<?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-13369370</id><updated>2012-02-16T14:21:35.305-05:00</updated><category term='Frank Ski'/><category term='Carol City'/><category term='Fitness'/><category term='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><category term='Obama Acceptance Speech'/><category term='Tavis Smiley'/><category term='Spray on Condom'/><category term='success'/><category term='Sea Grapes'/><category term='Georgia Bullets'/><category term='role models'/><category term='break ups'/><category term='Palin'/><category term='men'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='Exercise'/><category term='Single momhood'/><category term='safer sex'/><category term='daughters'/><category term='Shape Ups'/><category term='US Politics'/><category term='fathers'/><title type='text'>The Revenge of Eva</title><subtitle type='html'>My thoughts, trials, tribulations and triumphs.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>73</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-1509292686736997755</id><published>2009-09-09T20:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T20:57:43.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality Check</title><content type='html'>This weekend I had the privilege of supporting a loving couple through a long labor and wonderful birth.  They were completely in sync with each other and quite without trying, the love radiated from them.  Contrast that with my “relationship” with Mr. ED where most times I initiate the contact, we haven’t had a date since our first date almost 5 months ago, and he only seems to want to be in constant contact when he wants to screw, any other time he has no problem ignoring my calls.  Add a little sleep deprivation and you have my mood now, frustrated and sullen.  Seeing a functional couple highlighted my dysfunctional relationships.  Don’t get me wrong, I like my free-spirited, friendship where sex happens to be one of the perks, but it falls short of what I want in my life.  I love sex, but I am more than that.  I want someone who is understanding enough to love me in spite of.  I want someone who is mature enough and secure enough to be the man, be the aggressor in our relationship.  I want so badly to be able to take a back seat and not always have to be the one driving the relationship.  I don’t know if I will ever find happiness within the confines of a relationship, but I sure hope that I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-1509292686736997755?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/1509292686736997755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=1509292686736997755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/1509292686736997755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/1509292686736997755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/09/reality-check.html' title='Reality Check'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2872076508733063878</id><published>2009-08-17T11:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T11:53:07.027-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shape Ups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fitness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Exercise'/><title type='text'>A Workout without A Workout?</title><content type='html'>For at least the last year and a half I have been saying that I was going to do more to get in shape.  I tried belly dance class (which I loved) for 6 months, but had to quit when football season rolled around I had to take my son to practice/games 4 times out of the week.  As much as I loved belly dance, it didn’t work on my most troublesome spot, my stomach.  (I know, it was a shock to me too, but really belly dance movements work out your thighs and arms more than anything else.)  So I said I would do the core exercises I knew at home and throw some other routines in there to round it out and hopefully plump up my derrière.  That lasted all of a week or two.  Then I said I would walk around the park while at football practice, but most times I end up working on homework with my other children or sitting down reading a book or talking to the other parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I see that Sketchers has these “Shape Ups” shoes that are suppose to do all of the things I want- work on the core muscles, burn calories, shape up the legs/buttocks- just by wearing them.  I have been reading the different customer reviews on them and it sounds like people are really happy with them.  I’m pretty tight with my money so I’m going to have to get over the price tag ($110-$120) and get me a pair.  I walk at work (from the shuttle stop to my office and back, 10 minutes each way) and, who knows this may be the encouragement that I need to walk during football practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, some of my friends have made comments about my weight/small frame and can’t understand my angst.  But here’s the deal, 1) I come from a family racked with medical issues, both of my parents died at the age of 53, my mother from heart disease, my father from kidney disease; I know I have to do better so that I can live longer.  2) I see my stomach every day and know that it is not bikini material and I would like to be able to wear one, comfortably, next summer.  3) Last, but not least, I want a firmer behind that stands up and can be noticed like Serena Williams’.  Now, I know it will never be quite that perfect, but if I can get somewhere in line with hers I will be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll keep you posted on my progress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2872076508733063878?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2872076508733063878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2872076508733063878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2872076508733063878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2872076508733063878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/08/workout-without-workout.html' title='A Workout without A Workout?'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2365918254212733052</id><published>2009-08-14T10:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T11:03:35.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreaming</title><content type='html'>My dream from last night is still haunting me today.  I was sitting on a sofa in someone's living room, I'm not sure who's, when a little boy sat down next to me and asked me why I wasn't in a relationship.  My reply?  "Because I am tired of being disappointed."  Is this really how I feel?  I am definitely tired of being disappointed, but I still haven't given up on being a relationship.  The unconscious thoughts that play behind the scenes &lt;em&gt;may be &lt;/em&gt;what’s keeping me single.  I don’t know.  &lt;em&gt;Sigh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2365918254212733052?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2365918254212733052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2365918254212733052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2365918254212733052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2365918254212733052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/08/dreaming.html' title='Dreaming'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-1852085835822568006</id><published>2009-05-28T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T13:35:46.833-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='break ups'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><title type='text'>The misAdventures of a Dating Single Mom, Part III</title><content type='html'>It ended where it began, Arizona’s.  The last nail in the coffin came a few days before when I saw New Guy at the school and the best he could do was wave at me as I was driving off.  I sent him a text letting him know that I didn’t appreciate that.  Of course, he tried to come back with something about me making more out of it than it really was, but I told him that I was starting to notice a pattern and I didn’t like the picture that was being painted.  He got frustrated and didn’t want to speak any more.  Later, I texted him and asked exactly what his intentions were regarding me.  He didn’t respond until a day later and when he did he said he couldn’t understand the question.  (I have since learned that apparently other men read that question a lot differently than I had intended.)  I clarified that I wanted to know, which was his interest level was in our relationship.  He told me that was putting the horse before the cart and he just wanted me to stop being spoiled.  Spoiled?  Horse before the cart?  Funny, that was never a consideration when he was trying to sleep with me.  We went back and forth with a few more text messages and then I finally just said see ya!  He came back with some text about me needing to look deep within so that I can be honest and real.  Excuse me?  I’m not sure what it is he thinks I haven’t been honest or real about, but I was quite honest with him and that is why I let him know that I thought he was a nice guy, just not the nice guy for me.  That was then…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to Friday night:  I’m at the restaurant enjoying the band when I notice New Guy walk through the door.  He claims he didn’t see me, but not 10 seconds after he arrived I received a text from him stating that he had been thinking about me all day.  Really?  I politely deleted his text without a response.  A few minutes later I was trying to make my way to the door and had to walk past him and his friends.  In retrospect, his facial expression did carry a look of surprise, so maybe he didn’t know I was there.  I walked by with nothing more than an “excuse me”.  He just looked at me with his mouth gaping open.  Now begins the onslaught of texts.  He couldn’t believe I would walk past him and not say anything.  I told him to stop being spoiled.  He continues to send his messages; I continue to delete them unanswered.  Eventually, he drinks up enough courage to come over and speak to me face to face.  We exchange a few words and I walk away to go speak to someone else.  When I decide to leave, he begins begging me to meet him somewhere afterwards.  I’m not having it and tell him as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His actions on Friday only reconfirmed for me that I was about sex to him.  Why else are you texting me at 10pm at night, and you’re out drinking, talking about you’ve been thinking about me all day.  That was supposed to be the beginning of the set up but I ruined his plans by being present and having a brain.  I am so tired of being nothing than more than a piece of ass for some man to “tap”.  I love sex, and I am a sexual person, but I’m really tired of people mistaking my openness and honesty for stupidity.  I would really like to get into a man’s head literally.  I would like to know if they have a conscience or care about how what they do affects the other person.  I can’t tell that many of them do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, I feel like I passed a test.  I was able to decipher the signs, check my feelings and act.  A few years ago it would not have been that easy and I would have been typing this two-five years from now.  Oh well, time not wasted is time saved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-1852085835822568006?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/1852085835822568006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=1852085835822568006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/1852085835822568006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/1852085835822568006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/05/misadventures-of-dating-single-mom-part_28.html' title='The misAdventures of a Dating Single Mom, Part III'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-5579996831985998218</id><published>2009-05-11T23:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T23:02:58.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The misAdventures of a Dating Single Mom, Part II</title><content type='html'>I met someone about a month ago.  It wasn’t through Match.  That turned out to be a waste of money, maybe.  I still go online and check my matches and see who has viewed my page, but I’m guessing that they are weeding themselves out by not trying to contact me and I’m ok with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to New Guy.  He approached me at my favorite hang out just as I was about to leave.  He was very sweet and we hit it off immediately.  After that night, we had a bit of a rocky start, miscommunication, dates with friends, etc.  But once we got our grove, it was good.  We were on the phone like we were teenagers in high school, talking into the late hours of the night and the conversations didn’t even revolve around sex.  That’s not to say we didn’t have a couple of sessions, we did, but we had so many other things to talk about.  It was great.  I didn’t realize how much I missed that part of a relationship, the connection outside of the sex.  It looked like everything was headed in the right direction and then…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself wanting to be around this man as much as I possibly could and we were making time for each other, a sneak out after the kids’ bedtime or before we had to pick them up from school.  Yes, he’s a single father too so I thought we would be a perfect match, and then…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, communication and timing got in our way.  I had a dinner date with a friend and was going to meet him afterwards.  I called him after I left the restaurant to find out what was what.  He was in the process of dropping his son off where he was going to be for the night and he was going to call me back.  Well, when he finally called he was on his way to the place where we met and I was at home.  It was dark and raining and I didn’t want to drive any more.  I had hoped for a night in, but he clearly had other plans.  When he called me the second time it was late and I had apparently fallen asleep in my clothes.  I had to decline his invitation to come out and meet him.  The next morning he called me all hot and bothered and we had a great session, so much so I decided to get up, shower and go over to his place.  I was hoping for an in person morning session.  It didn’t go quite the way I hoped.  He had some performance issues, but I didn’t care.  I enjoyed spending the time with him.  I told him next time I would come prepared with my tools to help him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to this past weekend.  Throughout the week, I had been letting him know out right how much I wanted him and how I was feeling about him.  He said we could see each other Friday, but then nothing.  We spoke, but he never mentioned us getting together that night, but said he would clear his schedule for me for Saturday.  I had told him I would be cooking this weekend and he wanted a taste so I made enough for him and his son.  I have not cooked for anyone outside of my family and close friends in several years, so the fact that I was doing this was a big deal to me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I didn’t translate that to him because once again he didn’t secure babysitting and my plans were dashed.  By the end of the night I couldn’t hide my disappointment.  I told him that since he couldn’t stay long at my house when he came over for dinner, I would bring dessert to him.  When I called to let him know I was on my way, he informed me that his son was asleep in his bed and so we would have to hang out downstairs.  I was not a happy camper.  I know it should be about the time spent, but I had plans.  We ended up sitting in silence and only speaking to each other intermittently.  Eventually, I just asked him to walk me to the door and I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wants me to be understanding of his situation and be “even” when things don’t work out and understand that we’ve only known each other a month so it’s going to be a process getting to know each other.  I understand all of that with the exception of being “even”.  Am I not suppose to get upset when he walks in front of me at the school and treats me like I’m just any other parent there?  Am I not supposed to get upset when we agree to see each other and he waits until the last minute to get a sitter?  Am I not supposed to get upset when it seems like I am going forward while he is going backward?  What am I suppose to do in those situations.  I am the woman and I want to be pursued!  I don’t want to always be the one going after him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what it’s like to have to look for babysitting.  I don’t have to do it as often, but I do have my moments.  But if it’s something that’s important to me, I start looking early to increase my chances of it working out instead of just hoping it will work out on its own.  I don’t know if this is how he runs his business or if this is part of what we single parents do, the “hiding behind our children syndrome”, but I’m not a very patient person and once my frustration really sets in, there’s no turning back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won’t be giving up my Match subscription any time soon, that’s for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-5579996831985998218?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/5579996831985998218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=5579996831985998218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5579996831985998218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5579996831985998218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/05/misadventures-of-dating-single-mom-part.html' title='The misAdventures of a Dating Single Mom, Part II'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2241062914648885562</id><published>2009-04-01T20:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T20:10:54.305-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Using Only Song Titles</title><content type='html'>I loved this so much I decided to post it here.  The premise of this online "chain game" is to use ONLY SONG TITLES from ONE artist to cleverly answer these questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Artist Is: John Legend &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Are you a male or female: “She Don’t Have to Know”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Describe yourself: “Motherless Chile”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. How do you feel about yourself: “Number One”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: “Used to Love You”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: “Another Again”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Describe your current location: “Coming Home”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Describe where you want to be: “Refuge”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Your best friends are: “Ordinary People”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Your favorite thing to do is: “Cross The Line”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You know that: “Everybody Knows”; “It’s Over”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What’s the day like: “Each Day Gets Better”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What is life to you: “Heaven”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. What is the best advice you have to give: “I Love, You Love”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. If you could change your name what would it be? “Maxine”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you try, but here's the catch: You cannot use the same artist that I did, nor can you duplicate song titles EVEN if they were performed by another artist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2241062914648885562?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2241062914648885562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2241062914648885562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2241062914648885562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2241062914648885562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/04/using-only-song-titles.html' title='Using Only Song Titles'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2188546702314187699</id><published>2009-03-31T11:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T11:34:15.912-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Released Me When I Didn’t Have Sense Enough To Release Myself</title><content type='html'>It’s been six years now since we first met and while it didn’t end quite the way I had hoped, it has come to an end.  We have seen each other through engagements, a baby (not his), and a whole lot of drama of all levels.  It’s been something else.  I can’t say it was all bad, more like a teachable moment.  All those little things that he would do or not do, say or not say that felt a little prickly to me, that hurt my feelings or made me feel bad about myself I should not have ignored or wrote off or allowed him to convince me that I was just being “sensitive”.  My feelings, while not his feelings, still mattered.  He took great to look after everyone else’s feelings, but mine somehow didn’t matter as much.  I guess because I was in that group he would sleep with, but never date.  I tried to convince myself that I was cool with that, and in the beginning I probably was, or just distracted.  Lord knows, I had enough going on outside of him to keep me off focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, now I’m focused and thinking and feeling with clarity.  Those little prickly feelings could no longer be ignored.  I could no longer ignore the slights or disrespectful words or gestures or nongestures.  So I began to speak up for myself.  I had discovered what it was that I wanted and in doing so I had found my voice, yet I still couldn’t break completely free.  So he did it for me.  Oh, I was pissed at first.  I always wanted to be the one to walk away on my own terms.  Yes, I always knew there would be an end; I just wanted it to be my end, my way.  But I got over the hurt feelings once I realized that it really was for the best.  While he may have had his own selfish reasons for doing it the way it did it, a clean break for us is the best way to go.  Discussions always led us back into each other.  So now, I’m free.  And if I’ve really learned anything, I won’t repeat this particular situation again.  Most of all I will never again put me to the side for the gratification of someone else.  I’m grateful for relationship and the growth and now the release.  It is received in love whether it was intended that way or not.  And there’s nothing you can do about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2188546702314187699?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2188546702314187699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2188546702314187699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2188546702314187699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2188546702314187699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/03/he-released-me-when-i-didnt-have-sense.html' title='He Released Me When I Didn’t Have Sense Enough To Release Myself'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-859117833306222206</id><published>2009-03-30T13:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T13:40:00.049-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><title type='text'>Love Expression – Actions Speak Louder Than Words</title><content type='html'>I have been having ongoing discussions with my sisters and sisterfriends about love and how men express their love.  (That’s what reading Steve Harvey’s book will get you.)  I seem to be in the minority with my friends/sisters in that I am not as hung up on the man saying “I love you” as much as I am with him showing his love for me in various ways, conversely, they would like to hear the words.  This may all have to do with one’s perspective and experiences.  I have had all too many a man tell me he loved me and profess his undying love for me, yet his actions didn’t quite add up to that love he kept telling me he felt for me.  Therefore, I would prefer the action over the words.  That’s not to say I wouldn’t want my man to tell me he loves me, of course I would, but I also want all that comes with loving someone.  I want the honesty, the communication, the commitment, the protection, the gifts, and I want someone who will provide for me.  I want all of it.  Someone once told me that I couldn’t have everything.  I believe that with the right man, I can have everything and then some.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-859117833306222206?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/859117833306222206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=859117833306222206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/859117833306222206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/859117833306222206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/03/love-expression-actions-speak-louder.html' title='Love Expression – Actions Speak Louder Than Words'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-5862418191165115471</id><published>2009-03-28T20:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T20:58:43.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Relevant</title><content type='html'>Job Posting &lt;br /&gt;Position: Life Partner / Husband&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post Date: 10/14/05&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacancies: 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Range: 34-45 years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Title Code: 200175&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close Date: Open&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Job Summary&lt;/strong&gt;: Incumbent is responsible for the provision of love, friendship and communication in the pursuit of a sustainable partnership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Distinguishing Characteristics&lt;/strong&gt;: Life partner/husband is a stand-alone class; responsible for helping to develop and maintain a loving partnership that is grounded in mutual respect, honesty and love for one another. The incumbent is responsible for engaging in open communication with partner, heading the household and providing loving discipline for the children as well as acting as a positive role model for the children within the household and the community. Incumbent seeks to comfort and support his partner in all aspects of their life experiences. In return, she shall provide him with comfort and support throughout all aspects of their life experiences. Incumbent shall provide for the sexual gratification of his partner and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Essential Duties&lt;/strong&gt;: Maintain honest communication; contribute to the financial, emotional and spiritual well-being of the household; provide guidance for the children through daily interactions; forsakes all others and remains true to his life partner and children; gives unselfishly to his family and to his community; assists in building a spiritual foundation from which the family can grow; participates in consultation and decision making with life partner to map the direction of the household; attends various children’s appointments and school functions as needed; performs various support duties such as picking up the children from school, helping with homework, cooking, cleaning and other household chores; nurtures relationship with life partner inclusive of an active, satisfying sex life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Skills&lt;/strong&gt;: Excellent written, verbal and nonverbal communication skills; able to express and convey emotions and needs to partner; excellent parenting skills, disciplinarian; able to set and manage budgets; multitasker, able to oversee household projects to completion; adequate culinary skills; hustler, entrepreneur; excellent lover, highly skilled in the art of cunnilingus and the female orgasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Knowledge&lt;/strong&gt;: Principles and practices of successful relationships, child development and spiritual preparedness. Also maintains knowledge in financial planning and budgeting, project management and leadership. Other knowledge areas include therapeutic massage techniques, event planning and the art of love making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minimum Qualifications&lt;/strong&gt;: At least 5’7”, weight proportional to height, attractive (to be determined by interviewer); single or divorced; male of color; 29-42 years of age; loves children, has 0-2 children; independent homeowner (renter without roommates acceptable); good to average credit; possesses reliable transportation; currently employed; Bachelor degree. GRADUATE DEGREE PREFERRED. Experienced lover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Licensing Requirements&lt;/strong&gt;: Marriage license within 2-4 years of selection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Examination&lt;/strong&gt;: The examination will consist of an evaluation of knowledge and skills over a series of dates, weekend get-a-ways and time spent in general company. If selected, an evaluation of friends and family will occur through a series of observation points. Applicants must be able to authenticate all claims with documented proof, written or otherwise. A background and credit check may be performed. Results from a recent (within the last 14 days) STD panel* is required. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Testing&lt;/strong&gt;: Truthfulness, punctuality, leadership and communication skills as well as the ability to handle stressful situations will be tested periodically. If selected, applicant will also be tested on sexual function and skill through various demonstration opportunities. DISCLAIMER: Applicant may feel his manhood is being tested at times, know that it is not, however this is a natural male reaction to being challenged by another person, particularly a female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To Apply&lt;/strong&gt;: Inquiries can be submitted in the comments section of this post. Further instruction will be provided if you advance to the next phase of the selection process. Be sure to include your contact information. Entries will be judged on creativity and sincerity. All vulgar entries will suffer automatic disqualification.