<?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-4126430990994082365</id><updated>2011-10-10T06:55:42.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterscotch Bitch</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-528499217701768524</id><published>2011-05-31T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T11:37:44.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Finally Turning Around: About damn time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Well, the title says it all friends. And I'm glad for it.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I realised that I don't need a relationship, I can live without it.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Any mostly, my life never depended on anything of the sorts.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;However, I do know that this summer is gunna be the time of my life.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Awesome friends, better parties, and of course, a shit ton of fun.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;My best friend, (I call her my sissy) pretty much set me up with a fuck buddy.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;A guy she obviously knew&amp;nbsp;I thought was cute. The guy, amazingly enough, she's known for a while.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Like I said, I've got a *fun* summer ahead of me.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Best-friend-fuck-buddies? Yeah, lets go with that.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;New obsessions, new life.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;New me.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Same old bitchiness. That ain't gunna change anytime soon.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Life needs to kick people in the ass sometimes; people become too ignorant or engrossed in their so called 'problems'.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;So I'm gunna live my life to the fullest. if that means getting scolded by some angry parents, taking a trip to the hospital, or maybe even breaking a few hearts--then so be it.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;My life focused so much on other people before.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Even though&amp;nbsp;I would say "It's MY life!"&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;It really wasn't. And I'm changing that now.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;No better time like the present right? And summer being here-- I couldn't ask for a better time.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;So lets make this the best few months possible!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Keep it bittersweet, bitches!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-528499217701768524?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/528499217701768524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/05/life-finally-turning-around-about-damn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/528499217701768524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/528499217701768524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/05/life-finally-turning-around-about-damn.html' title='Life Finally Turning Around: About damn time!'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-3241539551762448481</id><published>2011-05-18T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T20:53:09.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time To Update: Fuck Life You Whore</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;So, Life pretty much screwed me over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;In the past few months that I was gone, I was off groveling pathetically like a weakling because My ex-boyfriend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;(Thats right, ex)was either working, or abandoning me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;We had one nice day, and it fell to shit cause my whore of a mother went on mega-menopause-mode. (I'm labeling this Extream&amp;nbsp;constant PMS annoyance as MMM)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Long story short, shit hit the fan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;He broke up with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;I groveled, I cried, Hell, being upset sent me to the hospital for&amp;nbsp;a couple of days. (A post to be made at a later [soon] date)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Luckilly the morphine seemed to numb out my own pain, and at least let me get on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;No more of this "I can't believe he took eveything and smashed it on the floor" Bullshit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;So, I hit a wall, and instead of merely climbing over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Lets say I took a bomb to it. The wall is of-no-more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;And with newfound freedom, comes newfound lonliness and fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Such as fuck-buddies and Parties.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Never really been a party person, but why not try it a few more times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;In the meantime, Schools almost out (wewt, 12 more days!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;And that means&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;*dun dun dun dun!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Summer fun bitches.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;And for once, I'm gunna let all out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Suck it bittersweet, bitches.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-3241539551762448481?