good stuff…but I don’t like being in its ray path. Firstly, I’m pale as all heck, which I totally don’t mind, but pale folk don’t usually do well in sunlight. It’s the vampiric principle. (I just totally made that up, but it sounded good, didn't it?). Secondly, my eyes are super-sensitive to bright light, it triggers migraines, etc. I don’t think there are any decent pictures of me from the ages of 8-13 because I went through a phase where my eyes would water at the mere thought of the camera flash. We went to Disney World twice when I was a young lass and in every outdoor photo, my eyes are closed so shut that the Jaws of Life couldn’t pry the lids open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Talking on the telephone. I mean, I love to talk, hoo-doggie, do I enjoy a good long gossipy chat…but on the phone? No. It makes me nervous…there is so much pressure to keep the conversation going, lest a lull shall form and, well, there’s just no recovering from a phone lull. Plus, I don’t always hear the other person clearly, and then I have to ask them to repeat themselves…and then I’m nervous that I won’t hear them the second time either, which means I’ll have to do one of the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A. Ask AGAIN, knowing the person is going to become annoyed with me quickly&lt;/strong&gt;, or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;B. Pretend I understood and hope that my lack of comprehension doesn’t become exposed during the rest of the conversation.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I choose &lt;strong&gt;A&lt;/strong&gt;, I’m taking a risk that I will STILL not hear the person and then B will be inevitable, if I choose &lt;strong&gt;B&lt;/strong&gt;, I’ll risk looking like I wasn’t paying attention and that I am a crummy person. I should take hidden option &lt;strong&gt;C. Hang up and pretend the phone call got cut off.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is, folks, a list of 10 things I don't like even though everyone else seems to. And there are plenty more...alcohol and gambling get honorable mentions, but I wasn't in the mood to go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just thinking, perhaps some of you feel the same way and also dislike a few of these items but have just been too shy or embarrassed to admit it. Well, I'm here to tell you, it's okay. I'll be there for you. You don't have to always go along with the masses for fear of being ostracized. We are all unique in this big, bad world. It's okay to be different, dammit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OR...maybe now you just think &lt;strong&gt;I'm&lt;/strong&gt; a freak and will refuse to associate with me on any level anymore. Hmm...it was the puppies thing, wasn't it? I knew that one would be my downfall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-6982390932740189584?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/6982390932740189584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/11/stuff-that-i-dont-like-but-everyone.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/6982390932740189584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/6982390932740189584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/11/stuff-that-i-dont-like-but-everyone.html' title='Stuff That I Don’t Like but Everyone Else Seems to Adore: A List'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-839832457471814192</id><published>2009-09-10T21:22:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T20:03:12.107-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Subway. Groundhog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crazy People'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chalk Incident'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Train'/><title type='text'>Crazy People and a Big Fluffy Creature</title><content type='html'>I took the subway home from work this week and ran into several situations that reminded me of why I absolutely loathe taking the subway. I hate it so much that I am considering eliminating a few people at work to open up a parking spot in the lot so I can drive to work. But I probably shouldn't have told you that...right?...forget I ever mentioned it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaanyway. Back to the crazy people on the train. There have been stories of my subway fiascos. Some, such as "The Chalk Incident," have even been dubbed legendary. Well, a new legend was almost born this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started when I started wearing high heels to work again. It had been months since I did so, and my poor dogs were CRYING after the third day. As I boarded the 5 train, I did my usual seat-scan and spotted an available seat but a man was standing in front of it. I walked over to assess the situation and the man noticed me glancing at the spot and asked if I wanted to sit. I thanked him, nestled into the spot and relaxed. I wish I could end the story there, but no. Because it was at this point that a very ghetto-looking woman with a small child of around 3 years old walked over to our area. The baby immediately began to bawl, her cries piercing the silence of the surprisingly quiet yet packed train car. The man who let me sit was reading a book and at that point, he threw his head back in exasperation and sighed...BIG MISTAKE. Ms. Ghetto Fabulous Mom-of-the-Year noticed his annoyance and threw a FIT. She started screaming that she would slap him/punch him in his mouth/rearrange his face etc. etc. etc. (she used some other choice words, but I'm keeping this a family-friendly environment here, folks). The man ignored her, so she tells her baby the cry LOUDER...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cry, chile! Cry harder den you ever did! Dis man actin' like he ain't never heard a baby cry before! Keep cryin'! Why you stoppin' girl?!? I want you to CRY!!! &lt;strong&gt;CRYYY!!!