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* STD Panel: A panel of tests that include Chlamydia, gonorrhea, and syphilis. Tests for HSV I and II (herpes) and HIV may have to be requested. Additional tests may be done depending on the patient’s complaints and the physician’s office or lab's standard of practice. At a minimum, test results for Chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, HSV I and II and HIV must be submitted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-5862418191165115471?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/5862418191165115471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=5862418191165115471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5862418191165115471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5862418191165115471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/03/still-relevant.html' title='Still Relevant'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2589359512096526425</id><published>2009-03-25T12:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T12:53:29.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating Help Is On the Way</title><content type='html'>Last week I finally ordered Steve Harvey’s book, &lt;em&gt;Act Like a Lady, Think Like A Man&lt;/em&gt;.  I’ve been counting down the days until its arrival, checking my front step every time I leave or come home.  Then this morning as I was driving off to go to work I took one last glance over my shoulder.  Wait, there’s something there.  The little brown box with the crooked smile had finally arrived!  I stopped the car, put it in reverse and backed up to my drive way.  I almost jumped out of the car without putting it in reverse.  I was so happy.  It felt like Christmas morning to me.  I ran over and picked up my box and jumped back in the car.  I immediately pulled out my office keys and used them to cut the tape on the box.  Ahhh, there it was my very own copy of THE book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been listening to the show and absolutely love the Strawberry Letter segment, so much so that I’ve written in twice, once about Mr. California and once about Him.  I haven’t heard it read on the show yet, but that’s ok.  I have my book with the answers waiting to jump off the page at me.  I usually reserve my time on the shuttle for napping, but this morning I started reading my book.  Before I knew it I was already at work, but not before I gained some serious insight and I’m only on page 25!  I can’t wait to read on and see the mysteries of men and relationships open up to me page after page after page.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2589359512096526425?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2589359512096526425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2589359512096526425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2589359512096526425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2589359512096526425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/03/dating-help-is-on-way.html' title='Dating Help Is On the Way'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-4834653036068431619</id><published>2009-03-08T22:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T22:59:31.442-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exodus</title><content type='html'>For some reason it finally occurred to me tonight that I am the only one keeping me hostage.  I can walk away from the sometimes toxic, sometimes draining, sometimes sometimey relationships in my life at any moment.  But why is it so hard?  I don’t know why it has to get to a point of hatred before I can do that.  It shouldn’t have to be that way.  Is this what the phrase “Loyal to a Fault” means?  In this case, or cases, I can’t really say that it’s about loyalty.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s about the lure, the sexual satisfaction I receive when I’m with him or Him.  While they are sexually gratifying, they leave me so very unfulfilled emotionally.  Maybe I’m just being lazy.  It’s easier to just fall back on what’s there then to actually try to meet someone new and get to know them and trust them enough to go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then the question comes back to me: Do I want to liberated or do I want what’s familiar?  I guess I need to make the best decision for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-4834653036068431619?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/4834653036068431619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=4834653036068431619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/4834653036068431619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/4834653036068431619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/03/exodus.html' title='Exodus'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-5584727984650686594</id><published>2009-03-08T22:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T22:58:58.646-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><title type='text'>Play by the Rules or Else</title><content type='html'>I’m sick of playing by someone else’s rules.  He dictates who initiates, when we will see each other, where we sill see each other, and I keep going along with it.  I thought I had finally found the out I had been wanting and a week later I’m back to asking to see him.  It’s like the addict and the drug.  You want so badly to be done with it, but then you think about how good you feel for that moment, and forget about how low you feel once the moment has passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. California doesn’t have that same draw for me.  I can go for months without talking to him and not even miss him.  I answer his calls for entertainment.  I agree to go on trips with him because I can’t get that request from Him.  But I figure if he wants a mistress, then no more getting short changed, been there done that.  He wants to tell me about your trips to Jamaica, Brazil, Columbia, Hawaii, LA for the Grammy’s, etc. then please know I’m not letting him off easy.  If he asks me to go on a trip with him, then he should be paying for it, particularly since I am heading up a single-income household.  In order for me to meet him in the middle of the week, I have to find a sitter, take off from work and fly out to where ever he is.  That is no small feat.  At any rate, he was upset about it and felt that I was trying to ALWAYS make him pay for everything.  Not true, I paid for our very expensive night at a very nice hotel.  And so what if I want him to pay for everything?  HE told me that if I didn’t like the rules the man was putting out, then I should find a man’s whose rules I could live with.  I may need to do that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-5584727984650686594?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/5584727984650686594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=5584727984650686594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5584727984650686594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5584727984650686594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/03/play-by-rules-or-else.html' title='Play by the Rules or Else'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-375036648940883817</id><published>2009-02-26T16:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T16:39:30.287-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are We Fighting About This Again???</title><content type='html'>I really did plan to write something to the ladies today, but I need to address the men one more time.  Men, those of you who are fathers, I am curios to know what is your definition of fatherhood?  What does it mean to you to be a father to your child?  Do you only look at the fun aspect, the going on outings, playing at home, watching movies, or do you think about fatherhood holistically?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you understand that being a parent isn’t just about throwing the baby up in the air and then handing him over to his mother?  Do you understand that sometimes as a parent you have to sacrifice what you want in order to do what the baby/child needs?  Do you understand that sometimes you have to make choices between your job or career and what’s best for child?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a parent means delivering and doing for another person even when there is no one there to cheer for you.  Sometimes all you have is the silent, personal satisfaction of knowing that you did what you needed to do for your child.  Sometimes all you have is the hug, kiss, smile, or adoration of a little person who loves you unconditionally, and at the end of the day that means so much more than any award you could ever receive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a co-parent means working with your child’s mother by: being on time, providing enough notification when schedules change, showing up for your child’s functions, helping with homework, doing hair and just helping her to carry the load, whatever that means for your situation.  Be an active parent in your child’s life, not just someone who’s there when it’s convenient or beneficial for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am directing this towards the men, I guess we women can take something from this as well.  BEFORE you have a baby with someone, perhaps you should ask him what his idea of fatherhood really is.  Trust me when I say, finding out after the fact can lead you disappointed and shouldering all of the responsibility by yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-375036648940883817?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/375036648940883817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=375036648940883817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/375036648940883817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/375036648940883817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/02/are-we-fighting-about-this-again.html' title='Are We Fighting About This Again???'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2775138144985590092</id><published>2009-02-24T10:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T11:02:37.731-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fathers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='role models'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='daughters'/><title type='text'>Your Daddy Ain't Ish</title><content type='html'>This one is for all of the men out there.  Hear me NOW.  If you are friends, acquaintances, sleeping with and/or dating a woman who has a child(ren), it is NOT your place to tell that child her father ain’t ish, even if he is.  You have absolutely NO right to insert yourself into that child’s relationship with her father and disrespect him (and by extension that child) by telling her that.  If you are so concerned about her and the choices she is making, partly as a result of her dysfunctional father, then make it your business to show her what a real man is about by treating her and her mother with respect, provide a listening ear when she needs it, and provide the guidance that every child needs.  Telling that child that her father ain’t ish will NOT help her.  She already knows what her father isn’t doing, hasn’t done, and probably will never do.  She lives with that pain every day.  That is her reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While she may act out and think she’s grown, doing things that grown people do, she is still a child unable to handle adult issues.  She doesn’t need another man telling her what her daddy ain’t.  She needs someone showing her what a MAN is.  She needs someone telling her that she is valued so that one day when that boy or older man steps to her with false promises of love and pipe dreams, she will walk the other way because she knows she’s worthy of better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it bothers you so much, angers you so much that her father ain’t ish, then why don’t you talk to your male friends and call them on their stupidity when they walk out on their responsibilities.  If it angers you so much, then why don’t you become a mentor to other boys and girls who may also be from single-mother homes.  If it angers you so much, then why don’t you stop sleeping with her mother for kicks and marry her and become a real example.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;If you aren’t willing to do any of those things, then sit down and SHUT UP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helpful Resources:&lt;br /&gt;http://www.manifestyourdestiny.org/&lt;br /&gt;http://www.forrealsolutions.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2775138144985590092?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2775138144985590092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2775138144985590092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2775138144985590092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2775138144985590092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/02/your-daddy-aint-ish.html' title='Your Daddy Ain&apos;t Ish'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-836835266935481206</id><published>2009-02-14T18:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T18:21:09.976-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><title type='text'>The misAdventures of a Dating Single Mom</title><content type='html'>I agonized for about an hour over whether or not I would mail him the Valentine’s Day card.  I wanted to redo what I had written.  Would he think it was too much?  Should I have put it in the back, so it was less busy?  I thought it was light and in character with our relationship, but I didn’t know how he would take it?  Did it look too juvenile?  Maybe I should have picked a more sophisticated card.  But that was exactly what I didn’t want, the mushy “you make me better/ complete me/ I love you” type of card.  So why am I tripping over this card?  Maybe because in the five years that we have known each other, I’ve never given him a card and he’s never given me one.  We did just recently give each other gifts, another “new” aspect to this whole thing.  Maybe I should just go back to the store and buy the same card and leave out the Nikki Giovanni poem?  After thinking about it another few minutes, I flipped the card over and realized I had spent almost $5 on the card.  What?!?  Not the usual 99 cents.  He would receive it as is.  In the end, I was tripping for nothing.  He sent me a message thanking me for the card in a way that only he could.  The card was a fit after all.  So why was I trippin’?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-836835266935481206?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/836835266935481206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=836835266935481206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/836835266935481206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/836835266935481206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/02/misadventures-of-dating-single-mom.html' title='The misAdventures of a Dating Single Mom'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-9157622358069565507</id><published>2009-01-05T15:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T15:16:35.341-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carol City'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sea Grapes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Georgia Bullets'/><title type='text'>Sea Grapes = Georgia Bullets</title><content type='html'>I'm originally from Carol City (Dade County) Miami, FL.  You know it by all of those names.  Anywho, back in the day we had a lemon tree in our yard so if we wanted lemonaide, we just walked out to the back yard and picked the lemons.  My aunt had a mango tree and a kumquat bush.  If we wanted mango, we climbed the tree and picked them.  I didn't really care for the taste of kumquats, too sour.  And then there was the woman across the street from my aunt.  She had a sea grape tree.  I absolutely loved eating these tasty delights right off the tree.  She would let us come over with our bowls and pick as many as we could handle.  I've been able to find every kind of other fruit in the grocery store, except sea grapes.  I must admit, I absolutely hate paying for fruit I once was able to get for free, but I'm no longer in the land of abundance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was with my family over the holiday and we started talking about sea grapes.  Well, as it turns out the younger generation know them as Georgia Bullets.  What a wierd name for such a fruit.  Apparently, they are sold at corner stores and make shift stands in Miami as Georgia Bullets.  Funny, I've never seen them in Georgia under either name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-9157622358069565507?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/9157622358069565507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=9157622358069565507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/9157622358069565507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/9157622358069565507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2009/01/sea-grapes-georgia-bullets.html' title='Sea Grapes = Georgia Bullets'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-4934287247958528049</id><published>2008-12-10T13:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T13:54:57.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blast From The Past</title><content type='html'>I absolutely love this song and it is so fitting for today.  Unfortunately, I am at work and have no man, but we can all dream...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZeqTOzbI58I&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZeqTOzbI58I&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-4934287247958528049?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/4934287247958528049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=4934287247958528049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/4934287247958528049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/4934287247958528049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/12/blast-from-past.html' title='Blast From The Past'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-9045433148275108326</id><published>2008-11-27T15:36:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T16:25:08.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Win Some, Lose Some, and Sometimes You Just Get Tired of Trying</title><content type='html'>Today is Thanksgiving and while I am truly thankful for my family and friends and the difference in my financial situation, I'm also sad.  I'm sad because I'm starting to realize that perhaps me and my friends have a different definition of 'friendship'.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this crazy idea that friends should spend time together and not just email and text each other to death.  I think friends should know who you are as a person, not create a persona of you, after being around each other for a over two years or ten years.  But maybe I'm just asking too much of others or like with men, I'm choosing the wrong friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One friend in particular has me sad today.  He said he loved me two days ago and then yesterday we were done.  We both have agreed that friendship, or friendship with benefits, is about as far as we can go with each other for various reasons, but he is always scrutinizing the things that I say and do as if we are dating and he's lookng for the out.  So yesterday I gave him that out.  I was tired of it. I was tired of trying to live up to a standard that was constantly changing.  Funny thing though, as I was thinking about trying not to think about the situation, another friend sends me a text wishing me a happy holiday and I let him know what was going on with me.  He put it all into perspective right quick for me with a text that read, "Well, it's not like you ever thought he was the ONE."  True, but it still hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurts that after five years, I'm still not understood.  After five years, I'm still being judged by past situations and insecurities.  After five years, you don't see ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He likes to say that "I am not you and you are not me" and yet he wants me to act like him, or how he thinks I should act, but I can't.  He wants me to look a certain way, but I don't.  I am me and I am proud of me, flaws and all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry for him that, contrary to his claims, he can't just enjoy life without analyzing each situation.  I'm sorry that he feels lonely although there are people all around him, yet he has boxed himself into a 'safe' corner.  I mean after all if you aren't interested in others and don't take the time to get to really KNOW others, then you can only care about them to a point and that protects you.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I think I have done my best in this friendship and I have no regrets there.  I guess the season has passed and the reason will be revealed through other life experiences IF I have captured the lesson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-9045433148275108326?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/9045433148275108326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=9045433148275108326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/9045433148275108326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/9045433148275108326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/11/win-some-lose-some-and-sometimes-you.html' title='Win Some, Lose Some, and Sometimes You Just Get Tired of Trying'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-6671455502785091310</id><published>2008-11-06T10:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T10:38:56.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Disrespect to the President, but We Will Have a BLACK Woman in the White House Too!</title><content type='html'>&lt;script src="http://i.cdn.turner.com/cnn/.element/js/2.0/video/evp/module.js?loc=dom&amp;vid=/video/politics/2008/11/05/baldwin.michelle.obama.first.lady.cnn" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;noscript&gt;Embedded video from &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/video"&gt;CNN Video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/noscript&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-6671455502785091310?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/6671455502785091310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=6671455502785091310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/6671455502785091310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/6671455502785091310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-disrespect-to-president-but-we-will.html' title='No Disrespect to the President, but We Will Have a BLACK Woman in the White House Too!'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2232183935127858820</id><published>2008-10-20T15:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T15:15:38.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SNL Palin Rap</title><content type='html'>&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/48fce613df00beb8/4741e3c5156499a7/eb083c2b/-cpid/56daa13120955d91" id="W4727a250e66f972348fce613df00beb8" width="384" height="283"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/48fce613df00beb8/4741e3c5156499a7/eb083c2b/-cpid/56daa13120955d91" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="all" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2232183935127858820?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2232183935127858820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2232183935127858820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2232183935127858820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2232183935127858820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/10/snl-palin-rap.html' title='SNL Palin Rap'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-1523075406843377614</id><published>2008-10-18T10:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T10:56:42.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;script src="http://i.cdn.turner.com/cnn/.element/js/2.0/video/evp/module.js?loc=dom&amp;vid=/video/politics/2008/10/18/lemon.106.year.old.voter.cnn" type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;noscript&gt;Embedded video from &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/video"&gt;CNN Video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/noscript&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-1523075406843377614?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/1523075406843377614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=1523075406843377614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/1523075406843377614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/1523075406843377614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-beautiful.html' title='So Beautiful'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-6225381512705405274</id><published>2008-10-07T15:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T15:05:35.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So Who's Pallin' Around?</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe height="339" width="425" src="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22425001/vp/27057346#27057346" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-6225381512705405274?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/6225381512705405274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=6225381512705405274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/6225381512705405274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/6225381512705405274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-whos-pallin-around.html' title='So Who&apos;s Pallin&apos; Around?'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-4192855276284613376</id><published>2008-09-09T08:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T10:17:56.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'>McCain Lost In Space</title><content type='html'>Part I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4xy8-QdHQFI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4xy8-QdHQFI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JGfGtC4Ldms&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JGfGtC4Ldms&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-4192855276284613376?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/4192855276284613376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=4192855276284613376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/4192855276284613376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/4192855276284613376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/09/mccain-lost-in-space.html' title='McCain Lost In Space'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-5270120766485615762</id><published>2008-09-08T09:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T09:05:43.490-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='US Politics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Palin'/><title type='text'>Yes, but What is Her Record?</title><content type='html'>Governor Palin, now VP candidate of the Republicans is pretty much unknown to those of us who do not live in Alaska, so as I find out more about who she really is, I plan to share it with anyone who will read or listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miami Hearald &lt;br /&gt;September 04, 2008&lt;br /&gt;"Palin was for earmarks before she was against them"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what exactly is Palin's position on earmarks? Is it an opportunistic evolution mirroring a growing national distaste for the spending practice or true conviction that Alaska needed to be weaned from such federal spending?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My position has been in trying to read that writing on the wall, and understanding there's going to be reform, we can either put our heads in the sand and ignore the reforms that are coming," she said in a February interview. "Or we can be proactive and get Alaska in the position of being more productive, contributing more and becoming less reliant on the federal government."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike McCain, though, Palin has not been a purist on earmarks. As Alaska governor, she sought and obtained hundreds of millions of dollars in earmarks for the state, and as mayor of Wasilla, she hired lobbyist and former Stevens staffer Steve Silver to steer federal money to her town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of her earmark projects when she served as mayor from 1996 to 2002 even landed on McCain's list of questionable congressional pork barrel spending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read the article in its entirety at http://www.miamiherald.com/news/politics/AP/story/672783.html.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-5270120766485615762?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/5270120766485615762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=5270120766485615762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5270120766485615762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/5270120766485615762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/09/yes-but-what-is-her-record.html' title='Yes, but What is Her Record?'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-319837273336826795</id><published>2008-09-05T13:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T13:43:42.945-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Full - Superhero Feeling the Weight</title><content type='html'>I just read ABB's (look to your left under my comfort foods) post.  