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/3241539551762448481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/05/time-to-update-fuck-life-you-whore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/3241539551762448481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/3241539551762448481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/05/time-to-update-fuck-life-you-whore.html' title='Time To Update: Fuck Life You Whore'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-5082078775793368420</id><published>2011-02-28T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T12:04:27.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Idea Post: Current Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I'm getting this idea from the song of the week, which you see posted to your right: "Hands held High" by Linkin Park.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;It brings up a topic &lt;/span&gt;that people could find a bit touchy: War.&lt;br /&gt;There are two types of war, just war, and unjust war.&lt;br /&gt;The main quote people should pay attention to right now is "When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die."&lt;br /&gt;War is &lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:WordDocument&gt;   &lt;w:View&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:Zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;necessary &lt;/span&gt;, It is the thing that gave us our (certainly diminishing) rights and freedom. Without it, we would still be in the grasp of britain. Hell, without war, there would still be slaves and torturing.&lt;br /&gt;People focus on the main folleys of war, without realising its true benifit and reason. Without a fight, there can be no resolution, no hope, no life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is just war, The war for freedom, the war for protection, and the war for standing up for what you believe in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unjust war however, brings up the main subject. The focus of this quote that I had you pay attention too.&lt;br /&gt;War started for monetary gain, for the sheer suspicion of threats, for a simple disagreement. This is the wrong war, this is the war that makes every death meaningless. Every drop of blood shed for this is a waste of human life and flesh and time.&lt;br /&gt;Stupidity, greediness, selfishness, and all around idiocracy. That is what starts war, this is what starts the pain and suffering we all have to go too.&lt;br /&gt;Just a little food for thought... Tell me your ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;Suck It bittersweet, bitches&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-5082078775793368420?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/5082078775793368420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/idea-post-current-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/5082078775793368420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/5082078775793368420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/idea-post-current-thoughts.html' title='Idea Post: Current Thoughts'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-867329874458941568</id><published>2011-02-19T22:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T22:30:42.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Deffinition Of...</title><content type='html'>Insanity. I'm sick and fucking tired of people doing this shit: doing somehting they thought they liked or loved, something happened, they hate it, leave it permanently, then somehow end up doing it agian with enjoyment.&lt;br /&gt;A good example? Relationships. Say&amp;nbsp;a girl goes out with a guy, and they date for a while, but the guy breaks it off, and the girl hates him for it. but hes still playing her like he has been for the longest time. So that hatred lingers on, till the boy once again tricks that stupid girl into loveing him again. And then it happens again, and again, and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very deffinition of insanity people, is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. The guy is of course at fault for being a manipulative dickface, but the girl is just fucking stupid. She keeps falling for it over and over expecting a different result. This, my friends, is one of the types of idiots&amp;nbsp;I most hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People don't realise their mistakes from the past, and keep doing it, never changing, thinking everythign willl tunr out fine if they just keep going and don't pay attention. Well, sorry,&amp;nbsp;but theres&amp;nbsp;a railing on the road and you've just about&amp;nbsp;hit it.&amp;nbsp;If you hit a brick wall, do you keep hitting it? Or do you not stop and go, "Oh, theres a brick wall there, maybe I should go around."&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;This is what those idiots do, they act like the cartoon that just keeps getting up and hitting that wall again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The majority of people do this, its even written in history, politcal attempts gone wrong, but new leaders make the same mistakes and do it agian, or people building in places that flood or get destroyeed every year.&lt;br /&gt;Theres a difference between being stubborn, sticking up for yourself, and being just plain stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With hope that even the small amout of people who read this actually give a shit:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;Suck it bittersweet, bitches.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-867329874458941568?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/867329874458941568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/deffinition-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/867329874458941568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/867329874458941568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/deffinition-of.html' title='The Deffinition Of...'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-7478815213591961109</id><published>2011-02-14T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T22:00:43.