&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awwwwwkwaaaaard. The whole car was quiet and the man continued to ignore her, so she says (and this is really where it got interesting), "Yeah, Imma f*** him up first an' den Imma slap his girlfriend there right in her mouf, too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girlfriend. Hm. Wait...who??? ME?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh good gravy, why do these crazy people attract themselves to me like mosquitoes to a light source? There was no WAY I was going to have this Flava of Love Reject go off on ME, so I immediately responded, "Uh...exCUSE me?? I don't THINK so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so it wasn't my most snappy comeback, but it got the job done. She seemed to realize pretty quickly that we weren't together and started snapping on him again, leaving me alone. But still...what the hell? I must have a "Psychos Welcome" sign on my back because this is not the first time this kind of wackiness has happened to me...and I doubted it will be the last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was right. Not five minutes later, I had another incident as I exited the subway station and began walking home. Again, I'll keep this fairly family-friendly (hello, alliteration), but I will tell you that I was propositioned by a man who called me his "Sexy Snowflake." He then proceeded to say things that the FCC should bleep out and fine me for posting. Creepy random people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That reminds me...I haven't seen Peaches yet this school year! For those who don't know, Peaches is an old, homeless crack addict who hangs out near my job. He used to say hi to me in the morning and compliment me...but he was always very polite about it. He used to call ME "Peaches" and somehow I started calling HIM "Peaches" back. No reason why. I haven't seen him in a while though...hope he's ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I let you all go and you realize you just wasted the last 10 precious minutes of you life reading this nonsensical dribble, I figured I'd throw in the last strange encounter I had that same day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Big Momma and the Snowflake, I had pretty much had it with humanity and couldn't wait to curl up in the safety of my own home...with it's window bars and house alarm. But a block away from my house, I stopped in my tracks. I stood not two feet away from some kind of furry woodland creature. It was larger than my own Merlin, rodentish but was obviously not a rat (shockingly), and it was apparently up for a staring contest. After about fifteen seconds, I tried to slowly take my phone out to get a pic of my little buddy and he scurried off under a house. I had no idea what he was and when I came home, I immediately googled all of the creatures I thought it might be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gopher? No...my buddy was larger.&lt;br /&gt;Mole? Nope...and by the way, those are some scary-looking animals! (plus, doing a Google search will also provide you with images of people WITH moles. Like, on their face. Grody.)&lt;br /&gt;Hedgehog? Not so spiky.&lt;br /&gt;Beaver? Nuh-uh...the tail wasn't flat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I had a winner. He was a GROUNDHOG. I named him Gary. More than anything, I am shocked that I would run into such a critter in my neighborhood of all places. And also, I was embarrassed to realize that until this point, I pretty much had no idea what the difference was between a gopher, mole, and groundhog. And now I do. Well, sorta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the end, I ran into a bunch of losers that day, but made a new camera-shy friend. Of course, there's always the chance Gary may have rabies, but I'm sure our new friendship can overcome such a hurdle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-839832457471814192?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/839832457471814192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/09/crazy-people-and-big-fluffy-creature.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/839832457471814192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/839832457471814192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/09/crazy-people-and-big-fluffy-creature.html' title='Crazy People and a Big Fluffy Creature'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-983276045165029279</id><published>2009-09-02T18:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T19:48:44.080-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NYC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crooklyn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smells'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boogie-Down'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='subways'/><title type='text'>My Observations in NYC</title><content type='html'>Today I had to take a trip far, far away to...Brooklyn. Or as I often like to call it, Crooklyn. It was just to Court Street, which is barely a stop away from Manhattan, but it just SEEMS like so....far....awaaaaayyyyy. I'm such a crappy New Yorker. (Are Bronxites even considered New Yorkers? It's not like we live in "The City," which only ever seems to refer to Manhattan.) Going into "The City" from Da Boogie Down B-X always feels like such a chore for me, so having to go to Crooklyn today felt like a downright voyage. I spend waaaaaayyyyy more time in Westchester pretending I have money and class and stuff than in The City. Because, well, it smells. Even the nicer parts smell. And the trains, ugh. And the prices? Blah. And...well, I could go on and on, but I'm getting sidetracked here. Anyway, I met my sister for lunch later on in the great Borough of Manhattan, the most densely populated county in the U.S. of A., so I made a day out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I packed the essentials...a bottle of water, sunglasses (so it wouldn't look like I