I swear she says some ish that will make you think, and make you feel bad.  Last night I went completely off on my son, who didn't deserve it, at least not all of it.  Once again this year I am at a point where the money is so tight we better get used to sandwiches and I'm deciding which bills will and won't be paid, and how I'm going to afford the rest of their school supplies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Child support my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just shelled out over $1000 between my 5 year old's private school and my 8 year old's after school care, and now my son is telling me that his coach said I need to buy other things for him to play in the actual football games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXCUSE ME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell was the registration fee for?  These people severely anger me.  It's as if they themselves are not parents.  I don't understand why they wait until the last minute to tell you these things instead of putting it out there upfront.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's crazy for me is that I can relate all of this back to the politics of today.  I've never been so acutely aware of how these things and who is in office affects my personal situation: No Child Left Behind BS, failing school systems and their bureaucracy, public vs private school, funding for after school activities, and parks and recreation centers, child support enforcement laws and the list goes on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-319837273336826795?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/319837273336826795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=319837273336826795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/319837273336826795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/319837273336826795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/09/feeling-full-superhero-feeling-weight.html' title='Feeling Full - Superhero Feeling the Weight'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-6772988138946150698</id><published>2008-08-29T10:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T10:34:42.606-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama Acceptance Speech'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tavis Smiley'/><title type='text'>More Strawberry Hateraide Please!</title><content type='html'>Last night was an extraordinary night.  I watched Senator Obama accept my party's nomination for presidency along with my children and millions of other Americans.  It was an absolutely beautiful moment.  A moment that has me and others walking a little bit taller today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then came the commentary on Tavis Smiley's Haternation with Dr. Cornell West and Dr. Julianne Malveaux.  In their assessment of the Senator's speech they felt he had "white-washed" the past and was running from history because he did not mention Katrina or Dr. King's name in his speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, excuse me??  Was not the whole week a tribute to history AND the future?  I heard Senator Obama say that we are better than a country "that sits on its hands while a major American city drowns".  Did Senator Obama not take parts of the "I Have A Dream" speech and make it his own last night?  Were the King children not there to, again, call attention to the historic ties of the past to the present?  What am I missing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't have to explicitly say Dr. King's name because those of us who have been watching all week and who were LISTENING already knew.  Perhaps your ego is too big for you to hear and to see that which is in front of you, you may have missed it.  There was no white-wash.  The purpose of that speech was to let the voters know what his "Change" would look like and I think he did an excellent job of expressing just that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-6772988138946150698?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/6772988138946150698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=6772988138946150698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/6772988138946150698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/6772988138946150698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/08/more-strawberry-hateraide-please.html' title='More Strawberry Hateraide Please!'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-8706768429547644884</id><published>2008-08-28T14:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T15:04:26.235-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply Ridiculous</title><content type='html'>My baby's birthday was last week.  All week her father had been asking me what I was going to do because his family was coming into town and he wanted to invite them to the party.  I already feel like I see him way too much for my own taste, so sharing a day with him was not in my plans.  Not to mention, when my daughter had her second birthday, I threw her a pool party and he invited about 30 of the 40 people who were there to her party and only contributed popscicles and two salmon steaks that only he and his mother ate.  Needless to say, I was not interested.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went and consulted the visitation agreement.  I am only obligated to give him 4 hours on her birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I let him know that I would be taking cupcakes to her school and I would be having something small at the house so she can celebrate her b'day with her brother and sister and friends that don't attend that school.  I also let him know that I would bring her to him Saturday evening so that he and his family could celebrate with her together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did not show up at her school to celebrate with her class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did pick her up from school the day of her birthday and brought her to me because he had "something to do before seven".  As he was dropping her off he asked her if her mommie was going to take her out to eat.  Uhm, am I not the one giving her not, one, but two parties already? AND they charge for the toys on the cakes now!  But that's another story.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, I threw her movie party at home since the weather was not conducive to a swim party at the park.  She was fine with that and so were my pockets.  When it was time for me to take her to her dad's house, she was not ready to go and her friends were not ready to leave, so I let them have another hour together.  When I got to his house I was shocked to find only one car in the driveway, his.  When he answered the door, I could smell the gangha.  I knew we would not be there long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His family was not in town, the local family was not coming, there was no party.  The only thing he had to say was, "Well, did you call before you came?"  He seemed to be entertaining company.  Why would I call if I already told you when I would be bringing her and I was an hour late any way?!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he had the nerve to say to my daughter, "Well, you missed Amy's* party."  Who the hell cares about some other child's party, no offense to that child, but what about the party you promised your daughter? The one that she went to school telling her teacher about?  The one that you have been pumping her up for all week?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was never any party plans.  He had planned to invite his family to the party I was hosting and jump on the bandwagon like it was something WE were planning the same as he had done when she turned two.  Not happening Bruh, not happening!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-8706768429547644884?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/8706768429547644884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=8706768429547644884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/8706768429547644884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/8706768429547644884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/08/simply-ridiculous.html' title='Simply Ridiculous'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-2773039571509441768</id><published>2008-08-13T09:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T09:50:50.684-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures of a Single Mom II</title><content type='html'>So school has begun and I am now juggling this new schedule of riding the shuttle to work, getting my daughters to school and getting my son to practice in the afternoon.  My middle child’s persistent requests for riding the bus to school may be answered.  I just hate putting her on the bus at 6:25am when school doesn’t start until 8am, but with her riding the bus, I can get my other daughter to school between 7:00am-7:30am and get the 8:20am shuttle so that I can be at work by 9:00am.  So in essence I will be up for 4 hours before my work day even starts.  Then in the afternoon I will get the 5:20pm shuttle so that I can get my daughter by 6:30pm and pick up my son and take him to football practice.  I was able to convince BD2 to pick his child up in the afternoon since he claims it wouldn’t work for me to drop her off with him in the morning so I can take an earlier shuttle in the morning and afternoon so I can pick everyone up on time and deliver my son to practice on time.  Yes, I finally gave in to my son’s request to play football.  Unfortunately, the coaching staff wants the parents to stay at practice the entire time so we do not get home until late then we eat late and go to bed late just to wake up early and do it all over again.  I guess that’s just the life of a super mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-2773039571509441768?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/2773039571509441768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=2773039571509441768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2773039571509441768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/2773039571509441768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/08/adventures-of-single-mom-ii.html' title='Adventures of a Single Mom II'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-7889220830157258386</id><published>2008-08-06T09:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T09:19:05.999-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='success'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frank Ski'/><title type='text'>Frank Ski Does It Again</title><content type='html'>Ok, I know this is a different direction from what I usually blog about, but my brother actually gave me this idea when he was here this weekend.  I was complaining about the mis-information that Frank Ski and Wanda Smith are usually passing out on V-103 in Atlanta and how hard it is for me to get in on the call line to speak with them to give a 'balanced' view of whatever the particular topic is (I'm convinced they have a block on callers with sense).  My brother suggested that I keep a blog about it and then they won't be able to ignore me, assuming I have good readership.  Let's see if he's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I spent 50minutes of my 600/month cell phone minutes on hold waiting to ask Frank about his latest contradictory statements.  I sat and listened as he and Wanda gave a single mom advice on dating, as they chatted back and forth amongst themselves about the topic, played music, commercials and lamented over Monica's show last night.  Never once did anyone come back to the phone or check in with me so here I am blogging about what I wanted to say on air had I been given the opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago Frank and Wanda did their own show on CNN's Black In America special.  Of course, the conversation eroded down to the lowest common denominator, sex and dating in Atlanta because of course that's all we care about as Black people.  In that conversation among all of the other crazy statements that came out of his mouth, Frank said, and I am paraphrasing, that women in Atlanta kill him with their 'I have my own career, money, car, house, etc.' and thinking they are successful.  To him, women are not successful if they do not have a husband and some kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to this morning when they were talking about celebrities, mainly Puffy, and they threw in some local artists for good measure, who are successful, but not married.  In this conversation, I actually found myself agreeing with Wanda when she said a successful man is helped by a strong woman supporting him, like in the case of Senator Obama and his wife.  Frank countered this by stating we don't know that their relationship is real and these men are successful without women and furthermore they aren't even thinking about that because they are so focused on their "empires".  He gave examples of Russell Simmons and Bill Gates who have given up control of their widely successful companies and so now they can focus more on family.  If I'm not mistaken, Bill Gates was married while he was running Microsoft and Russell was married when he had Def Jam.  So that just kind of proved Wanda's point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank’s wife seems like a very smart and strong woman herself.  I wonder if she just wants to smack him upside the head for some of the things he says on air, or does she just not even bother to listen to his foolishness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your thoughts about 1) How success is defined; and 2) Do you really have to have a significant other to complete the picture?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-7889220830157258386?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/7889220830157258386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=7889220830157258386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/7889220830157258386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/7889220830157258386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/08/frank-ski-does-it-again.html' title='Frank Ski Does It Again'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-7781132724372825012</id><published>2008-07-09T12:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T12:46:33.573-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Single momhood'/><title type='text'>The Adventures of a Single Mom</title><content type='html'>I know I said I would write more of the juicy stuff that everyone likes to read, but I'm saving it for the book.  Yes, I've actually started on that book that everyone has been suggesting I write for the last several years.  Sister girl needs another stream of income.  It's coming slowly but surely, the way I like it (sometimes).  I'm sorry I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I don't know if it's age or what, but I'm really feeling like I need to hurry up on my life plans.  I've had a couple of setbacks this summer, but I'm still good.  I just have to rethink how I'm going to make things happen for me and my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, my youngest daughter's school registration happened to be "overlooked" so I've been fighting with the DeKalb County School System, GA (yes, I'm shouting them out) since March.  They've been giving me the run-around at the theme school office telling me to wait, wait, and wait some more.  Finally, I get a call this Monday from one of the higher ups and he tells me there aren't any spaces left and unless someone withdraws their child, my child won't have a seat.  Nevermind the fact that she should have sibling priority, or that I went to work late when I registered her for the school or that I already have a child at that school.  I guess my ass/breasts weren't big enough to get noticed by the Vice-Principal so that I could put her in on the sly without alll the formalities of going through the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That very same day that I was given an absolute 'no' on my daughter attending that school, I was also told by the dentist that my son absolutely has to get braces or he will lose some of his teeth due to crowding.  I had put off getting his braces because I had the little one in private school and now since the public school screwed up her registration, I am in a position where I have to chose between sending my child to a decent school ($10,000) and saving my other child's teeth ($4,000).  I hate to find out how much I will have to spend for his glasses at the end of the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had so many plans for the money I was going to save by not having to send her back to private school.  One of those plans included me going back to school for my PhD, but now that will have to wait indefinitely.  I discovered that the program I wanted to attend wasn't really accredited.  They have the backing of some great associations, but none of them are recognized by the US Department of Education.  So, on to plan B.  That will require 4-6 years and a whole lot of money, but I will at least be considered a physician.  That too shall wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the meantime, along with rearing children, sending them to public school just to then also home school, work, side business and writing a book, I am also working on my doula certification.  No wonder I don't date.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-7781132724372825012?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/7781132724372825012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=7781132724372825012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/7781132724372825012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/7781132724372825012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/07/adventures-of-single-mom.html' title='The Adventures of a Single Mom'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-318517627853538762</id><published>2008-06-18T22:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T22:30:52.260-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='safer sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spray on Condom'/><title type='text'>Spray On Condom</title><content type='html'>Why didn't anybody tell me that a German inventor has created a spray-on condom?!?  It looks easy enough to use, sort of like a spray on tan.  My only question is this, because it is a skin tight fit what happens to the semen when the man busts?  I mean it really doesn't look like there is anywhere for it to go.  Will the condom break?  Does it leak?  I need some answers on that.  And will there be any irritation for his partner?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the researchers will find out through their testing process.  Oh yeah men, they are looking for testers...if you are the right size. http://www.spraykondom.de/spraycondom/index.php&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope it works, I can see having a lot of fun with this product.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blackplanet.com/photos/view.html?photo_id=13813002"&gt;&lt;img src="http://fs.blackplanet.com/29870899425ab8a9806c61fa32d3909f6b04c121/437x" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-318517627853538762?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/318517627853538762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=318517627853538762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/318517627853538762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/318517627853538762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/06/spray-on-condom.html' title='Spray On Condom'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-672693441949337194</id><published>2008-05-09T15:09:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T15:22:02.542-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Always Evolving</title><content type='html'>SO, I don't know if anyone is reading my posts these days, but I will continue to blog.  Since starting this page I wasn't sure what it would be about and thus far the subject is constantly changing, but I think I'm going to try something different.  I've had several people tell me I need to write a book.  After hearing it a thousand times, I thought sure why not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It ain't as easy as it looks people!  I am having the hardest time staying focused, coming up with a story line, etc.  I am a bit undisciplined so that is definitely working against me right about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the thought occured to me that I always have people calling me up asking me questions about sexual health, why not make my blog about that??  Hmm, there is a thought!  So, I'm going to try it and hopefully I will stand out amongst all of the sex topics online and give men and women some really good information.  I can already tell you it's not going to happen over night, but give me about a week or two and I will have something up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say that the first few blogs will probably come from books that I have next to the bed and some from experience, but that's what being a good researcher is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend everyone, anyone, someone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-672693441949337194?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/672693441949337194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=672693441949337194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/672693441949337194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/672693441949337194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/05/always-evolving.html' title='Always Evolving'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-390662810827775475</id><published>2008-04-29T08:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T09:09:05.525-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Racist By Definition</title><content type='html'>I am so sick of the political pundits begging the question "Why is Rev. Jeremiah Wright" speaking out now?  Is he a media hog?  Does he hate Senator Obama?  Rev. Wright was minding his own business when the media decided to drag him through the mud, and now that he is receiving death threats and his former church, bomb threats, why shouldn't he speak out.  He has every RIGHT to defend himself, his honor, and the Black Church.  That doesn't make him racist.  By definition, because he is a member of the "minority" class he can't be racist, but even bigger than that, NOTHING in his speeches from this weekend, nor anything in his sermons that I have listened to in their entirety, makes him racist.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is interesting to me though, is how someone who is blatantly racist has gone by unchecked for all these weeks. I haven't heard NBC, CNN, CSPAN, Rev. Al Sharpton, Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sen. Hillary Clinton, Sen. John McCain, or even Sen. Obama talk about this in their campaign speeches.  It's ok to tarnish a Black pastor, but we can't touch Pat Buchanan?  MSNBC needs to hear from us.  We can't sleep on this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what Mr. Buchanan had to say after Sen. Obama's speech on race relations last month:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Brief for Whitey&lt;br /&gt;By Patrick J. Buchanan&lt;br /&gt;Friday, March 21, 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would he pull it off? I wondered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would Barack explain to his press groupies why he sat silent in a pew for 20 years as the Rev. Jeremiah Wright delivered racist rants against white America for our maligning of Fidel and Gadhafi, and inventing AIDS to infect and kill black people? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would he justify not walking out as Wright spewed his venom about "the U.S. of K.K.K. America," and howled, "God damn America!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hunch was right. Barack would turn the tables. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Barack agreed, Wright's statements were "controversial," and "divisive," and "racially charged," reflecting a "distorted view of America." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we must understand the man in full and the black experience out of which the Rev. Wright came: 350 years of slavery and segregation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack then listed black grievances and informed us what white America must do to close the racial divide and heal the country. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "white community," said Barack, must start "acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination -- and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past -- are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds ... ." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what deeds must we perform to heal ourselves and our country? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "white community" must invest more money in black schools and communities, enforce civil rights laws, ensure fairness in the criminal justice system and provide this generation of blacks with "ladders of opportunity" that were "unavailable" to Barack's and the Rev. Wright's generations. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with Barack's prognosis and Barack's cure? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only this. It is the same old con, the same old shakedown that black hustlers have been running since the Kerner Commission blamed the riots in Harlem, Watts, Newark, Detroit and a hundred other cities on, as Nixon put it, "everybody but the rioters themselves." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was "white racism" really responsible for those black men looting auto dealerships and liquor stories, and burning down their own communities, as Otto Kerner said -- that liberal icon until the feds put him away for bribery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack says we need to have a conversation about race in America. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fair enough. But this time, it has to be a two-way conversation. White America needs to be heard from, not just lectured to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, the Silent Majority needs to have its convictions, grievances and demands heard. And among them are these: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, America has been the best country on earth for black folks. It was here that 600,000 black people, brought from Africa in slave ships, grew into a community of 40 million, were introduced to Christian salvation, and reached the greatest levels of freedom and prosperity blacks have ever known. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wright ought to go down on his knees and thank God he is an American. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, no people anywhere has done more to lift up blacks than white Americans. Untold trillions have been spent since the '60s on welfare, food stamps, rent supplements, Section 8 housing, Pell grants, student loans, legal services, Medicaid, Earned Income Tax Credits and poverty programs designed to bring the African-American community into the mainstream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Governments, businesses and colleges have engaged in discrimination against white folks -- with affirmative action, contract set-asides and quotas -- to advance black applicants over white applicants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Churches, foundations, civic groups, schools and individuals all over America have donated time and money to support soup kitchens, adult education, day care, retirement and nursing homes for blacks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hear the grievances. Where is the gratitude? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barack talks about new "ladders of opportunity" for blacks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let him go to Altoona and Johnstown, and ask the white kids in Catholic schools how many were visited lately by Ivy League recruiters handing out scholarships for "deserving" white kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is white America really responsible for the fact that the crime and incarceration rates for African-Americans are seven times those of white America? Is it really white America's fault that illegitimacy in the African-American community has hit 70 percent and the black dropout rate from high schools in some cities has reached 50 percent? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that the fault of white America or, first and foremost, a failure of the black community itself? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for racism, its ugliest manifestation is in interracial crime, and especially interracial crimes of violence. Is Barack Obama aware that while white criminals choose black victims 3 percent of the time, black criminals choose white victims 45 percent of the time? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is Barack aware that black-on-white rapes are 100 times more common than the reverse, that black-on-white robberies were 139 times as common in the first three years of this decade as the reverse? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have all heard ad nauseam from the Rev. Al about Tawana Brawley, the Duke rape case and Jena. And all turned out to be hoaxes. But about the epidemic of black assaults on whites that are real, we hear nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, Barack, some of us have heard it all before, about 40 years and 40 trillion tax dollars ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXCUSE ME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-390662810827775475?