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines Day Blitz:First Time Wonder</title><content type='html'>So, this valentines day was the first time I've ever done anything special with anyone. I was expecting something low key from my man, but he outdid himself. Got me an adorable card, made me melt, got me a heart shaped box of chocolates, we had planned to go skating at some rink before we found out that all the places were closing early, we stood outside in the rain for an hour while his sister came to pick us up. That wasn't too bad though, because we agreed to go on this weekend. (I kickass when it comes to iceskating!)&lt;br /&gt;Then he suprised me by taking me to my favorite Pizza place: Old chicago, and we roamed the city for an hour while we waited for my ride to come. At home, we snuggled and played around: Said I love you for the first time :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may be straight-minded, and I may believe this holiday is just a fake Hallmark advartisement. But This day turned out amazing anyways. &lt;br /&gt;I'm lucky to have a guy as amazing as him &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Through all of this, I notised something... He knows me better than anyone does. &lt;br /&gt;Anyone and Everyone else, I can easily fool, When I'm in pain, or upset, its pretty easy for me to diverse everyone away from me, I dont let people around me when I get like that.&lt;br /&gt;But he knows exactly whats going on, he won't let me be alone. And its kind of nice.&lt;br /&gt;He recognnises the things i do when I get some way. Like if I'm upset he knows cause I'll be abnormaly quiet or have some distictive look on my face. When I want to say something, but then decide against it, he knows and won't stop bugging me till&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;let it out.&lt;br /&gt;Hes that person Ive been looking for, that person who does what&amp;nbsp;I need him to, knows me better than&amp;nbsp;I know myself, and i know him pretty well too. For once... I feel complete.&lt;br /&gt;Kinda a nice Valentines day huh? :3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;﻿&lt;u&gt;Suck it bittersweet, bitches.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-7478815213591961109?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/7478815213591961109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day-blitzfirst-time-wonder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/7478815213591961109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/7478815213591961109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day-blitzfirst-time-wonder.html' title='Valentines Day Blitz:First Time Wonder'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-8028306221788353034</id><published>2011-02-09T17:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T17:44:30.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets talk about Jobs:Good and bad</title><content type='html'>So, I alwasy here everyone saying "Oh when I graduate colledge and highschool and everything I'm gunna go directly to go get&amp;nbsp;an awesome job!" &lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm kinda opposed actually. When im done doing everything I need to, I think I'll go and get a totaly shitty job. Something like working at a grocery store or a fast food place, maybe a bar. &lt;br /&gt;Bartenders hear all sorts of crazy shit. and the pay for them (sometimes) Isn't too shabby. &lt;br /&gt;Sence I plan on majoring in culinary or soem kind of art anyways, its not that far of a shot.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe after a few years of working shit-face jobs and dealing with annoying idiots that&amp;nbsp;i wanna punch in the face.. Then I'l go get a good or decent job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you may think I'm being sarcastic, but I have logic to what I'm doing:&lt;br /&gt;People dont know a good thing when its gone.&lt;br /&gt;So whos to say that once you get a really amazing job, first hand, tht your really going to appreciate it?&lt;br /&gt;Hell, even working at Inn-n-out gets you paid 12 bucks an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top it off. People just go out and try tog et the best life immediatly. I wanna take the bumps, experiance everything I can.&lt;br /&gt;Weather its taking the long way home, or going to a party that may not be the best idea at the time.&lt;br /&gt;Life life to the fullest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Suck it bittersweet, bitches.&lt;/u&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-8028306221788353034?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/8028306221788353034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/lets-talk-about-jobsgood-and-bad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/8028306221788353034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/8028306221788353034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/02/lets-talk-about-jobsgood-and-bad.html' title='Lets talk about Jobs:Good and bad'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-9046500089442058407</id><published>2011-01-25T07:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T07:11:59.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>School: What a bunch of Idiots</title><content type='html'>So, I notised something. Apparently there is this group of people who basically go and interrogate you about your learning. &lt;br /&gt;To see if the school is fit and stuff you know? They give out this list of requirements and have the teachers preech it to you the the fucking bible, Its called the ESLR's or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;Well, int his list, it has a few little details, thigns like "No bad language" and "respect others and the staff" "Have pride in your campus", a bunch of brainwashing bull-shit.&lt;br /&gt;Among this list, is something that I, personally, Find quite humerous. "the student knows their civic rights and practices them."