was looking at anyone on the subway), a nail file, pepper spray, a tattered Harry Potter book that I've already read 17 times. Okay, it wasn't pepper spray, it was Binaca, but I bet it would still burn if spritzed in someone's eyes so it serves the same purpose. And then I was off on my journey. My expedition. My great outing to King's County. Yippee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I tried to mind my own beeswax, but I did make some observations while sitting in that subway car for hours and hours and hours. The first observation was noted as I was trying to avoid any and all eye contact and that's why it involves the topic of...TOES. Here's the thing folks, sandals are a priviledge, not a right. If you are one of the chosen ones who are allowed to wear sandals, it should be under the pretense that you GROOM YOUR FEET. I don't want to see crusty soles with grody toenails. Why would you think this was okay??? The elderly are often the biggest offenders on this one, but today I saw a seemingly clean, barely middle aged man in a polo and khakis and sandals with the nastiest, freakiest thick gray damn toenails! I stifled a gag for goodness sakes! Man up and get a pedi, dude, or throw on some loafers! People are so nasty. Anyhoo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next observation is about those kids who come on the train with candy and say "Hey yo, Mah name is Blah McBlah and I'se sellin' candy. I ain't sellin' it fo' no basketball team or no football team, I'se sellin' it fo' mahself so I can stay outta trouble. So please buy some candy, I got sour Starburst, Skittles, Peanut M&amp;amp;M's, all a dollah so I can stay off da streets." You've got to appreciate the honesty, I suppose, but as hard as I try to sound refreshed at the startling truth, I can't help but notice these mofos are wearing sneakers that cost at LEAST three times more than my own kicks. Then while he walks away, he plugs up his ears with the headphones to his Ipod. Then I choose not to buy the damn candy, and I consider tapping into this market myself. Kid is clearly onto something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, I firmly believe that Manhattan should not be allowed to have decorative water fountain displays in places where there are no available restrooms. You see the pretty water, you hear the pretty water, you can't find a place to pee. Not nice, Mr. Bloomberg, not nice. I expect you will be speaking to your City Planner about this ASAP. K-thx-bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourth-WTF is up with the Duane Reades on every effing corner? There are CVS's, and Rite Aids, but no drugstore seems more prevalant in The City than Duane Reade. How did they even stay in business that way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, I hate how those pretzel stands smell so wonderful at noon, but by the time 5 pm rolls around, they permeate the air with the smell of burnt dirt. It's revolting. And okay, I don't really know what burnt dirt smells like, but I imagine it would be pretty much like that. The odor gets in my clothes, in my hair, and by the time I get home all I want to do is take an exfoliating shower to scrub off the grime. Maybe two showers if the first one doesn't take. Do Manhattanites become immune to this smell after a while, I wonder?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noted plenty more than those few observations, but my allergies seem to have become exacerbated by the toxic fumes of The City and unfortunately the sweet fresh Bronx air is, well, neither sweet nor fresh so it's not helping. For these reasons and the fact that I just gosh darn feel like it. I deem this blog post done. DONE I SAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Edited to add: I don't HATE NYC, guys, I really don't. I'm just not...built for it. I'll love it forever for it's wide selection of international cuisine, for that alone it can not be surpassed.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-983276045165029279?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/983276045165029279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-observations-in-nyc.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/983276045165029279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/983276045165029279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-observations-in-nyc.html' title='My Observations in NYC'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-7993673517548708323</id><published>2009-08-27T11:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T14:00:18.188-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thai Food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laziness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sleepy Mary'/><title type='text'>Laziness</title><content type='html'>I previously wrote that "Laziness" would be the title of my second blog entry, and by Jove, I'm stickin' to that. Especially since it explains why I haven't written in here since I started this blog last week. Laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 11:30 and I have not yet eaten breakfast while most people living in the US Eastern Time Zone are starting to let their minds wander towards lunch. Why? Laziness. Nutritional laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Mr. and I often chat via instant messaging. Even when we are both home. In our itty bitty teeny tiny 5 room apartment. "Hey babe, did you feed the cat?" "Of course I did!" "Then why do I hear you running to the pantry to do it now?" "Dammit." Why do we do this? Laziness. Communication laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been home a LOT lately, yet my vacuum cleaner has been collecting dust. The laundry pile has been collecting dust. The duster has been collecting dust. The reason? Laziness. Domestic laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped writing this blog entry for the last hour and a half just to mope around the house and read a magazine. ¿Por qué? Laziness. Blogging laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been ordering waaaaaay too much takeout lately. Can you guess the reason? Yep. Laziness. Culinary laziness. And also...because I just can't get enough Thai Chicken Pahd See Ew. It's yummilicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the word "laziness" starting to look warped to anyone else? I have typed it so many times that it is starting to just look like a bunch of letters randomly put together, but the word has lost all meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've really go to work on improving this issue...but not just yet. I'm feeling too lazy at the moment to bother. And where's that Thai take-out menu???