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/390662810827775475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=390662810827775475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/390662810827775475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/390662810827775475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/04/racist-by-definition.html' title='Racist By Definition'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-7578095178487304308</id><published>2008-04-23T11:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T11:35:02.148-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back Ya'll</title><content type='html'>I’ve been toying with the idea of starting this blog up again, clearly starting it won out.  I don’t have my good friend to talk to about such things, so I will have to reach out to the blogger community for their comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dating sucks!  I know it’s a means to an end, but the game and finding the right connections are such a chore.  The men in my life right now have me so ‘noid (annoyed not paranoid).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Situation #1:&lt;br /&gt;I met this dude about two years ago, really in passing, but we seem to keep bumping into each other so I he’s interested, he seems nice, I give him the number.  The conversation is BORING as hell.  I really know very little about him because he spends the majority of the time telling me about the famous people he works with.  Am I suppose to like him for him or for the people he knows?  And then ya’ll wonder why women in Atlanta are so star struck…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Situation #2:&lt;br /&gt;Let me begin by saying I LOVE gay black men.  One of my ex’s is now gay, but let him know I said that, he prefers bi, but if you have only had dick for the last 5 years, you are gay.  But this isn’t about him.  I met this new guy online.  Once again, he seemed nice, a little churchy, but maybe I need a little of that.  Online, the conversation was cool so I give him the number so we can connect.  Offline his conversation sucks!  I feel like I’m struggling for things to talk about when I’m on the phone with him, but I’m trying to go outside of my normal.  I overlooked the fact that he directs choir and sings at/plans weddings, but the signs started appearing and my gaydar went way high!  Sign number 1: At least once or twice a week he has to tell me he’s not gay.  What straight man does that?  Sign number 2: I have heard him scream like a little girl for whatever reason on two occasions at least, and he has had the twang (not trying to stereotype, but ya’ll know).  Sign number 3: He went to get his locs twisted by his “brother”.  His brother is a truck driver and he previously told me they don’t even really get along.  I don’t know ya’ll, but I don’t know of men, let alone truck drivers that are going to twist another man’s hair.  I just want him to stop being dishonest with himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Situation #3:&lt;br /&gt;I met this guy almost a year ago.  Right off the bat I was attracted to him, but strangely I was annoyed by him as well.  It may have been the fact that he wouldn’t leave my side from the time he walked up to me.  I gave him my number under an assumed name and assumed I never hear from him again.  WRONG.  He kept calling and I kept sending it to voicemail, but he was persistent so I finally gave him and saw him about 6 months later.  He was still annoying, but sexy as ever so I let him hit.  I must say I thoroughly enjoyed myself, so when the opportunity arose again about 3 months later; we hooked up again despite the fact that in the interim I discovered he was married.  Hey, a woman has needs. This time it wasn’t as good.  He wasn’t listening when I said I had had enough of one activity or wanted to try a different position.  It was like he had to be in control of how everything went.  That happens to be how our conversations go as well.  Later, he complained that I was selfish because I wouldn’t give oral or stroke his dick or touch him the way he wanted to be touched.  I was cool, at first.  I first pointed out that I already put it out there up front that oral was out of the question.  At the same time, I was trying to understand exactly what it was he wanted me to do that I didn’t do.  When he finished his two hour rant I explained to him that what he wanted I reserve for real relationships, not fuck sessions.  We agreed to disagree.  The subject came up again yesterday and this time I was pissed because it was his same argument about what HE wanted and what HE didn’t get and what HE was use to.  Then he let the words fall, “I care about you and when two people care about each other they should care about what the other wants.”  Well, there’s the disconnect, I don’t care about him, I just liked the sex.  I guess I better walk away before this gets really ugly.  Damn, I can’t do celibacy again so I guess I will have to pull out the big guns this time around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-7578095178487304308?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/7578095178487304308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=7578095178487304308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/7578095178487304308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/7578095178487304308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-back-yall.html' title='I&apos;m Back Ya&apos;ll'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-114106088497676302</id><published>2006-02-27T11:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T13:17:46.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hero Complex</title><content type='html'>Greetings Ladies and Gentlemen.  I know it has been a while since I’ve had something to blog about and the time to do so.  I hope all is well with everyone.  Sit back, read, and by all means, let me know what’s on your mind…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thoroughly convinced that some men, &lt;strong&gt;not all&lt;/strong&gt;, have a Hero Complex.  What is a Hero Complex?  This is where the man feels he has to rescue the damsel in distress in order to feel better about himself.  He may give her money, run errands for her or even invite her on trips to get away from her “issues”.  Never you mind, what they have been telling us, ladies, about not wanting a clingy woman or a gold digger.  Some men are naturally attracted to women who are needy.  They don’t want a woman who is working hard to provide for herself and who is taking care of her business.  They can’t help &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;.  They can’t “uplift” &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt;.  Or so they think.  But we know differently don’t we ladies.  Just like a strong man needs a strong woman at his side like Coretta was for Martin and Camille is for Bill, we, as strong Black women, need a strong man by our side even if it’s just to cook us a meal, take the baby for a while, massage our feet or caress our face and let us know that we are loved and he has our back.  It’s quite the sad commentary when the only male that has your best interest and well being at heart is your brother, not your lover, not your baby daddy, not your husband, but your brother.  And they wonder why we go off.  Built up STRESSS.  And I ain’t talking about sex.  Dyck comes just as easily as pu$$y, and some of ya’ll ain’t working it right in the first place so that just adds to the frustration…but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After you’ve been out fighting for everything you have, you just want to come home and feel appreciated and feel loved and know that in your inner circle you don’t have to fight because all that you have will be protected, all that you need will be provided and that place in your chest that feels hollow or maybe like someone is stepping on you, you won’t feel that any more because he is there.  Your Hero has come to comfort you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thunder only happens when it's raining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Players only love you while they're playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women, they will come and they will go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the rain washes you clean you will know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams ~ Stevie Nicks&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-114106088497676302?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/114106088497676302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=114106088497676302' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/114106088497676302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/114106088497676302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2006/02/hero-complex.html' title='Hero Complex'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-113520314881618004</id><published>2005-12-21T17:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T17:18:41.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading Really Is Fundamental</title><content type='html'>As someone who loves books and learning, I believe there are some books that as a Black person, as an African American, I just have to read and keep in my collection for my children to read.  I’m not talking about the drama-filled books that you find at Wal Mart by the check out stand or in the book club rotations.  No, I’m talking about the books that bring our history to life and make us think and connect the dots so that perhaps once we gain a better understanding of how we got HERE, we can make some personal as well as social changes to help us get THERE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently, I’m reading &lt;em&gt;The Souls of Black Folk&lt;/em&gt;. In reading &lt;em&gt;The Souls&lt;/em&gt;, I had a light bulb moment when reading over the successes and failures of the Freedman’s Bureau and the Freedman’s bank and the affects their eventual collapse had on the psyche of black people during that time.  It occurred to me that we are still feeling the residual effects today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m older and a little bit smarter than I was say 7-8 years ago, so I’m paying more attention to my finances and the legacy, inheritance I will leave with my children.  In &lt;em&gt;The Souls&lt;/em&gt;, it talks about how many of the ex-slaves began saving their money with the Freedman’s bank only to have the bank collapse and along with losing their money, losing their faith in man, government and banking institutions.  And so it clicked to me that this issue that we have as a people today with saving and credit, etc. is borne out of a fear and faithlessness that was created over a century ago.  And in order to combat this issues and provide for our children a different existence, a different way of dealing with money we have to 1) stop blaming our parents and our parents’ parents because they were doing the best with what they knew, and 2)gain some understanding for how their “way” became to be and know that they thought they were ‘protecting’ us and, 3)armed with that knowledge we must now seek to teach ourselves and our children about the financial systems at work so that we can end this cycle of forever struggling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way for us to protect our children today is to arm them with the knowledge they need to grow wealth and control their own destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of us who did not take African or African-American Studies courses in college, and have only heard about these types of books, but haven’t read them, it would behoove us to take up “arms” and read.  For those of us who did take those classes and haven’t touched the books since taking those classes, it makes sense to re-read them now that we are older and a little bit more mature and hopefully wiser so as to get a better overstanding of the information that is being brought forth.  Then, perhaps collectively and singly, we can take a serious look at the problems that prevail in our communities and take on the tasks of eradicating them for good so that we all can grow and prosper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-113520314881618004?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/113520314881618004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=113520314881618004' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113520314881618004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113520314881618004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/12/reading-really-is-fundamental.html' title='Reading Really Is Fundamental'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-113520140841206272</id><published>2005-12-21T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T16:43:28.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Greetings</title><content type='html'>Reposted from a listserve...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, nonaddictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasions or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great (not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country or is the only "America" in the western hemisphere) and without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith, or sexual preference of the wishee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer: no trees were harmed in the sending of this message however, a significant number of electrons were slightly inconvenienced.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-113520140841206272?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/113520140841206272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=113520140841206272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113520140841206272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113520140841206272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/12/holiday-greetings.html' title='Holiday Greetings'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-113345628731917569</id><published>2005-12-01T11:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-01T11:58:07.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Situations</title><content type='html'>1.  Exactly how long should you wait to receive a "Thank You" when you deliver a birthday gift to someone before calling them to say, "I just wanted to know if you were enjoying your gift".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I have a friend, who for all appearances, is quite successful.  I've been knowing this person for almost three years now and I have yet to hear them say that life is good.  It's always my life is shit.  I'm just trying to figure out what is it that they are searching for that keeps them feeling this way.  Well, I guess that's not for me to figure out but for them to figure out.  I only hope that I don't become the person that is never satisfied.  Right now, I go through these 3-4 year spurts where everything is good and then I get restless and I go back to school or have a child, right now I'm thinking of going back to school or entering a training certification program.  Am I looking at my future when I look at my friend?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  My sister, I love her dearly, but I want her to get out of this f'ed up situation that she is choosing to stay in for "fear of failure".  She has been separated for the 2/3 of her marriage.  Her "husband" lives with another woman and she dates other men.  She wanted to refinance her house, but where she lives your husband has to also sign regardless of the fact that he has NEVER lived in the house.  Well, fool decided to use that as a bargaining tool and unless my sister dropped the child support case, he was not going to sign the papers.  So what happened, she lost the refinancing and the money she paid to have the house appraised.  And she still doesn't have any child support money.  Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  BD2 is calling me with all kinds of attitude because the income withholding order did not specify "how" the money should be deducted from his check. So now he wants me to call over the world to find out how it will be done.  I just don't understand why it is men look to us to carry the load all of the damn time.  This is a pattern with him that is really annoying particularly because he's someone who is always trying to tell everybody else how to handle their business.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are such interesting creatures.  They present one way and then flip it on you later.  They want to pound their chest and show off their "manhood", but then they are looking to the woman to handle everything.  They plant their seed and have children that they like to parade around in front of their families as if to say "look what I did", but then behind closed doors they don't really want to take care of them.  I just don't understand it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-113345628731917569?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/113345628731917569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=113345628731917569' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113345628731917569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113345628731917569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/12/situations.html' title='Situations'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-113268613752521952</id><published>2005-11-22T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T14:02:17.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Moment to Vent</title><content type='html'>I've heard sometime in my past that the people you date are a reflection of the different you's and the things in them that piss you off are the things that you need to work on in your own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends often tell me that sometimes my sarcasm and my shortness over the phone is a bit irritating.  A couple of them even complain that I can be &lt;em&gt;really mean&lt;/em&gt;, something I don't deny, but that's a risk you take when you call me (especially if you call on Saturday before 12p).  You never know what kind of mood I may be in that day at that moment.  SO perhaps BD2 is reflecting that back to me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know he's been angry since our court date turned so wonderfully in our daughter's favor (mine by extension).  Needless to say our conversations don't happen as regularly, but when they do they very rarely end on a good note.  I've been trying to keep a flat affect when I speak to him because I'm quite sure he's trying to get a reaction out of me, but the past couple of weeks have truly been a test on my ability to remain calm.  I don't know if it's the age difference, the lack of sex, the mounting stress from the bills or what but I swear if he continues to talk to me like I am his child, there will be an unleashing he has yet to see.  How you gonna raise your voice at me because your phone is messing up and I have to ask you the same question three times to hear your reply.  Then you have the nerve to blow up my phones the next day because I'm refusing to answer your calls.  And now you want to lecture me on calling you as opposed to texting you when it comes to matters that involve our daughter particularly since you have such a crap phone.  It has never occurred to him that perhaps I'm avoiding having a direct conversation with him because he's an ass?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit I am very proud of the self control I have been demonstrating.  He's called to make other arrangements almost every night that he's suppose to have our daughter the last couple of weeks and I have willingly obliged.  He can't pick her up from school, fine, I will get her and let him pick her up from my house, whatever it takes for them to have time together (and me to have some breathing room).  I ask for the same and I get the run around.  Thank goodness I have good people in my life who love my kids and love me and want to see me have a life too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men wonder why baby mommas show out on them...  Of course, I can't speak for all, but when you are everything to everybody AND you go out of your way to make things easier for him, it's real easy to snap when you don't receive the same consideration in return.  In a lot of instances, it takes us snapping before you act like you have an ounce of humanity in you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the best I can do is to overlook his attitude and next time he wants to change visitation plans, I will let him work that out without my help the same way I have to do any time I have a show to do or I have to go out of town for business, etc.  Maybe once we start letting baby daddies walk a mile in our shoes and deal with the frustration of finding a sitter or canceling plans or risk getting fired then they will be a little bit more understanding of our situations, and perhaps the conversations will get a little easier and generousity will be extended from all sides.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-113268613752521952?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/113268613752521952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=113268613752521952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113268613752521952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113268613752521952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/11/moment-to-vent.html' title='A Moment to Vent'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-113260815270822925</id><published>2005-11-21T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-21T16:22:32.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Woman's Intuition</title><content type='html'>So, it's been 9 months since I've been involved with anyone.  My friends, ok me too, were getting excited because I finally met someone that I was somewhat interested in and he seemed to be understanding of my time constraints being that he too was a single parent.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talk for hours over the phone.  Great, we can communicate.  (Almost feels like I'm back in college.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We meet for lunch.  Not so great, the voice and the face don't match up, but I pull it off and laugh at his jokes and we have a pretty good lunch date.  One friend says I'm being shallow, but that's like the pot calling the kettle black coming from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, maybe I am being a little bit shallow...So we set a second date just to be sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is going well.  He's excited.  I'm excited.  I call him an hour before the date to get directions.  He's still straightening up.  Good, I hate going to a man's home and feeling like I don't want to sit down anywhere let alone use the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes before I am about to walk out of the door, he calls me to say he has been called in to work.  WTF!!!  You aren't a doctor.  Ok, calm down.  I know in the computer world things happen, plans get changed.  That's cool.  Call me when you're done and maybe we can still salvage the date.  In the meantime, I will not be sitting at home wasting a free night of babysitting.  Call up the girls, I'm in for the night's events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't hear from What's his name until 6:55am and it's a text message.  Apparently, he's just getting in from work.  12 hours.  That's impressive.  He's going to get some rest and we will talk later.  Well, he must still be resting because outside of a quick email, I haven't heard a damn thing.  Everything inside me is screaming "HE'S MARRIED!  And he got caught trying to play single or came real close to being caught."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether he is or not is really of no consequence at this point.  The issue I have is the same as always, the inconsideration and disrespect for another person.  Is it so hard to pick up a phone, send some flowers, drop a text message and offer up an apology or an explanation?  I could easily shake this off as just him, but I keep hearing time and time again from girlfriends that they face the same crap just in a different form.  What is up with men?  Were we, females, the only ones taught how to act right as children and so now as adults can act right??  I will surely not raise my son to become another one of the pack.  He will stand out because he will show respect to women and he will be considerate of other's time, and most of all, he will know that not calling is not the answer.  That only infuriates a woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-113260815270822925?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/113260815270822925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=113260815270822925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113260815270822925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113260815270822925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/11/womans-intuition.html' title='Woman&apos;s Intuition'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-113104119960135897</id><published>2005-11-03T12:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T13:06:39.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions</title><content type='html'>I'm really not in the frame of mind to write.  I just felt like I should being that I made the big "announcement" that I was back and haven't written anything since.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I have to pat myself on the back.  I set a goal for myself with my Pure Romance business and I met it.  I won the Gift Basket contest at our bi-monthly training and now have the opportunity to win $250 in free product!!! (That's like winning a beginning "kit" or store.) I'm keeping my fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, what questions do I have?  Plenty and of course they are male-centered.  These are not listed in any kind of predetermined order, just whatever rolls off of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why&lt;/strong&gt; would any man think it's ok to ask his child's mother to let him use her car so he can go visit some other woman???  Add to that the fact that he is still married and claims to want his wife back.  Why would you even put yourself in that kind of situation?  You don't have enough going on with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why&lt;/strong&gt; do some men feel it's ok to bring all kinds of women around their children and can't see how disrespectful that is to them and the children?  Does society support this kind of behavior with men, but then condemn women for "hoing" in front of their children?  Why is it more important for the woman to appear chase, but it's ok for the man to model being a ho?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If&lt;/strong&gt; I'm paying for the meal, why do you feel the need to ask me since when did I start balling?  Can't you just be grateful for a free meal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What&lt;/strong&gt; does it really mean when someone tells you that you are an “intense” person?  Are they calling you crazy is a nice way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have&lt;/strong&gt; the gods gone crazy or am I just working in a nut house? (and not the kind of nuts I like!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why&lt;/strong&gt; do men disappear for periods (short or long) at a time?  If you don’t want to talk, say that instead of ignoring the phone calls or what have you.  Don’t they know that just pisses us off?  We grown, say what's on your mind for real and cut out all the BS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why&lt;/strong&gt; is it we as people still don't understand how much our actions or inactions affect other people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What&lt;/strong&gt; would drive someone to actually go through with taking his own life?  I know what drives you to the thoughts, I've been there before and it's a very dark, lonely place, but thankfully I was pulled out of that darkness.  But what actually pushes you to go through with it?  YOU, a leader in the community, a friend and helper to everyone; was there no one there who could help you?  Did you even know what an empty space, a dark space your abscence would leave?  I bet you don't even know the magnitude of this loss or the numbers of people you have touched with your life.  Some of us are mad, sad, stunned, in disbelief, denial and confused over the news of your passing.  Who will be there to carry the torch now that your light no longer shines?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-113104119960135897?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/113104119960135897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=113104119960135897' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113104119960135897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/113104119960135897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/11/questions.html' title='Questions'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112930767872747465</id><published>2005-10-14T11:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T11:41:29.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Job Posting</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Position:&lt;/strong&gt;  Life Partner / Husband&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Post Date:&lt;/strong&gt;  10/14/05&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vacancies:&lt;/strong&gt;  1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Range:&lt;/strong&gt;  20-50+ years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Title Code:&lt;/strong&gt;  200175&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Close Date:&lt;/strong&gt;  Open&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Job Summary:&lt;/strong&gt;  Incumbent is responsible for the provision of love, friendship and communication in the pursuit of a sustainable partnership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Distinguishing Characteristics:&lt;/strong&gt;  Life partner/husband is a stand-alone class; responsible for helping to develop and maintain a loving partnership that is grounded in mutual respect, honesty and love for one another.  