&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else see the hypocracy?&lt;br /&gt;For you idiots out there, I'll spell it out for ya'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Civic rights include the "God-given rights" that are named in the constitution. Civic rights include folowing the constitution, along with the God-givin rights. Things like "You have a right to your opinion." and "Freedom of speech." All sound familiar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, notise along this list of things for a "good student" to be brainwashed, is, "No Bad language" A.K.A, no fuck's, Damns, Bitches, etc. Coming out of your mouth. BUT, the civic rights say that we not only have a right to our opinion, but we have freedom of speech. See the trace of stupid shit circling here?&lt;br /&gt;So, If we have a right to our opinion, and our opinion is that swear words are okay to use, and are just portals to which we can express ourselfes a bit better, doesn't that kinda screw those two "rules" up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, theres also "Respect your fellow Classmen and the Staff." (Staff = teachers, for you idiots out there wondering. also the janitor, principal, etc.)&lt;br /&gt;What if, they have an opinion, that says that we, us, me, anyone, doesn't amount to shit, and we deserve to die? What if they just hate us? What if they don't respect us? What if its religeous hate? Should we continue to respect them? Or should we express our "civic rights" and use our FREEDOM OF SPEECH to EXPRESS OUR OPINION on the matter? &lt;br /&gt;Hmm? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a little "Food for thought".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Suck it bittersweet, Bitches.﻿&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-9046500089442058407?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/9046500089442058407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-what-bunch-of-idiots.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/9046500089442058407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/9046500089442058407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/school-what-bunch-of-idiots.html' title='School: What a bunch of Idiots'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-6740827037859847751</id><published>2011-01-21T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T10:09:31.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fume Time: A little bit about my Relationship</title><content type='html'>You might've read before that I'm in a relationship. Yeah, thats true, I'm in a suprisingly good relationship with a guy named Sam.&lt;br /&gt;Now, generally, loving relationships don't start with a greeting and then the guy running off with the umbrella in your school bag to get your attention. But, thats basically how it started.&lt;br /&gt;And I can honestly say, he's what I need. He's honest, and that can make him&amp;nbsp;come off as&amp;nbsp;a jerk sometimes, but if you don't already know, I like that in a person. No sugar coating it.&lt;br /&gt;We don't go on "dates", and&amp;nbsp;I don't mind, we have nights. hanging out at each others house and just watching T.V. or listening to the Radio (101.7 the FOX, gotta love it.) I like his house better personally, because we can go into his 'garage' and just hang out. I guess he likes my place better for... whatever reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hes the first actually atractive guy I've had. And he refuses to accept it, hes&amp;nbsp;almost 6'0&amp;nbsp;tall, curly brown hair, and fit. Oh my lord and Jesus christ is he fit.&lt;br /&gt;And, to my dismay, he can pick me up like I'm a ragdoll. And sadly, he does.&lt;br /&gt;He always smells faintly like motor oil, (Hes a mechanic), and Axe.&lt;br /&gt;The good kind of Axe though. Not the "Oh dear fucking god I can't breath, go away!" Axe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hes all around damn near perfect for me, hes creative, logical, stupid at times, funny, and can make me smile. Which, if you know me, isn't an occurence that happens that often. Which makes people wonder around me if I'm either up to something, or that hes just insane like me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't care what people think, why should we?&lt;br /&gt;Its not like we're getting anywhere in life by constantly worrying about "that bitch" who thinks we're "not good enough", and she spreads rumors about someone being a slut by sleeping with everyone. &lt;br /&gt;Idiot much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Keep it Bittersweet Bitches﻿.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-6740827037859847751?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/6740827037859847751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/fume-time-little-bit-about-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/6740827037859847751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/6740827037859847751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/fume-time-little-bit-about-my.html' title='Fume Time: A little bit about my Relationship'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-5050989060259452220</id><published>2011-01-11T11:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T16:57:10.926-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ain't life a bitch?</title><content type='html'>We all want to deny it, we all want to realise it. But we all know it; Life is a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;Weather your the most 'perfect', uptight, rich, person in the world. Or the lowest form of life imaginable. &lt;br /&gt;It sucks, thats the reality of things. People break up, Murders happen, People starve to death, Cancer, AIDS, whatever it is. It really just fucking sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theres good news though, *Place good news here*&lt;br /&gt;yup, thats it. The reality is, there are moments in life where, if even for a second, Your happy.