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave you with this parting image (Taken over 2 years ago, but I love that you can see I was too lazy to remove the stickers from my laptop. How very apropos.):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374701515198131138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 190px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/SpbGjTsja8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/3hV7r0Ln5Rs/s320/thumbCA5UPA0Q.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-7993673517548708323?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/7993673517548708323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/08/laziness.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/7993673517548708323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/7993673517548708323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/08/laziness.html' title='Laziness'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/SpbGjTsja8I/AAAAAAAAAA4/3hV7r0Ln5Rs/s72-c/thumbCA5UPA0Q.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8153671346182014771.post-701134871794151826</id><published>2009-08-19T09:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T16:39:07.059-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laser eyes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boredom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facebook'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hello'/><title type='text'>Hi. Hello. And Howdayado? &lt;-Does that look like "How Do You Do?" Maybe not.</title><content type='html'>Welcome to all of you who had nothing better to do than to peruse through the miniscule aspects of my existence. I applaud you, because if you have/had a blog, my bored self would likely be doing the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me start with the reason I decided to start a blog...actually, I mean to start ANOTHER blog. I had a Livejournal many, many moons ago, but eventually abandoned it for reasons unbeknownst to me. Seriously. It's not like my life suddenly became so eventful that I no longer had the time to put into it. I just...stopped. Had nothing more to say, I guess. Oh, that, and I forgot the password.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One might assume, then, that I now HAVE something to say, but one would be wrong. I am pretty much doing this because it's summer time and I am sick and tired of being "that Facebook girl." You know the one. She's the one who sits there and refreshes the page every 1.7 minutes in desperate hope that someone will have posted something new, perhaps even-and this makes her extra giddy-as a response to something SHE has already posted!!! Sad, really. I spent my yesterday in this sorry state. August 18, 2009 is a day I will never get back, and I didn't do a ding dong thing with it. When I am on my deathbed one day, waiting to meet my maker-or St. Peter-or the cold hard earth-whatever, I will be saddened to recall that there was a day that I wasted doing nothing but waiting for Facebook updates. I could have been canoeing, aiding the elderly, discovering a cure for the common cold, or drafting a letter to my local congressman, but no. I decided to drape myself over the air conditioner and watch the minutes pass me by. Le sigh. Wait...where was I going with all of this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yes. My reason for starting a blog. Boredom. In fact, I should title this post "Boredom," but I won't. Know why? Laziness. But I'll save that for blog entry numero dos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And as a 'thank you' to those who actually took time out of your precious lives to read this, I present to you a picture of the curious mutant phenomenon of Merlin the Feline Laser, just because I can: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371668708317334098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/SowAOtpWClI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_Er7E60geEg/s320/Laser+Eyes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Government officials are investigating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8153671346182014771-701134871794151826?l=mary-belle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/feeds/701134871794151826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/08/hi-hello-and-howdayado-does-that-look.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/701134871794151826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8153671346182014771/posts/default/701134871794151826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mary-belle.blogspot.com/2009/08/hi-hello-and-howdayado-does-that-look.html' title='Hi. Hello. And Howdayado? &lt;-Does that look like &quot;How Do You Do?&quot; Maybe not.'/><author><name>Mary</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09510926940620768819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/Sov6fbApHOI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gQ_hGoRLCvQ/S220/lil+me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NOb62dGeEws/SowAOtpWClI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_Er7E60geEg/s72-c/Laser+Eyes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