The incumbent is responsible for engaging in open communication with partner, heading the household and providing loving discipline for the children as well as acting as a positive role model for the children within the household and the community.  Incumbent seeks to comfort and support his partner in all aspects of their life experiences.  In return, she shall provide him with comfort and support throughout all aspects of their life experiences.  Incumbent shall provide for the sexual gratification of his partner and vice versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Essential Duties:&lt;/strong&gt;  Maintain honest communication; contribute to the financial, emotional and spiritual well-being of the household; provide guidance for the children through daily interactions; forsakes all others and remains true to his life partner and children; gives unselfishly to his family and to his community; assists in building a spiritual foundation from which the family can grow; participates in consultation and decision making with life partner to map the direction of the household; attends various children’s appointments and school functions as needed; performs various support duties such as picking up the children from school, helping with homework, cooking, cleaning and other household chores; nurtures relationship with life partner inclusive of an active, satisfying sex life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Skills:&lt;/strong&gt;  Excellent written, verbal and nonverbal communication skills; able to express and convey emotions and needs to partner; excellent parenting skills, disciplinarian; able to set and manage budgets; multitasker, able to oversee household projects to completion; adequate culinary skills; hustler, entrepreneur; excellent lover, highly skilled in the art of cunnilingus and the female orgasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Knowledge:&lt;/strong&gt;  Principles and practices of successful relationships, child development and spiritual preparedness.  Also maintains knowledge in financial planning and budgeting, project management and leadership.  Other knowledge areas include therapeutic massage techniques, event planning and the art of love making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Minimum Qualifications:&lt;/strong&gt;  At least 5’7”, weight proportional to height, attractive (to be determined by interviewer); single or divorced; male of color; 29-42 years of age; loves children, has 0-2 children; independent homeowner (renter without roommates acceptable); good to average credit; possesses reliable transportation; currently employed; Bachelor degree.  GRADUATE DEGREE PREFERRED.  Experienced lover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Licensing Requirements:&lt;/strong&gt;  Marriage license within 2-4 years of selection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Examination:&lt;/strong&gt;  The examination will consist of an evaluation of knowledge and skills over a series of dates, weekend get-a-ways and time spent in general company.  If selected, an evaluation of friends and family will occur through a series of observation points.  Applicants must be able to authenticate all claims with documented proof, written or otherwise.  A background and credit check may be performed.  Results from a recent (within the last 14 days) STD panel* is required.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Testing:&lt;/strong&gt;  Truthfulness, punctuality, leadership and communication skills as well as the ability to handle stressful situations will be tested periodically.  If selected, applicant will also be tested on sexual function and skill through various demonstration opportunities.  DISCLAIMER: Applicant may feel his manhood is being tested at times, know that it is not, however this is a natural male reaction to being challenged by another person, particularly a female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To Apply:&lt;/strong&gt;  Inquiries can be submitted in the comments section of this post.  Further instruction will be provided if you advance to the next phase of the selection process.  Be sure to include your contact information.  Entries will be judged on creativity and sincerity.  All vulgar entries will suffer automatic disqualification.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* STD Panel:  A panel of tests that include Chlamydia, gonorrhea, and syphilis.  Tests for HSV I and II (herpes) and HIV may have to be requested.  Additional tests may be done depending on the patient’s complaints and the physician’s office or lab's standard of practice.  At a minimum, test results for Chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, HSV I and II and HIV must be submitted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112930767872747465?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112930767872747465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112930767872747465' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112930767872747465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112930767872747465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/10/job-posting.html' title='Job Posting'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112930106371093467</id><published>2005-10-14T09:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-14T09:44:23.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eva's Back</title><content type='html'>I'm back, don't know for how long, I suppose until I get too busy to blog again.  I have definitely missed doing this and the pressure was building.  I wasn't even writing in my journal.  I wasn't getting any sex, massages and I don't exercise.  I started snapping on the kids, hating my job, baby daddies and anyone getting some.  My sessions weren't doing the trick any more to the point where I didn't even try for an orgasm a day.  My back was aching from the stress and lack of the laying on of hands.  And then I started feeling like my head was swelling up and about to explode!  Is this what a crack addict feels like when going through withdrawal??  I thought I was losing it for real.  But then I spoke to someone else and she said she had some of the same symptoms when she stopped having sex.  So that's it, I needed to have sex or at least a massage, damn!  It was medically necessary, but there were no real prospects.  Finally, I was able to get my massage therapy session about a week or so ago.  I swear you would have thought I was sedated.  Once he moved from my back to my legs, I was out.  I didn't feel a thing other than feeling like I was floating on a cloud.  I was awakened when he was ready to stretch me out and then things went in a direction I was totally not prepared for or capable of resisting...&lt;br /&gt;My head no longer feels like it's going to explode.  I'm not snapping on the kids any more than usual.  I'm back to being able to let work issues roll off of my shoulders and I'm more focused on my business.  All in all, I'm happy again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you live in the Atlanta area and need a referral, I'm more than happy to pass the information on to the next person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112930106371093467?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112930106371093467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112930106371093467' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112930106371093467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112930106371093467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/10/evas-back.html' title='Eva&apos;s Back'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112412533173354486</id><published>2005-08-15T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-15T12:03:36.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Scariest Moments</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, while driving home on 285 from what I hope to be the final trip to any store to locate school supplies, some fool ran into my lane without looking first.  In an effort to keep him from hitting me and the side of the car with my son and youngest, I swerved, hit the horn and my breaks all at the same time.  At that moment I lost control of my car.  We started spinning and all I could see is wall so I turned the wheel and we kept spinning, almost hit the guard rail on the right side of the highway, kept spinning and then stopped in the far right lane facing oncoming traffic.  Now, I am really not sure that I even had anything to do with us not hitting either guardrail on the sides of the highway or the cars that just kept on coming.  All I remember is hearing my children screaming and telling that it was going to be alright and we were going to be ok.  And I do remember reaching out for my son who was sitting in the front passenger seat.  It was by grace that we came out of that without being hit, hurt or injuring someone else.  Can someone sing, “Angels watching over me…”?  In the meantime, the fool that started the chain of events just kept driving.  We made it over to the emergency lane and just sat there for a moment while I made sure everyone was ok, calmed my son and my nerves.  No one, not even DeKalb Police stopped to see if we were ok.  Where is the love for thy neighbor???  After my hands stopped shaking, we made it home safely and life went on as usual.  However, my son has now vowed to never play his PS2 racing games and none of them want to get back on the highway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little later last night my son asked me if that was the scariest thing to ever happen to me.  Without thought I said yes, but after thinking on his question, it really wasn’t THE scariest thing to ever happen to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being told my mother had passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Receiving a frantic call from my mother that my baby was having a seizure, that was pretty scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lead doctor of the Ob/Gyn practice I was attending at the time meet with us in his office to let us know that the baby I was carrying, the baby girl I had dreamed about, would not make it inutero another week.  I had to go into the hospital immediately or else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing the fetal heartbeat of my second baby girl drop when the nurse asked me to lie on my back scared me something awful.  All turned out well, but I saw on the video that she had the chord wrapped around her neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So no, that wasn't THE scariest, but it was definitely one of.  I always thought I had angels watching over me, but now I know that my household is covered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be thankful for the small things and always kiss your babies!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112412533173354486?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112412533173354486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112412533173354486' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112412533173354486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112412533173354486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/08/scariest-moments.html' title='Scariest Moments'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112359495382594199</id><published>2005-08-09T08:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-09T08:48:46.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Therapy Works</title><content type='html'>I guess I'm a believer, free therapy through this here blog, the listening ear of friends and PBS specials work. No need to go sit up and pay someone to help you talk through your situations, just blog. My boss has asked &lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt;, Miss Attitude, Miss Buck-Against-The-System, to present today at our staff meeting on a phrase I heard on a PBS special and then internalized. It would seem that she has seen a change in me, a sort of aura if you will, and now she thinks it would be good for staff morale if I shared my change of heart with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the phrase? &lt;em&gt;When I changed the way I looked at things, the things I looked at changed. &lt;/em&gt;What was the show? It was one of those marathons to raise money, but &lt;a href="http://www.drwaynedyer.com/home/index.cfm/"&gt;Dr. Wayne Dyer&lt;/a&gt; was the featured PBS supporter. Simple phrase, but it has lots of meaning. It really did help me to see things differently here, well, that and the meeting I called with HR to discuss my situation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112359495382594199?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112359495382594199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112359495382594199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112359495382594199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112359495382594199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/08/free-therapy-works.html' title='Free Therapy Works'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112317251362563205</id><published>2005-08-04T11:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T11:21:53.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You a Bad Mutha...Shut Yo Mouth!</title><content type='html'>Ok, I have a quickie today as I am on my way out the door.  Anyway, this ish is just tickling me to no end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, as soon as I arrive home the celly starts ringing.  It's Grandma (BD2's mom).  I'm all happy to hear from her and ask if she was reading my mind because I was thinking I needed to give her a call to find out if she needed a ride from the airport when she gets in for Ayan's birthday.  She tells me that she is calling to speak to "her baby" and so BD2 can talk to his daughter.  WTF  Why can't he just man up and call me himself?  Better yet, we now live prolly 10 minutes at the most from him, why doesn't he just come see his daughter?  Oh, right, he said he was done with us and I granted him that wish instead of begging him to stick around so now I'm the one keeping him from his child.  I'm just living life letting you do you honey.  You got my number when you are ready to be a man and a daddy instead of hiding behind your mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Grandma and I always have nice chats and after he exited the phone, we had another delightful chat, can't wait to see her in two weeks.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I spoke to the ex and first I asked him why he didn't at least call his son to let him know he wasn't going to pick him up last week as promised.  Do you know this fool said he forgot.  How do you "forget" your child???  That part wasn't funny, just sad.  This is the funny part, after chewing him out for that stupid ish, I asked him why his live-in baby momma always runs to the back when I come over.  I've been to their place twice but each time she hides out in the back room when I'm there.  He said he told her to do that and not to say anything to me that might set me off.  LOL  I couldn't believe that ish.  Ain't no way in hell I would be banished to the bedroom in my own house (unless I was portraying the role of love-slave, but that's another subject).  And besides that, I don't have anything against her.  The time my kids were with her, she was good to them so there is no beef between us.  I know in the past I have been known to terrorize women in his life, but 1) I was usually provoked and 2) I still had feelings for him then.  None of those things are true in this case, so really, she has no reason to hide out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't get over the nonesense...too funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112317251362563205?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112317251362563205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112317251362563205' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112317251362563205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112317251362563205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/08/you-bad-muthashut-yo-mouth.html' title='You a Bad Mutha...Shut Yo Mouth!'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112300606718409354</id><published>2005-08-02T11:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T13:07:47.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How do you define "Family"</title><content type='html'>This morning on a local radio station here in Atlanta the ignorant DJ who shall remain nameless (no free press on my blog) asked the people poll for the day.  Apparently, there was a daddy, baby and girlfriend that wanted to take a vacation together and baby momma wanted to come along to look out for her baby.  How you feel on that is a whole ‘nother topic.  If I were uncomfortable with my baby going out of town in a situation like that, she just wouldn’t go.  Anywho, others called in with their opinion and one woman stated that she, baby and baby daddy were going on a “family vacation” together and she didn’t want the girlfriend to come along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this set the I-DJ off on a tangent.  I suppose he was having flashbacks about his dysfunctional relationship with his baby momma.  He jumped all over her phrasing of “family vacation” because in his OPINION they were not a family.  In his view, the only real families exist between people who have been married and lived together and have had children.  His intern or whoever the hell she was did her best to persuade him otherwise as she apparently still considers her ex’s family to be her family, but to no avail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is family not something that individuals can define for themselves and therefore can consist of not only biological ties, but whatever other commonalities people choose to identify as the ties that bind us?  I mean, by his definition how do we then classify married couples without children?  Or couples with children who are not married, but live together?  He made it clear that he didn’t think parents who were never married and who don’t live together were not a “family”.  (His arrogance is astounding.)  I say differently.  They may not be a “family unit” pre se, but they can definitely define themselves as family if they so chose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have biological family members, who if I could mark them out of the picture today I would, and then I have friends that I most definitely consider family because of all we have been through.  My Girl for instance, she IS my sister.  As I have said before, she has seen me through some dark years and she probably doesn’t even know all that she has done for me.  She invites me and my children to pretty much every get together she has with her family and we feel like we are just as much apart, but that’s how she and her husband are with their friends.  We don’t even have to ask permission to walk through the house.  Some people just don’t understand that kind of openness though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to the situation at hand, I have two baby daddies, for lack of a better word.  One is more of a Spermanator (I would like to take this moment to shout out Neme) and the other &lt;strong&gt;was&lt;/strong&gt; a bit more involved, but even his parenting could have used some improvements.  All of that aside, I still consider them family because we have children together, but even before that we had a friendship and a relationship.  My family (on my dad’s side anyway) considers them family on GP alone.  I also have relationships with their family members.  Am I now suppose to disown that just because we are not a couple?  I don’t think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even with that said, trust that we won’t be going on any vacations with me, him, baby and girlfriend/wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a completely different subject, I haven’t done this in a while and this one is waaayyyyy overdue.  If you only call up your girl, or your boy when shit ain’t going right in your relationship and you need someone to listen to you bitch, then I have to question your commitment to your friendship and you too get an Ooh Darryl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112300606718409354?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112300606718409354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112300606718409354' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112300606718409354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112300606718409354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/08/how-do-you-define-family.html' title='How do you define &quot;Family&quot;'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112292526739282725</id><published>2005-08-01T14:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T14:41:07.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Language Arts</title><content type='html'>Copied this from an email so I cannot take the credit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Foreign Language of Choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By George Lakoff, AlterNet&lt;br /&gt;Posted on June 2, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alternet.org/story/22135/"&gt;http://www.alternet.org/story/22135/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The emphasis on framing and language is not a covert attempt to push women's issues that are controversial -- be it abortion or contraception -- off the progressive agenda. Quite to the contrary, it is a refusal to accept the conservative definition of the issues involved, and put forward a positive vision, based on deeply progressive values and moral perspective.&lt;br /&gt;Many of the feminist organizations have come to the conclusion that the word "choice," and the concept of choice, is a bad idea. Deborah Tannen, who is one of the best-known linguists in the country, observed over a decade ago that the word "choice" is taken from a consumer vocabulary -- as compared to the word "life," which is taken from a moral vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;Morality beats consumerism every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moreover, the word "choice" versus "decision" is a bad idea because "choice" is less serious a word than "decision." From a linguistic perspective, "choice" was in itself a bad choice.&lt;br /&gt;The word "abortion" is also negative -- the word "abort" as in "abort the mission," as if something has gone terribly wrong. Now you can't just immediately change a word like that to something that's more positive, and in fact, abortions are not situations where things have gone right. But if you use the word "abortion" at all these days, what you're doing is playing on the right's turf, where they have defined the issues to suit their interests, using their words.&lt;br /&gt;What is necessary is a redefinition -- what I will call a "reparsing" -- of the issue. There are four different types of reparsing that are required, and each expresses a powerfully moral idea grounded in a progressive moral perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's begin with the two ideas that Howard Dean &lt;a href="http://msnbc.msn.com/id/7924139/"&gt;talked about&lt;/a&gt; in his interview with Tim Russert. First, Dean reparsed the issue in terms of personal freedom. He brought up the case of Terry Schiavo, where many Americans felt that this right-wing administration was interfering in the personal freedom of the families involved. They did not want government interference in this most important decision in people's lives. This idea is crucial to American democracy and it was at stake in the Schiavo case -- and most people recognized it as such. Dean was saying, and rightly so, that this is one of the ways we should talk about cases of unwanted pregnancies. These are medical decisions where the government should not be making decisions for any individual or family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second reparsing that Dean did in that interview was to take up the question of unwanted pregnancies itself. No one wants unwanted pregnancies, and there's no reason why we should have them since have the means to prevent these pregnancies. A very high percentage of the unwanted pregnancies are among women and girls who have been denied sex education and contraception. And yet the right-wing has been denying sex education to students, and in many cases, even denying contraception through its abstinence-only programs. Now we also face "vigilante pharmacists" who are not just imposing their own will on these women and depriving them of their personal freedom, but also their access to much-needed contraception.&lt;br /&gt;In other words, the right-wing is actually creating unwanted pregnancies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would take this analysis further and argue that we should not allow the right-wing to take ownership of the value of life -- that is our value. And the first place we have to start talking about the value of life is on the issue of infant mortality. The United States has the highest rate of infant mortality in the industrialized world, and there's no excuse for it. We have the medical care to prevent these deaths. The reason we continue to experience such high rates if infant mortality is that poor women are being denied prenatal and postnatal care, adequate health insurance, adequate food for their children -- and all this because of the attitude and policies of the conservatives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conservatives have been killing babies -- real babies have been born and who people want and love. They have been responsible for the death of children in this country at an astounding rate -- and we should discuss this situation openly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition, by denying access to contraception -- by stopping the distribution of condoms, for example -- the right-wing is exposing people to AIDS, and therefore, again, supporting death. Furthermore, by refusing to implement policies that would lower the incidence of toxins in our environment, conservatives are actually threatening the health of newborn babies. There are about a hundred toxins, including mercury, in mothers' breast milk, which means that there are a hundred toxins in newborn babies -- all thanks to right-wing anti-environmental policies.&lt;br /&gt;In short, the right-wing is imposing a culture of death on this country and we shouldn't stand for it. Progressive values and politics are committed to preserving and nurturing life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I'm not sure of the exact numbers, but approximately 28,000 women in this country each year become pregnant as the result of a rape. That's a huge number and it occurs all over America. Here is the question that we must raise: should the federal government force a woman to bear the child of her rapist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By denying a rape victim access to family planning, to contraception, and to medical operations to end a pregnancy, the conservatives are, in effect, in favor of forcing rape victims to bear the children of their rapist. In Colorado, for example, the governor recently vetoed a bill that would have permitted rape crisis centers to inform rape victims of the effectiveness of the morning-after pill. Now this kind of counseling is the very minimum that a rape crisis center ought to be doing for rape victims. This is an outrage. This is an outrage against victims of rape who ought to be protected, not further exploited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So rather than trying to respond to some discussion about "abortion," we should actively, positively, put forward these four ideas -- personal freedom, zero tolerance for unwanted pregnancies, taking back life as a value, and protecting rape victims in this country from being forced to bear the children of their rapists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Martha Burk is right in saying that the Democrats have been too afraid to address women's issues directly. But the failure is deeper and more extensive. Democrats have been slavishly adhering to polls that have been shaped by Republican framing, Republican language. As a result, they have not been raising the most important issues in our society, be it with regard to women, the environment, or peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Lakoff is the author of &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1931498717/ref=nosim/alternet-20"&gt;Don't Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate&lt;/a&gt;' (Chelsea Green). He is professor of linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley and a Senior Fellow of the Rockridge Institute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;© 2005 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112292526739282725?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112292526739282725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112292526739282725' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112292526739282725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112292526739282725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/08/language-arts.html' title='Language Arts'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112231011102715266</id><published>2005-07-25T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T11:48:31.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She Hate Me - Live</title><content type='html'>She Hate Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was quite eventful.  Friday, I went to the Sweetwater concert and danced myself silly.  I recommend it to everyone within the sound of my voice or viewing this page.  