&lt;br /&gt;You could be laughing at a bar, or hanging out with some friends who decide to be stupid and pretend to rape one another. Or, you could be with that special someone, and you can look over at them, and see for once, that this second in time, this moment. Nothing else matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup, thats reality. Their fleeting, and can more than likely end in disaster. But enjoy those little moments. Because you don't know when the next one will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So say your boss goes and tells you to clean up the bathroom because some asshole employee came to work drunk and puked everywhere. Take enjoyment of the evil torturouse picture that fleets through your head, and don't let it ruin your day. at lunch break, even though you may smell like absolute shit, don't let it make you grumble and groan. Hey, maybe another employee bought you lunch, or your&amp;nbsp;lover sent you a cute text or call. Hey, its that moment that matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our sad moments, mad moments, and mean moments, all shape who we are. So yeah, It'll hurt when your boyfriend leaves you for some slut across the street, or if he says its just not working out, hey, Go ahead and throw his stuff out the window, Hell, go take it to the nearest fireplace and burn the shit!&lt;br /&gt;take enjoyment out of anything you can, Hell, take enjoyment out of the pain too, because either way. Lifes to short to make such little things, seem bigger than they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Suck It bittersweet, Bitches&lt;/u&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-5050989060259452220?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/5050989060259452220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/aint-life-bitch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/5050989060259452220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/5050989060259452220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/aint-life-bitch.html' title='Ain&apos;t life a bitch?'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4126430990994082365.post-8623052091014387601</id><published>2011-01-10T19:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T16:59:50.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets Get A Few Things Straight:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;﻿I'm not some preppy, annoying, blonde bimbo. I'm not the classic Highschool drama queen who spreads rumors just because some chick decided to cut in front of the lunch line. Grow up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm a typical... whats the word... Ah, Freak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I smoke, I hate, I love, and most of all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I. Don't. Give. A. Shit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I believe something you may not, if this is true, and it most likely is, then just turn around now. thats right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Go click that little blue arrow in the top left corner of your glowing brainwash machine. Run away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;For those of you who are still reading this, well... I'm just posting because I feel the need to put down my thoughts in some form of log to go back and prove a point of saying later on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, for basics:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1) I'm taken by an honest, hard guy named Sam. and I mean hard in every sense of the word.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2)I lean to the darker side of things, but I'm not fucking emo, I'm not a pussy pampered bitch who cuts myself for attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3)I. HATE. Idiots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If your sitting there wondering if your an idiot after reading that. Your probably an idiot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4)If something doesn't interest me, I won't do it. If it doesn't benefit me in some sense of the word, I won't do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, for those of you who are wondering, no, I&amp;nbsp; don't do drugs, because they don't interest me in the slightest bit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;5)I'm halfway religeous. An explanation will soon be givin in&amp;nbsp;a later post when I'm not so bored with writing this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;6) Short fuse, I get pissed off REALLY fast if you do the wrong thing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the difference is that I don't go out punching and kicking the second&amp;nbsp;I get pissed, I give you a redeeming&amp;nbsp;period for about...&amp;nbsp;a minute. Then&amp;nbsp;I just throw insults and if you fight back and choose to get physicall I'll knock you to the ground.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lets make this blog as intellegent and politcally-incorrect as possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Suck it Bittersweet, Bitches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4126430990994082365-8623052091014387601?l=bittersweetlies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/feeds/8623052091014387601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/lets-get-few-things-straight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/8623052091014387601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4126430990994082365/posts/default/8623052091014387601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bittersweetlies.blogspot.com/2011/01/lets-get-few-things-straight.html' title='Lets Get A Few Things Straight:'/><author><name>Vannilla_fox_</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11874346844015460794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4_fNbTzREaE/TTnIezymBVI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/Yt77bUbAsZU/s220/Bitch.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