My only complaint, I would have loved for Jill Scott and Erika Badu to perform a little longer.  All of the ladies did a wonderful job and the crew was good at moving the show along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, we moved.  I swear, at the risk of sounding racist, prejudice, self-hating or otherwise, next time I hire a moving company I’m requesting Mexican workers.  Brothas want to holla and be up in your business one minute and then complain about the flights of stairs the next, instead of just doing their jobs.  One of the guys was clearly overweight and trust to want to be smoking cigarettes, all the while telling me I need to stay off of the third floor.  Naw, bruh you need to lay off those damn cancer sticks and the KFC and maybe you could carry the furniture and the boxes without feeling like you are going to pass out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, I went to pick up my older children in Alabama.  They were with their father (Ex-fiance not to be confused with BD) after the woman who had them called me telling me she wanted to go out Saturday and “we” needed to come up with something.  I called their dad and told him to go get them.  He was happy to have them and they were happy to be there.  When I got there I made sure to watch myself while I was there.  I asked to go to the bathroom.  I asked to go into the kitchen, etc.  Of course he looked at me like I was crazy because he isn’t use to me behaving like that, but I’m trying to implement the suggestions I have been given. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met his girlfriend/babysitter and new baby momma (#4).  (The other summer when the kids were there he swore she was just the babysitter.)  Their baby is 5 months old and very cute and chunky.  About 30 minutes later, baby momma number 3 showed up with her children.  I was surprised to see her, but I got up and gave her a hug and we greeted each other like old friends; me and her got history.  It was like a scene out of a movie.  Baby momma numbers 1, 3 and 4 and all of our children there, at his place, with all of our children running around and playing together.  Just so the readers can picture this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I (Number 1 aka Dr. Evil per number 3) have 3 children, 2 of which are his.  I have his oldest child and until recently I had his youngest child.&lt;br /&gt;Number 3 also has three children, only one of which is his.  She has his other son.&lt;br /&gt;Number 4, who lives with him, has his baby girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There we are, sitting in the living room laughing at the situation.  I know I was tickled to death at how it all fell out like that.  He was nervous as hell and had the nerve to tell me to behave myself, like as if I was going to do anything.  I have long since been over him.  He is #4’s problem not mine, and I think me and #3 realized after the fact that the situation may not have been as funny to her as it was to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Number 3 filled Number 4 in on a little bit of our past history.  We traded stories about our interactions with Nana Pat.  Unfortunately, none of us has had a good relationship with our children’s grandmother, #3 hasn’t even met her.  I commented on how the day would have been complete if #2 and her kid showed up, but other than that I kept the comments to a minimum and let #3 have at it.  At one point he did come in and point to a poster on the wall.  Apparently, it’s the cover for his yet to be completed spoken word album.  Isn’t that wonderful.  I told him to go ahead and let the producers or whomever know that they can make the check out to me to cover his back child support owed.  Number 3 chimed in that it would have to be split across families; yeah ok, but you might want to go get your court order first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after about an hour of watching him squirm and walk in and out of his own home to avoid some fall out he had pictured in his head, I was able to tear my kids away from playing and be on our way home.  He walked the kids down to the car and tried to sneak a peak before I pulled off.  I let him know he had two waiting on him upstairs that he could be on, but this shop was closed to his advances.  That’s when he starts singing, “but I only have eyes for you”.  He is a straight mess and always will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my girlfriend’s commented on how I always end up in “situations”.  That one was definitely not one I would have ever planned out ahead of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112231011102715266?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112231011102715266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112231011102715266' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112231011102715266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112231011102715266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/she-hate-me-live.html' title='She Hate Me - Live'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112188847322598486</id><published>2005-07-20T14:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T14:41:13.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is That a Compliment or What?!</title><content type='html'>I just received a reply email (she will probably kill me, but I had to post it):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Leave me alone -- Since Young and the Restless and Bold &amp; the Beautiful have gone off for the day I'm busy reading Eva's revenge.  :-)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's my Day Time Emmy nomination?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112188847322598486?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112188847322598486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112188847322598486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112188847322598486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112188847322598486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/is-that-compliment-or-what.html' title='Is That a Compliment or What?!'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112187740485106206</id><published>2005-07-20T10:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T11:36:44.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have No One to Blame But Myself</title><content type='html'>About 9 years ago I attended a counseling group session for women with disabilities.  I'm not disabled, but a friend I had then was and she asked me to come along with her.  At the time, I had just started learning some truths about the person I was dating and I was out of work and living off of credit cards.  So I figured I could go find myself some support in the process of supporting her at this group. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that struck me as I listened to each of the women's stories was how their relationships with men kept them down more so than their disabilities.  It was a little unnerving for me because all of these women were at least 15 to 20 years older than me.  I can remember thinking, "It doesn't get any better with age?"  Eventually, all eyes were on me and the group facilitator was asking me to tell my story, which I did.  And then came the profound question of the hour.  Mr. Psychiatrist asked me why I (we) was so willing to give up my trust to a complete stranger rather than making him earn it.  I replied with some answer about giving people the benefit of the doubt, yada, yada, yada.  When he continued to press me, I really didn't have an answer and I just sat there staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't even remembered that day until this weekend.  I was in the shower going over in my head the argument that spanned Friday evening and part of Saturday morning with BD that ended in him telling me (us) to have a nice life because he was done.  I was past done and had said anything and everything about his fake ass marriage to his part-time fatherhood, that came to me and I had been holding in over these past few years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit, it felt good to know I still had my gift for leaving my opponent curled up in the fetal position mentally (and sometimes physically) without ever laying a hand on him/her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt even better letting him know that I know his secrets, those deep seeded secrets that he even tries to hide from himself 1) he's not perfect and 2) although he knows on an intellectual level the right things to do for family, community, etc. he doesn't know it at his spiritual core hence the two faces of HE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress from my original story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep an ongoing journal.  I started keeping one in junior high or high school as a way of working through situations and continued doing so because, hey, someone has to write my story and it needs to be as accurate as possible.  (I would like to take this time to shout out My Girl, future author of MY STORY.)  Anyway, recently I went back in my journal to the beginning of my relationship with BD and began reading to try and figure out what had gone so terribly wrong, aside from the obvious, and to figure out what the take home lessons were from this experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered that shit was shaky from the beginning.  Hindsight is indeed 20/20 because when you are close to a situation you really can't see the fault lines.  I gave him chance upon chance "to make things right" even when he didn't deserve it.  (I believe this may have been what Da Professa was talking about in his blog about single moms, but I would like to think it was just my nature not my motherhood that lead me to such behavior.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing in this 'relationship' what I had done in my relationship with my ex-fiancé, the very thing Mr. Psychiatrist had questioned me about.  BD would provide a little truth mixed in with a lot of lies and I gobbled it up like a bag of plain Ruffles Potato Chips.  He didn't even have to provide an excuse a lot of times for his questionable behavior because I had already filled in the blanks for him. It was like what R Kelly sings about in &lt;em&gt;WOMAN&lt;/em&gt;, "Ya'll love us so much 'til our lies become the truth."  There it is.  I hadn't taken time to learn the lessons from the previous relationship, so I was doomed to repeat them in this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girlfriend advised me that I need to go out and 'find another man to get over this man'.  I think not.  First of all, she's the last person that I would take advice from and secondly, that's what got me into this mess in the first place.  No, I think I will continue to chill and see my part in the whole thing and continue my journey and hopefully come out a better person on the other side of the valley.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112187740485106206?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112187740485106206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112187740485106206' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112187740485106206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112187740485106206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-have-no-one-to-blame-but-myself.html' title='I Have No One to Blame But Myself'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112186354803684715</id><published>2005-07-20T07:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T13:43:24.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Your Hand Out My Pockets</title><content type='html'>Hello great people! I have been gone too long so you know I have a lot to say. Right now though I have to keep it brief since I have a meeting to get to in about 26 minutes. Big brother said I couldn't cuss my sister so I have to get my frustration out here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This B I gets the Oscar for "Ooh Darryl". She had the nerve to call me after 10pm last night and before she could say hello, how are you doing, how are the kids, this byatch screams into the phone "Where's my money?" Your who? Your what? This missing in action byatch (truly no pun intended here...she's in the service) wants to know why I haven't cut her check after selling the house. As has become my trade mark when dealing with these so-called family members, I give her vague answers and let her know that after waiting on their asses for 8 LONG years I'm not pressed about getting information or anything else out to them. Of course, she just dismisses that and starts yelling about who she's going to call to get some answers because "I need my money". To be fair, I will give everyone what they contributed over the eight years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me pull out my record book...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila, Sheila, Sheila, oh ok here we are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's contribution in man labor to the upkeep of the house? 0 hours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's contribution to the well-being of her baby sister? $0.00, 0 hours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's contribution to the mortgage? $0.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's contribution to the bills at the house? $0.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's contribution to the estate expenses? $0.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheila's take home from the sale of the house: $0.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ain't MasterCard Bitch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't call me with no bullshit! I know how to change my number.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112186354803684715?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112186354803684715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112186354803684715' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112186354803684715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112186354803684715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/get-your-hand-out-my-pockets.html' title='Get Your Hand Out My Pockets'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112145541094551782</id><published>2005-07-15T14:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T14:42:41.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Must Be Nice</title><content type='html'>Hello great people. I have started a new study at work (leading to my escape from Debulon!!!) and the move from one side of town to the other is almost here! Add it all together and that means less computer time for me, not that I use the computer at home anyway, I just wanted to put that out there. Anywho, it all means I have less time to blog and read your blogs. I was suffering through the last two days. I even had someone go to my comments and read them for me. Sad, sad I know, but I'm hooked. This from the girl that fought tooth and nail back in the day to save my typewriter. "I don't need no stinking computer!" All seems like another lifetime right about now.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine sent me an IM that he and his woman would be having (clears throat, no pun intended) fun tonight. I HATE YOU PEOPLE WITH AT HOME PU$$Y and D*CK. It must be nice to know you going home to something or to roll over to something! That’s ok, I have my chocolate, my Absolute and whatever, my Dynamic Booty V video and an array of toys. I’ll be having fun too dammit.&lt;br /&gt;*****************************&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, Da Professa (see link in the sidebar, yes it’s lazy, but it’s lazy of you to think I have to do &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt; for you) asked a question of folks (in general, right?) to take a look at themselves in the mirror. I really appreciated that posting because there was a time when I couldn’t do that and when I did, I wasn’t happy with what I saw. NOW, I’m finally shaking off the “victim” layer, I’m coming out from an 8 year cloud of grief and I’m embracing adulthood and taking a good long look at my finances and making some adjustments. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of me. I’m modeling good behaviors for my children and I’m conquering issues (puberty, sex, money, etc.) that are normally taboo in the family, particularly the black family. I don’t want my children starting out behind the eight ball. I love my mother and I know she did what she knew best to do and now, I’m building on the foundation she laid for us. My father taught us a thing or two as well, and I have finally come to closure and forgiveness where he's concerned.  I can even embrace those parts of me that are him.  When I look in the mirror these days, I love what I see (I’m learning to love my booty) and it feels good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112145541094551782?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112145541094551782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112145541094551782' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112145541094551782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112145541094551782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/must-be-nice.html' title='Must Be Nice'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112120203591577832</id><published>2005-07-12T15:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T16:00:35.923-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Can’t Please Everyone</title><content type='html'>I am giving you fair warning, this blog is all over the place just like my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called around yesterday checking on family and friends who had the unfortunate pleasure of being in the path of Dennis.  Everyone was relatively ok.  One friend had a tree come through her den, but she was taking it all in stride.  The last call I made to my uncle and his family.  They live about an hour away and are on the GA/AL line.  Turns out the other family members I couldn’t reach (including the sister that was suppose to have my kids this summer) had been hiding out at their house to escape the wind and rain in lower AL.  They had been there since Friday and yet no one picked up the phone to call.  I don’t know why it surprises me, they don’t call any other time, they don’t send invitations to weddings (and then get mad when you don’t show, I guess I’m psychic) and they don’t give you information about family gatherings until the last minute.  Let me step back, I can’t lump my uncle into that because he has invited us to several events, unfortunately the last two I was unable to attend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were once a tight knit family, or so I thought.  Then my mom died and people started seeing dollar signs and pirate’s hidden treasures and it all changed.  Without really getting into all the ridiculous details, people’s feelings were hurt and things went said but not to the right people and eight years later, there’s a strain.  That thought I was having of my feelings being overlooked and what not, it was here, in this place, in this family.  Although none of my older siblings (with the exception of Big Brother) stepped up to the plate to handle business after our mother’s death, they all have their hands out now that I’m finally able to close the estate.  Every time I speak to someone in my family the conversation always goes back to, “Have you sold the house yet?  How much did you get?”  None of your gosh darn business muffukkers!!!!  &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; spent the last 7 years struggling and sacrificing for the cause not you.  *Sigh* I need to go back to my little island and let them be them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***********************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received some comments on yesterday’s blog that have caused me to think, must be why my head is hurting now.  Ya’ll know I don’t like to use the brain power if I don’t have to; I come to work to relax!  I have to take a step back out of Eva’s reality play world and realize that everyone doesn’t see things the way I do because we all come from different backgrounds and have had different experiences and influences.  SO just because Eva sees the day when we (me, BD and Wifey) can all come together and hold hands all the while singing Negro Spirituals doesn’t mean that’s going to happen.  So, I will go back to analyzing the data so that the results show some other reality, collect more data and synthesize that into something we can all live with happily ever after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the most judgmental people are the one’s who think they are the least judgmental.  You know who they are.  They are your friend and mine.  They offer advice tempered with little insults on your imperfect character, never taking time to notice how you’ve grown.  They base their comments on the IMAGE of You that they have formed in their own head.  Protest all you want, but it will do no good.  You can’t tell them who you are.  You can’t show them who you are.  They know you better than you know yourself.  It’s a dead end conversation; just let them have their say and then change the subject.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112120203591577832?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112120203591577832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112120203591577832' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112120203591577832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112120203591577832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/you-cant-please-everyone.html' title='You Can’t Please Everyone'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112111049856894099</id><published>2005-07-11T14:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T16:20:39.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends After Lovers</title><content type='html'>So BD came over this weekend so we could discuss what transpired last weekend. OK. I tried really hard to check myself before he got there. I put the “evil bitch” in my pocket, but it wasn’t long before she took over. (&lt;em&gt;That damn purple people eater&lt;/em&gt;.) It seems like the more I talk to him, the more I’m confused by him. When we first met all he could talk about was family and how involved he was with his and how much he wanted a family. I’m not sure he understands what that is. When I told him that his mother had asked why I wasn’t attending the reunion even when he didn’t have sense enough to invite me, his reply was that his mother had no place to invite me because she too was a guest. WTF I had to let him know that given his reasoning, then he too should be considered a “guest”. He tried to clean it up and give his explanations, (something about his wife being there, the family happy to see her surprised to see Ayan had returned, extra surprised that they were there together, fukkers) but I had to cut him short and let him know that I was more upset about being shoved aside and him not having this conversation with me before now, before last Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how once you break shit down for muffukkers, it takes the steam out of their argument. There was actually a moment when we were both on the same page. Eureka! By George I think he's got it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then he begins to speak some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, he corrected his wife and sister because he thought they hadn’t spoken to me when I came into the house on Saturday. (They had, but he missed it…I knew something was up when his sis came back to speak.) Well, Wifey didn’t appreciate that, particularly since she felt I needed some correcting of my own. You see, it seems that they “both” consider the house to still be her home except that when she comes to visit she doesn’t roam, she stays in whatever room he is lounging in at the time. I didn’t do that Saturday and neither did my kids. We are so comfortable being there that we just go where ever without asking permission. But it really pissed her off that we just walked in without ringing the doorbell. (&lt;em&gt;Now whether my kids rang the doorbell or not I really can’t say as I am usually the last one to hit the door because I’m always stuck getting the junk out of the car.&lt;/em&gt;) He says he told her that the kids are use to coming in and out as they please and that she was being petty. (&lt;em&gt;Yeah, right&lt;/em&gt;.) He tried to attribute it to “women being territorial”. I was disgusted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I’ve been here before, but I just couldn’t place it. My feelings being overlooked, another person’s being justified where have I felt this before…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversation switched to him talking about all of us getting along especially in light of the fact that they have talked about getting back together and he knows she wants to come home, but she’s hesitant for a lot of reasons. (&lt;em&gt;Why does he always speak in terms of what the other person wants? What about what he wants? Is he afraid of hurting my feelings? Is he trying to leave the door open as a just in case? Stop being so passive-aggressive negro and say what you want&lt;/em&gt;...&lt;em&gt;Hmmm, I'm not bothered by them getting back together. I guess that's progress&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He’s rambling about his stepmother and her foolishness. (&lt;em&gt;What does that have to do with us, unless you think one of us will respond to the situation like that?&lt;/em&gt;) He’s trying to use that situation to explain why he was uncomfortable with me being around last weekend. Ok, I have to break it down for him again. First of all, I didn’t ask for an invitation to their marriage, I was thrown into it. Second, his family is going to follow his lead and if he treats me like an outsider that’s how they are going to treat me. And last, if I go, my baby goes. He didn’t plant his seed in the ground and she didn’t spring up from the earth. She has a mother and one who refuses to sit in the background and pretend not to exist. I’m more than willing to make this as comfortable a situation as possible. (&lt;em&gt;Anybody seen She Hate Me, I can get with that, but it takes a special man to make it work.&lt;/em&gt;) And all of that aside, with me and my friends, their house is my house and my house is their house. We don’t “ask permission” to walk around, and if you did, that would be an insult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my faithful four, (&lt;em&gt;I don’t know, there could be more of you that read this blog, but only 4 that comment&lt;/em&gt;) I need your comments. As I was sitting on my high horse and watching “Diary of a Mad Black Woman”, getting angry at how the “other woman” just came in like she was at home, the thought occurred to me, &lt;em&gt;Is that how I was acting on Saturday&lt;/em&gt;? &lt;em&gt;I didn’t think so, but maybe she perceived it to be that wa&lt;/em&gt;y. I don’t know, but I agreed to temper my movements whenever she was around (&lt;em&gt;as I was thinking I just won’t come back over to your friggin house. I got my own place to roam, dammit&lt;/em&gt;!). But does she have something there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other issue is this whole thing of being “just friends”. I thought we had been working on that these last five months (after I got over my feelings of wanting to hurt him). He’s not sure, again. We have always had sex come up at some point, but I’m getting better at being “disciplined” not to mention, this enlightenment period has pushed my sexual addiction to a lower status on the radar, right below my ice cream addiction. So I’m sincerely trying to make this parenting partnership work and I was willing to establish a relationship with Wifey, but I suppose I have to be patient on that one. I tend to want things right when I want it. According to him, she doesn’t want to “share” him with us. (&lt;em&gt;It’s not like he’s going to be sleeping in my bed and then sleeping in hers…at least not now&lt;/em&gt;.) One of my aunts and My Girl told me that I have to go in order for them to reestablish their marriage. Ok, but again, if I go, so does Ayan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112111049856894099?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112111049856894099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112111049856894099' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112111049856894099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112111049856894099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/friends-after-lovers.html' title='Friends After Lovers'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112076845725576948</id><published>2005-07-07T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T14:10:27.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She Got Kids</title><content type='html'>I was talking to a male friend a few weeks ago about the ever continuing insanity that is my relationship with my baby daddy. While trying to be supportive, this friend makes the statement that he (baby daddy) should have been more responsible when dating me because as a single mom I'm more vulnerable. EXCUSE ME!?! He tried to explain his way out of that one, but the damage was done. I was quite offended. Since when did being a single mother make me "vulnerable"? If anything it has taught me more about what I can accomplish on my own, what type of mate I can/want to be and what I want in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could see if he had said something to the effect of BD should have been more responsible in dealing with my children. That would have made more sense to me. I make it clear to people that I date, that they are dating me and not my children. If the relationship becomes serious, I will eventually introduce them, however, my children have parents, and therefore I am not looking for any replacements. If you make it to the point of being introduced to the children, then their feelings have to be considered and boundaries established so as to spare them any undue harm. BD interacted with my children, even babysat for me when I had to work late. They grew to love him and looked forward to seeing him. My son at one point asked me to work late so they could spend time together. (Or it could have been a ploy to play X-Box. It's all the same to him.) And of course, I had a child with him. That's where things got really muddy and ugly. He didn't want to spend time with the kids any more and didn't feel it was his "responsibility" to watch them for me. Funny, because it was all good when you were pretending to be single and you were hitting that. I guess he must have been having a moment, because he does watch them on occasion and he has invited my son to RoP, something I'm not so convinced is the right thing to do. You really have to be careful about who is modeling "manhood" for your man-child. But that's a whole 'nother subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use to be the type that my male friends would always say things like, "I can't wait for the day when some man tames your ass". When did I become the one they take pity on?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112076845725576948?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112076845725576948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112076845725576948' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112076845725576948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112076845725576948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/she-got-kids.html' title='She Got Kids'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112066170464858362</id><published>2005-07-06T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T09:55:04.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>People Really Need to Check Themselves</title><content type='html'>LMAO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a planner.  I have to know what I'm doing the week before, the month before, etc.  Not that I can't be spontaneous, but the important things need to be planned.  (Hell, I am now planning a reunion that is to take place in 2007.)  I started looking for someone to keep my older two this month back in April.  I had two people who said they wanted them for the summer.  Cool, we set... or are we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May rolls around and my primary arrangement tells me that she wants the kids as soon as we come back from the family reunion in late June.  Ok, cool.  That will give me more time to pack and be ready ahead of time for the move date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June gets here and it’s the week before the reunion and my primary is telling me to hold off on bringing the kids because she’s made plans to go see her sister.  Ok, I’ll just call when we get back and we can arrange something then.  In the meantime, I call my backup, one of my sisters, and she is still hemming and hawing about getting them for the summer, but she does let me know that should anything happen to me she wants custody of all three.  Oh, ok.  Isn’t that so very sweet of her.  RIGHT.  I guess I better go back and tell the day care they will be here after all.  Dammit, they want $200/week just for the two.  That’s a big jump from what I was paying during the school year.  And WTH is an “Activity Fee” and why does it have to be paid every week?!?  I just roll my eyes to heaven and take it all in.  It’s all good, we can handle this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now July and I have resigned myself to the idea of having the children with me the entire summer.  I will just work on sending them somewhere for the week of the move, because while I like to plan ahead, packing is a whole ‘nother story.  Then I get a call at almost midnight last night from the primary.  She wants me to drive the kids to AL this week so she can take them to her home town.  LOL, hmmm.  Well, this has caught me off guard.  I haven’t spoken to her in 2 or 3 weeks.  I politely let her know that the kids have some things they need to do to get ready for their new school and once we have completed that I will give her a call.  You know she gets an “Ooh Darryl”, but I love her to pieces, and I’m too thrilled to have somewhere for them to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, I get to the day care yesterday and I’m handed a returned check.  It’s not mine, it’s BD2’s.  He pays the third day care bill.  So I ask the manager if they have called him.  Of course not, they want me to relay the message.  I’m not about to do that, they need to handle their business like business owners and call him to discuss the matter.  She’s my child, but that’s his bill and his bank account.  They both get an “Ooh Darryl”, the day care because they act like they are scared to talk to him, but if they want their money they better get over that right quick and fast and him, well, for the obvious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112066170464858362?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112066170464858362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112066170464858362' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112066170464858362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112066170464858362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/people-really-need-to-check-themselves.html' title='People Really Need to Check Themselves'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112058567493890318</id><published>2005-07-05T12:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T12:47:54.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And Now...</title><content type='html'>I have received a call from BD2 letting me know that he is dropping my daughter off at day care.  OK, I'm thinking why is this news, I mean besides the fact that is well after 12pm?  It seems that once again he's picking and choosing when he wants to be a daddy.  For months we have been discussing summer visitation.  He wanted 4 weeks, I was only willing to give him 2 weeks.  Eventually, I gave in to the 4 weeks, even had the lawyer change the paperwork against his counsel.  BD2 and I decided that since his reunion kicked off July that would be the month Ayan would spend with him.  Now, that July is here this negro has amnesia.  He doesn't remember us agreeing on July and he hasn't "prepared" for her stay.  But he does remember that I would not agree with her staying with him from May (when he wanted to pull her out of her present day care) until I moved at the end of this month.  If you can't keep her for one month, how the hell would you have kept her for two?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could pick and choose the days I wanted to be a mommy: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nope, sorry kiddies, you have to feed and clothe yourselves, Mommy doesn't feel like working.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Uhm sorry, I'm not &lt;em&gt;prepared&lt;/em&gt; for you this month, do you think you can find somewhere else to be?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gee, I'm such a busy person, I have no time for you child, can you go entertain yourself somewhere away from Mommy?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm still in my prime and should be dating, I can't have children on my arm, not to mention carseats and diapers in my car tarnishing my rep.  Here's some money for day care kiddies, I'll be back when I'm through being the PLAYA PLAYA and ready for someone to take care of my old ass. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm DONE.  There's no winning here, so I'm just going to have to let that rolling stone roll. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once read somewhere that the thing we try most not to be like, we become.  Some of these "daddies" trying so hard not to be like theirs might want to take heed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112058567493890318?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112058567493890318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112058567493890318' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112058567493890318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112058567493890318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/and-now.html' title='And Now...'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112057641233521524</id><published>2005-07-05T10:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T13:51:40.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Reunion</title><content type='html'>I couldn’t wait to get back to work after the holiday weekend. As much as I hate this place I can find relief here from personal strife by burying myself in my work. What I thought would be a good weekend, turned shitty before I knew what was going on! BD2’s family reunion was in town this weekend. I’ve known about it, I’ve sat and broken bread with him and his family at the beginning of one of their planning meetings, and I was truly looking forward to meeting his mother and other family members. Maybe now I could get past the IMAGE and get a glimpse at who he truly is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday afternoon I received no less than 3 phone calls tracking my whereabouts and ETA. Dang, can a sister get something to eat, maybe wash up the baby and make her all cute before taking her to see her grandmother. Mommas know how it is when you meeting the family for the first time. When we arrived he wasn’t there, but his mother, grandfather and sister (and her children) were so we (me and my children) chilled out, you know a little small talk, reviewed my family reunion pictures and just caught up on things. The kids were doing their own thing and when they got tired of being told not to run in the house, went outside to play. I greeted the neighbors and&lt;em&gt; they&lt;/em&gt; asked if I could bring the kids back tomorrow so their daughter could play with my daughter. Sure I will, they need to play outside and not on that Playstation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to later that evening, BD2’s (step) dad, brother and brother-in-law come to visit. This is my first time meeting dad and he’s like a whirlwind, but kind of explains some of stepbrother’s quirkiness. BD2 doesn’t seem to fit into this crowd at all, makes me wonder what it would be like to see him interacting with his biological father. Would their mannerisms be more alike? Who knows, behavior is both nurtured and given to us by nature. As I’m going over these thoughts in my head, wifey shows up and says her hellos to everyone including me and my daughter; a bit of an awkward moment. Although she said we should keep in touch, that hasn’t happened. Dad pulls BD2 to the side to whisper some manly wisdom and then they get ready to leave. I go upstairs to check on my other two and find one on the computer and the other curled up on the floor. I know the little one is sleepy so I change her diaper and try to put her to sleep but she’s not hearing it. BD2 comes in and tells me that he hopes she falls asleep before I leave because he’s “gone” and he knows she will probably act up when I get ready to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait a minute, you’re gone? Where are you going?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“To the hotel where everybody else is.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m dumbfounded. How are you going to leave without making sure that your mother and daughter are taken care of for the night? And I don’t get an invitation? You just gonna leave me here? Ain’t this a bitch. I look out the window and notice that wifey’s car is still parked on the curb and realize why I’m banished to the house. As I’m trying to blow up the inflatable bed for mom I ask when will they be leaving and let her know I will do my best to come back before they leave. She wants to know why I’m not attending the family reunion. I let her know it’s because her son did not invite me. We continue chatting and I give up on trying to inflate the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the weekend was pretty much the same. I spoke to his mother Saturday morning and she asked if I would take her to get her hair done. While not in my plans for the day, I said yes. I tell her I will be there in an hour and a half to take her. When I get there she’s not ready so I wait. Thirty minutes go by and she is no closer to being ready than when I first got there. About this time wifey comes walking in, so I let his mom know I have one more errand to run and I’ll be back to pick her up. An hour passes and we get back to the house. Mom is sleep and wifey is still there. Inside I’m screaming, but I’m a woman of my word so I wait while he tries to wake her. The kids take off across the street to play. Great, now if I want to leave there will be a scene. Wifey and his sister leave so I take the opportunity to do my daughter’s hair and finish getting her ready to go to the reunion. Once everyone is ready, we part and go our separate ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who knows me knows that I complain about having little to no help with my kids, but the minute they are out of my sight I’m missing them immensely. People close to me also know that normally, I do not let my children go anywhere without me before the age of two, but with this last one I have broken all of my rules. That’s why it pisses me off when BD2 goes to thumping his chest and tries to block &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; from seeing my own child! I gave him a courtesy call Sunday to let him know that I wanted to pick up my baby on Monday to go watch fireworks; not a problem he says, my sister and mom may even want to go. So why then when I call on Monday to let him know my planned arrival time am I met with such hostility? “My family is still here”… “why do you have to see her everyday of my family reunion?” The reunion was Friday-Sunday and it’s now Monday, get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words are exchanged. I remind him that I did call yesterday to make him aware of my plans. I also point out to him that any time he has any sort of extended visitation he pulls this shit and tries to block me from seeing my child. I let him know that he and wifey can play house all day long, but Ayan will always be MY child and that at this point visitation is a privilege, not a right, at least not until &lt;strong&gt;he&lt;/strong&gt; signs the papers making it so. More words are exchanged and we end with me coming to get my child. A few minutes later I receive a call from his mother. I have been told on and the guilt card is being played. I reiterate to her everything I told her son (in a nicer way) and of course she tries to defend her child. I let her know that when they leave the emergency room with her father I will be more than happy to bring Ayan back so they can spend more time with her, but right now I’m on my way to see my child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know why anything he does continues to amaze or upset me. This is the same man that lied about being married and then denied his child to cover up his indiscretions. Why I would think that just because my family views him as family and invites him to our events (too accepting) that he would do the same I will never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we may chat everyday, see each other every week, and share a child I’m still just the bitch that had his baby and a spot on his perfect image.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, some family members know me very well, but this is the reunion and &lt;em&gt;everyone&lt;/em&gt; will be there so now he has to dust off wifey and pull her off the shelf to show a united &lt;em&gt;front&lt;/em&gt;. Nevermind the fact that they have been living in separate homes for the last year and until I made the plea for her to call, she wouldn’t even return his mother’s phone calls. But perhaps she too had something to gain by showing up this weekend. If she was there then he couldn’t invite me. How would he explain it, this is my wife and this is my baby momma? I don’t know how much it would have bothered his family. They seem to be pretty accepting and loving people. I mean hell, this is his step-family and though step dad has been remarried for some years they still view his mom as family. But I guess I never made it to that level and he’s doing everything in his power to be sure that I don’t. Why? I suppose something in his warped sense of reality is telling him that keeping me separate will somehow lessen what he’s done. I will seem more like a surrogate than like an affair. And if my feelings get hurt in the meantime, well who cares. I’m an object anyway, a distraction, a sexual toy, a baby machine and babysitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OBJECTS DON’T HAVE FEELINGS… but wives do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so do I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112057641233521524?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112057641233521524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112057641233521524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112057641233521524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112057641233521524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/07/family-reunion.html' title='Family Reunion'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-112006832529084248</id><published>2005-06-29T12:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T16:09:29.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Apologies</title><content type='html'>Friends, foes, peeping tom's and the like. I must apologize and give myself the "Ooh Darryl". A few posts ago I blasted someone, well someone's and now I must recant. It was a total mix up and I am so very, very sorry for any hurt or hardship I may have been a party to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me while I receive my ten lashings now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-112006832529084248?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/112006832529084248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=112006832529084248' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112006832529084248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/112006832529084248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-apologies.html' title='My Apologies'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111998937432780594</id><published>2005-06-28T14:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T15:09:34.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the Day</title><content type='html'>I'm probably late, but I just got a view of the Eve clip that is currently floating around.  A male friend of mine was in shock that she "could take all of that".  Me, not so shocked, but then again I have been a party in fisting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving right along...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching that video (several times in a row) brought back memories of a past relationship which always makes me then compare it to the most current past relationship. In this past past relationship, the sex was so adventurous and passionate and unplanned (so were the children...laughing at myself...but seriously).  As in all relationships, we went at it all of the time in the beginning.  We started off slow with the "heavy petting", ice tricks (Mooky), and then we went full monty.  But 10 years of sex with the same person (he had a few extra here and there, as did I) and the things we came up with always took it to the next level.  That's not to say we didn't have some stale moments, but we always recovered.  Sex with him almost always gave me a high.  It was also a gauge of where our relationship was.  If we were bad the sex was awful, if we were good the sex was phenomenal.  In the drive way, on the stairs, oral sex (him) standing up, feet on ceiling, karma sutra poses (baby hold the book up I can't see how we suppose to do this), video camera, role play, nothing was off limits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing I loved most about him, he admired the pussy.  He would get there and just look at it taking in the very essence of me, loving it, stroking it before taking it.  His oral skills grew over the years (yes ladies they can be taught).  It use to be at least 30-45 minutes before I would climax.  He got that shit down to 5 or less.  When he started working at the sex toy shop HE introduced ME to toys.  And that's where the Eve video comes in *sigh*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a minute since I've had that carefree kind of sex (I miss you Dee and David).  It's been even longer since I've had it in a relationship.  My most recent ex was more of a slow groove kind of lover; he didn't even talk during sex.  At first, I was excited about it because it was different than what I had known, but every now and then a girl wants, &lt;em&gt;needs&lt;/em&gt;, CRAVES the rough shit (without the pain, thanks).  Somehow sex with him always felt planned even if it wasn't.  We didn't play at it or with it or have very many occasions when accessories were used, there was no role playing.  Hell, he wasn't even sure he could deal with my sexual openness. He did get over that right quick and fast, but it made me feel like I was corrupting a good guy.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY did I stick around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was open to experiencing new things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to be mature about my decisions for being in a relationship.  I mean the other was good in bed, but he lacked in every other category.  I can't go picking relationships based on how good someone is in bed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had good anal.  Fo' Sho' it was good!  He wasn't all that innocent apparently.  That first time he was so smmmoooth, he put it on me before I even realized what was going on and once I did, I begged him not to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all in all, I guess I would say that each had their stellar moves.  Neither was "better" or "best", they were just different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111998937432780594?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111998937432780594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111998937432780594' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111998937432780594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111998937432780594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/back-in-day.html' title='Back in the Day'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111990648601853656</id><published>2005-06-27T15:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T16:08:06.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For All Those That Don't Have A Clue</title><content type='html'>If you call or IM and ask can we "kick it", "hang out", "hang in", "chill", "go somewhere", "meet up" or otherwise date and though you ask at the last minute, the other party blocks off that time in their calendar, sets up a sitter (for all the single moms), and makes every attempt to be ready at the decided time and you do not show up nor do you call, well first of all that's just rude and you can expect to get your ass handed to you when the other party does decide to talk to you again.  Secondly, you get an "Ooh Darryl".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then if you try to call with a lame ass story or trip because you don't understand why they are so upset, you get another one.  PEOPLE, it's about respecting the other person's time.  If you running late or changed your mind or just can't make it, pick up a phone...and don't be waiting until 2 hours later.  You knew 3 hours ago you weren't coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other Ooh Darryl's from the weekend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who live in apartment buildings and leave candles burning while they out doing God-knows-what.  DO you know that's a fire hazard???  I ain't trying to lose all of my possessions and home because your ass is stupid.  Save that shit for when you buy your house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grown ass men that have jobs and get a paycheck regularly but still can't manage to pay they bills!  What is that???  No, it's not always about somebody messing up your check, or your boy didn't give you the money he owed you. You knew that bill was due.  You don't have any money in your checking account?  What about the savings?  Damn, budget nigga, budget!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111990648601853656?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111990648601853656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111990648601853656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111990648601853656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111990648601853656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/for-all-those-that-dont-have-clue.html' title='For All Those That Don&apos;t Have A Clue'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111962266312165681</id><published>2005-06-24T09:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T09:17:43.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oooh Darryl continued</title><content type='html'>Why, if you have been separated for hmmm, at least 10 years, and you have dated other people and your "husband" has a live-in girlfriend would you 1) ask me to wish you a happy anniversary and 2)think I would be excited about you giving him some to celebrate this anniversary?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been married so maybe I just don't understand why it is that some married people will go through the trouble of moving into seperate living quarters, lead seperate lives and even fill out the divorce papers, but won't take the next step of actually getting the divorce. If it's that hard to let go then maybe you all need to rethink the situation and actually get back together instead of playing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111962266312165681?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111962266312165681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111962266312165681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111962266312165681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111962266312165681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/oooh-darryl-continued.html' title='Oooh Darryl continued'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111961894389195460</id><published>2005-06-24T08:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T08:38:11.206-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Subject of Blogging</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fishgrease.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-gotcha-ho-card-in-my-back-pocket.html"&gt;Blog Card&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kae said it all, I have nothing else to add at this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111961894389195460?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111961894389195460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111961894389195460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111961894389195460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111961894389195460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/on-subject-of-blogging.html' title='On the Subject of Blogging'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111953609732546397</id><published>2005-06-23T08:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T13:39:34.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oooh Darryl</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;A girlfriend and I have come up with a saying for people that do stupid stuff aptly named after someone who shall remain faceless. We decided it would be good to keep a list and at the end of the year host the Darryl awards for the dumbest of the dumb, so from time to time I will be posting the "Ooh Darryl Moments" and you can vote on the deserving one and please feel free to add to the list. The list generated will drive the categories for the award ceremony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June 23, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• I’m sure you all have heard the story by now, but, Reuben Houston gets an “Ooh Darryl” nod. You can read about his folly here &lt;a href="http://www.ajc.com/sports/content/sports/gatech/0605/23houston.html"&gt;Houston&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• My dear sister L, had a friend of hers come to the reunion with her. She waited until we were probably an hour away from Grandmother’s to turn them around and have them go back. Why? No one really knows but her. When they left, she then got them lost on the way back to I-95S so they did not make it back to Miami until 3:30am. We left SC at 12:30pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• I’m debating adding this one because it may incriminate the messenger, but what the hell. So the “Ooh Darryl” moment comes in when someone proceeds to leave a post on my page. If I offended your feminine sensibilities so much those three years ago, why go through the trouble of “researching” who I am and then leaving a post on my blog page so I know you were here. Is it about the attention and it matters not where it comes from or are you now ready to go there? (To clarify, it's a question, not a hit.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• I almost forgot about this one, until a friend of mine just reminded me. Tiy-E Muhammad. &lt;a href="http://www.ajc.com/news/content/metro/atlanta/0605/22gilligan.html"&gt;The article &lt;/a&gt;in the AJC really did read like a jilted lover venting, but Bruh come on, your explanations on the radio just didn’t cut it. Who really gets their PhD in Psychology from an unaccredited university let alone one online?? I get those emails all of the time, but you can best believe I’m not wasting my time, energy and money on a piece of paper that can’t hold water. And no, it’s not just about trying to knock a brother down, but when you put yourself out there as a Dr., author and authority/expert best believe someone is going to look into your credentials. Better have your house in order when they come snooping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be adding to the list as the moments occur...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111953609732546397?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111953609732546397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111953609732546397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111953609732546397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111953609732546397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/oooh-darryl.html' title='Oooh Darryl'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111938002538615278</id><published>2005-06-21T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-21T13:53:45.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good, The Bad and The Ugly</title><content type='html'>Whew!  I'm back from my family reunion, first one in probably 20 years.  I enjoyed myself so much I volunteered to host the next one.  Must have got caught up in the spirit.  Anywho, here's the dirt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Ugly:  Found out our Matriarch, my beautiful grandmother, her battle with cancer continues.  She was sick the whole weekend, but she made it to every event.  Cancer is an ugly thing and I hate to see her suffer, but Granny is a trooper and I hope to see her at every event in 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bad: 1) Searching for my 5 year old daughter because I don't see her outside with the rest of her "crew" and afraid that the cousin that molested me from 1980-1983 had her hemmed up somewhere.  Fortunately, she was just playing somewhere else with her other cousins. 2) Having to hug his fat ass when we got ready to leave because it would have been too obvious if I had just walked off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Good:  It was wonderful spending time with family and meeting people in person that I see on email lists or on the family website and some of whom I've emailed, but had just never met.  My girl was happy to hear me excited about family for a change.  Not a normal thing for me, but I truly was this time.  We even had an exhale circle going on Sunday, but we kept the male bashing out of it since it was Father's Day and all.  Now, I know who to call for back up when my daughter's aunt gets to town next month and should she want to trip, I got something for that!  Gotta love big families that stick together even thru the sh!t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did leave with one lingering question though.  These were all my grandmother's people and being that my grandfather died when I was 5 I have no clue about his family.  Where do you begin to research your kin folk?  Any South Carolina Graham's out there, hit me up! And since we on family, any Alabama Gwinn's hit me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111938002538615278?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111938002538615278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111938002538615278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111938002538615278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111938002538615278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/good-bad-and-ugly.html' title='The Good, The Bad and The Ugly'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111878420418662446</id><published>2005-06-14T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T16:23:24.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotional Trip</title><content type='html'>I once read that perhaps we make the same mistakes because we haven't learned the lesson, well I'm learning, finally, to take people at their word and to recognize my own emotion behind the action.  That emotion is what trips me up every time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immature how we go for the guy because he reminds us of Tupac upon first seeing him.  The conversation is cool, he turns us on to new things, opens us up sexually and then we think we grown enough to have his baby.  Only he doesn't want a child, "I ain't ready for that and it will ruin your college career. Besides what will your mom do."  Fear sets in and before you know, there's no more baby and we take out every emotion we're feeling on him.  That ends the relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy how we gave our number up because he was "funny".  The poetry intoxicates us, keeps us blind to what our mind's eye can see-the lies, the potential for abuse, the probability of being used.  But no, he loves us, he wants to start a family with us.  We can atone for the first act and bring life into this world.  Momma warns us that something just ain't right about this one, temper is too quick and he reminds her of our father with one exception, he doesn't like to work and our father was a provider.  But we know better than Momma...  Ten years, two children and one failed relationship later we understand now what Momma was talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, we ran from that situation and are starting over in a new city.  That will solve everything.  But then insane as it was, we meet him online.  Liked something he said on his page, liked what he said in person even better.  Nevermind that our friends want to know why he ain't gave us the home number and if she just an ex, why she don't know about you and have you been to his house yet?  The signs are staring us in the face and yet all he has to do his touch...the chills down the spine erase the doubt, but the conversation with the wife and her beating his ass cleared it all up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We take a minute to recover from the built up hurt, stepping back out into the sunshine, After all they can't be the winner in this and keep us down and out of sight.  We on another path, following the sign that says right instead of going left because it looks like the &lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt; way to go.  The guards are up, there's no getting past the fence without the passcode.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who the hell left the gate open?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111878420418662446?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111878420418662446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111878420418662446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111878420418662446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111878420418662446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/emotional-trip.html' title='Emotional Trip'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111833912351904605</id><published>2005-06-09T11:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T12:45:23.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Purple People Eater</title><content type='html'>That's what I call my anger...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must ask this question again, WHY do people insist on messing with me when I'm already in a pissy mood? My daughters didn't want to let me get my sleep out, (and anyone who knows me knows I VALUE MY SLEEP) waking up and finding me in the middle of the night so they could then proceed to take my cover off of me, ask for juice or milk or "cup", my oldest daughter having nightmares and then waking me up because she doesn't want to go back to sleep, so I just got up and went to take my shower.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the process of getting three children ready to get out the house in the morning.  My daughter, having been up before all the rest, was ready to get dressed when I came out of the bathroom (a first) so I gave her her clothes.  She starts yelling about her pants being too tight.  She's 5.  I turn around and look at her like she's crazy and as calmly as possible tell her to go pick out another pair of jeans.  She decides the ones she has already put on are fine.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to child number two.  He hates to get up for school so I call him until he finally answers with the "huh?" as though he doesn't know what I want.  He's 10 and big enough to have this process down and yet I have to tell him to get up and wash up and start putting on his lotion.  He does, but then in between doing the things he needs to do to be ready he's back in the bed and I'm constantly having to get him up to eat his breakfast or brush his teeth, whatever.  Parents, please help me understand WHY it is that even though we go through the same rituals week in and week out that we have to instruct our children step by step each day in the process of getting ready for school???  That is the most aggravating thing to me.  I come into work pissed off damn near every morning, not because of traffic but because of my children.  Were we like this as children?  You know what don't answer that.  I do hear my mother's voice a whole lot of the time when I'm dealing with my children, "how can you get dressed in the dark?"; "how are you putting on clothes laying down?"; and my personal favorite, the one I said I would never say to &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; children, "it doesn't hurt to want".  You know, it really doesn't.  Yeah, I guess I am getting it back, but I think I'm getting a little extra.  My kids, well my son in particular, don't seem to have a whole lot of common sense and it's annoying.  Am I expecting too much for their ages?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I get them ready and the baby is unusually cooperative this morning, I ignore my phone so we are able to make it to school.  I drop them off and the baby decides she doesn't want to let me go.  What the hell?  Any other day she doesn't even stop long enough to tell me bye.  Now, today I have a training to co-host first thing this morning and she doesn't want to let me go.  Eventually, the teacher gets her and I'm on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I'm making good time, everything's good, I'm trying to bring my attitude under control before I get to the training and then I receive a text message from baby daddy responding to the message I sent him yesterday after he didn't call me back once he woke up.  So I respond to his stupid ass response and he responds by calling.  We argue, I hang up.  Can't deal with this bullshit.  Folks want you to respond to them right away, but they can take all day, all week even to respond to you.  I can spend money running back and forth to my lawyer so he can make changes to documents, but your ass can't even come to the table prepared to have a real discussion.  Bet you thought you could get away with your late payments or partial payments to the day care and visiting her on your own terms when, where and if you felt like it.  Well, guess what, those days are done!  I'm so tired of everyone hollering about personal accountability but at the same time only pointing out others fault and not accepting responsibility for their own actions or inactions.  You a man?  You a daddy?  Act like it and stop telling me how to run my house when yours is so out of order.  You don’t want to pay that much in child support, but you may need to come have dinner with us ‘cause you broke.  You funny.  The child support is there to support YOUR child.  You are not robbing me, you’re robbing her.  Marinate on that for a minute.  I may have to come back at another time and break that down for those of you who don’t understand the purpose of child support and somehow have this twisted notion that you are supporting the mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I feel a little better, somewhat better.  I guess I better shake it off and go get back to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I’ll be better able to “feel better” and shake it of if you stop sending me annoying emails and text messages.  Don’t you hate when a muhfukker know they pissed you off and then they send you messages asking you how you doing and wishing you a joyous and peaceful rest of the day?  IF you leave me the hell alone so I can calm down that might happen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111833912351904605?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111833912351904605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111833912351904605' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111833912351904605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111833912351904605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/purple-people-eater.html' title='The Purple People Eater'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111826541670142957</id><published>2005-06-08T16:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T15:23:15.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I was tagged!</title><content type='html'>I don't really know anyone yet, so I don't have anyone to tag...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border='0' cellpadding='5' cellspacing='0' width='400'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt; You scored as &lt;b&gt;Existentialism&lt;/b&gt;. Your life is guided by the concept of &lt;b&gt;Existentialism&lt;/b&gt;:  You choose the meaning and purpose of your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;“It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;--Jean-Paul Sartre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;“It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;--Blaise Pascal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;More info at &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Arocoun"&gt;Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;table border='0' width='300' cellspacing='0' cellpadding='0'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Existentialism&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='95' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;95%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Utilitarianism&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='80' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;80%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Hedonism&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='75' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;75%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Justice (Fairness)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='70' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;70%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Divine Command&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='65' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;65%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Kantianism&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='25' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;25%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Nihilism&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='25' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;25%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Strong Egoism&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='20' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;20%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;Apathy&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table border='1' cellpadding='0' cellspacing='0' width='5' bgcolor='#dddddd'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;5%&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href='http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=13060'&gt;What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font face='Arial' size='1'&gt;created with &lt;a href='http://quizfarm.com'&gt;QuizFarm.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111826541670142957?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111826541670142957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111826541670142957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111826541670142957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111826541670142957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-was-tagged.html' title='I was tagged!'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111816478738418417</id><published>2005-06-07T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-07T12:19:47.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Moral Dilemma</title><content type='html'>I have a friend, a rent-a-husband of sorts.  We've known each other for 11 years now, he has been known to watch my kids, help me move, fix my car and give me massages (he's a mechanic and licensed massage therapist and I do pay for these services).  There's just one little problem, his wife.  When they were dating their relationship wasn't that great.  Even his physician told him she wasn't good for his health and he needed to let her go.  As friends we provided him with an ear and our advice, but in the end he chose to marry her.  She hates his female friends and rarely does she say anything past a general hello.  The last time I saw her and she spoke I didn't even realize she was speaking to me because that's how rare it is for her to strike up a conversation.  Anywho, on Sunday I received a text to send her my address.  I ignored it.  Today, he sent me a text requesting that I send her my address so she could send me an invitation to the babyshower.  Instead of telling him that I didn't want to attend the shower and pretend to be friendly with her and people I don't know, I just used the convenient excuse that I had a fundraiser planned for the date of the shower and I would just give him the gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I wrong?  Am I being a bad friend and unsupportive?  How long do you stand on the sideline and watch your friend be hurt and not say anything or walk away altogether? Or should I just suck it up and play the good friend and join the party?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111816478738418417?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111816478738418417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111816478738418417' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111816478738418417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111816478738418417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/moral-dilemma.html' title='Moral Dilemma'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111806977754398879</id><published>2005-06-06T09:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T15:08:57.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Blood Really Thicker Than Water??</title><content type='html'>I have to continuously ask myself that question when I look at my interfamilial relationships versus my intrafamilial relationships.  I come from a relatively large family, one that I at one point did not claim, but had to come to the realization that they are my sisters and brothers whether I like it or not.  I have nine, YES NINE, brothers and sisters, my father had 3 and my mother had 3 and they came together and had 4.  My oldest sibling is about 15 years my senior and my youngest sibling is almost seven years my junior.  Funny thing though, they act a lot alike.  I suppose that stems from their individual belief that the world owes them something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not closer to my "mother's children" or my "father's children".  I am very close to my brother "above" me (seven years older than me) even though he's on the other side of the world serving in Afghanistan.  When we were children, I now suspect that I got on his nerves as little sisters do, following in behind him and his friends, holding secret crushes on one or two of them you know that sort of thing.  He had me believing for a long time that my parents found me on the side of the road and took me in; I had visualized it and everything.  Then he went off to college and our relationship completely changed.  He became my big bro the one I always bragged about and then he became a very good friend to me and I became one to him.  When he was in VA we spoke no less than 4 times a week and we called each other so that we could watch the Bernie Mac Show together. lol He even gave me his line shirt after he crossed Omega Psi Phi, an honor even his wife was not privileged to receive.  Then there is my sister in Miami.  We speak pretty much everyday through email, text messages and phone.  At one point I was pretty sure that if she could kill me and hide the body she would.  I took her place as the baby girl and she never forgave me for committing such a sin.  I felt she was against my mother and wanted her mother to get back with our father and I think I was partly right on that, but I was fiercely protective of my mom, so if you were against her you were against me and I had no words for her up until a few years ago when I decided to go have Thanksgiving with my father's family.  Up until that point, I hadn't seen them since his funeral in 1995.  My mother and father's break up was horrible, he was abusive to her, so I hadn't spoken to him until my cousin Tammy's funeral a month before his own.  Yeah, I hold a hell of a grudge.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I don't really talk to my other siblings except for maybe once a year or so or when I need them to do something involving my mother's estate or when they want something from me.  My baby sister falls somewhere in between the two extremes.  Our relationship has never been what I had hoped it would be.  From her birth we were at odds.  Probably another case of the baby girl being dethroned, but then there was just something different about her.  I thought she was evil in the flesh.  I have since come down off of such strong sentiments, but we still have a love-hate relationship.  I gave up my life in Atlanta and relocated back to a place I hate, Birmingham, AL, after our mother's death so that she could finish high school with her friends.  Every week was something with her, smoking, drinking (she thought I didn't know) disappearing for days at a time, coming in late, constant fighting and she would do anything she could to get her way including stealing my identity and taking money out of my checking account, opening credit cards and the best one of all telling the Social Security office &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; was stealing &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; checks.  Eventually she moved out and we started to repair our dysfunctional relationship.  Fast forward to the present... Baby sister is now in Germany.  We get along probably every other time we speak.  Right now I'm on her "list" because I refused to be hustled into paying a phone bill that I did not create.  Had she asked, I may have been willing to pay it. Everyone in the family has been on her "list" at some point or another so we just call each other up and ask "are you on the list this week".  It usually follows after we haven't done something to her specification or we didn't email or call often enough.  This week, mine has been not paying the phone bill and thus not appreciating her as much as friends who haven't been in her life through significant portions of it.  Hmmm, could that be because you haven't made comments to authorities that could have their child taken from them or stolen their identity and caused them to bounce checks all over the city.  You think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note, my girl found my shoes and had them waiting for me when I got to her going away party on Saturday!!!  I may have to move to Denver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111806977754398879?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111806977754398879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111806977754398879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111806977754398879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111806977754398879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/is-blood-really-thicker-than-water.html' title='Is Blood Really Thicker Than Water??'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111782425236946623</id><published>2005-06-03T13:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-03T13:44:12.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shoes That Got Away</title><content type='html'>I'm doing much better today, found something else to occupy my mind and time.  My sistergirlfriend and children's godmother will be moving to Denver shortly.  We have been friends since I was in 10th grade and she has been there for me like one of my kinfolk since my mother died eight years ago.  So, to show just a token of my appreciation and to have some friend-girl time, I booked us a room on the executive level at the Westin.  They were suppose to have a Spa according to the corporate website, but that was a lie.  ANTYWHO, we amused ourselves with all of the free snacks and drinks.  I did get a little pissed that she stayed on her cell so much.  Do all married people call each other upwards 10 times a day?? Just asking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, girlfriend is a shop-a-holic.  Are there any support groups in Denver?  Ya'll will know when she gets there because there will be a spike in the economy.  (I love you though!) I digress, we went shopping for HOURS on her last day here, very uncharacteristic for me, but I actually did most of the buying.  Now, I have two outfits with no shoes or purse to go with them.  Also, I was unable to get these shoes I've been eyeing for a few weeks but didn't go get right away because I hate to take the kids shopping.  Apparently, every damn store from here to Birmingham has sold out of these Montego Bay Beaded slip ons in my size.  I can't even get the shoes in my size online (my favorite way to window shop).  So after that defeat, I turned my sites to finding shoes/purse for the outfits I just bought and finding some replacement shoes for another pair that I have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a whole 'nother story.  In hmmmm 1996, I bought these black sandals with the toe out and strap around the ankle, just as cute as they could be.  Needless to say I wore them to their death, BUT low and behold I found another pair, same design, just a taller wedge heel.  Well, I did it again, but I think they might be repairable.  We'll see what the doctor says next week.  After that I bought a pair of dress shoes in the same "family", taller heel.  Love my 3 inches or more, but only in shoe heels!  Right ladies. LOL, Whew, I make myself laugh.  Anyway, I found some shoes to fit into the family, but I think I will branch out from black and go with Taupe.  I'll probably be able to wear them with both outfits.  So my day has been filled with an ongoing relay race of procrastination.  I have got to get focused on this report, but kind of hard to do with sex on the brain.  But the overall moral of the story, for me anyway, stop procrastinating and second guessing myself!  That's why I didn't get the shoes I wanted and that will be why if I don't have this report in on time my boss will have something to go to HR with to use against me.  And that's why I sent that stupid text message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never knew shoes could reveal so much.  (They do, read closer.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111782425236946623?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111782425236946623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111782425236946623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111782425236946623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111782425236946623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/shoes-that-got-away.html' title='The Shoes That Got Away'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13369370.post-111774321858229277</id><published>2005-06-02T15:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T15:13:38.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Lonely Heart Meets Horny Ass</title><content type='html'>Today has been one of those days.  I'm horny as hell and I can't seem to shake it.  I even sent my ex a text message asking about a phone session at least.  He didn't reply until this morning when he sent me an email letting me know that there would be no phone sex as that leads to other things, but he's flattered that I asked.  Great, so to repay me you just turned me down twice in one sentence.  Stung for a minute, but then I had to tell myself that it was probably for the best, been there done that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many hours later and I still don't think I've bought the "it was for the best" pep talk.  As I was driving back from lunch I couldn't help but be mad with myself for sending that stupid text and giving the appearance of weakness or at the very least giving him the upper hand.  Then I started to feel this overwhelming unhappiness and began to wonder if I would ever just be happy with my life as is or am I just really that hard to please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I suppose I will not indulge in a pitty party my first time blogging.  If I should return to this little project I hope to have better things to discuss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13369370-111774321858229277?l=evasrevenge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/feeds/111774321858229277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13369370&amp;postID=111774321858229277' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111774321858229277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13369370/posts/default/111774321858229277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://evasrevenge.blogspot.com/2005/06/where-lonely-heart-meets-horny-ass.html' title='Where Lonely Heart Meets Horny Ass'/><author><name>Eva</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14935888724296901267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
