<?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-594069197004054229</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:48:10.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>True Life</title><subtitle type='html'>"I try to extract something positive from every situation, even if it's just  learning to not make the same mistake twice" - Claudia Schiffer</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-5454275717708451533</id><published>2009-03-27T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T19:12:11.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sc2HYOGvACI/AAAAAAAAAEE/CnJOkvS7Ad0/s1600-h/bare-feet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 248px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sc2HYOGvACI/AAAAAAAAAEE/CnJOkvS7Ad0/s320/bare-feet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318055585167376418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So one time it was like 7.30 in the morning, and my alarm clock didn't ring. I knew I was going to be late for school. My mom started  yelling at me to hurry up, so I scrambled to get all my clothes on and pack all my books. Sprinting to the car, I pushed my backpack into the seat and yelled 'Let's GO!.' Then I realized I'd forgotten to do my math homework, so I started doing it in the car. We got to school and I stepped out quickly. And immediately felt cold gravel under my feet. I looked down and realized I wasn't wearing any shoes!! I had to wait a whole period while my Dad brought them to school, I had to explain it to my teacher and all my friends!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://comfortableshoes.wordpress.com/2007/08/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-5454275717708451533?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/5454275717708451533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-one-time-it-was-like-7.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/5454275717708451533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/5454275717708451533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-one-time-it-was-like-7.html' title=''/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sc2HYOGvACI/AAAAAAAAAEE/CnJOkvS7Ad0/s72-c/bare-feet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-9097349685952816117</id><published>2009-03-27T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T19:01:43.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stage Fright</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sc2E80T38-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/TTcd9_cv4P4/s1600-h/F8J5QDXF9T3VI2Y.MEDIUM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 184px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sc2E80T38-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/TTcd9_cv4P4/s320/F8J5QDXF9T3VI2Y.MEDIUM.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318052915363443682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So there was this one time when I was a lot younger that our school put on a play. I had stage fright but all of my friends encouraged me and told me I'd do fine - after all I only had to be on stage for a couple minutes. My whole family had come to support me, and they were all excited for my performance. So I get up there, and I see everyone staring at me. I was so frightened, and suddenly I felt a warmness in my pants. I looked down and realized I had peed myself. In front of all the parents and other students. Immediately bursting into tears I ran offstage."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Videotape-the-School-Play-or-Concert/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-9097349685952816117?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/9097349685952816117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/stage-fright.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/9097349685952816117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/9097349685952816117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/stage-fright.html' title='Stage Fright'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sc2E80T38-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/TTcd9_cv4P4/s72-c/F8J5QDXF9T3VI2Y.MEDIUM.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-5965855644736867744</id><published>2009-03-27T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T09:08:12.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Told You So</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Scz54nO35YI/AAAAAAAAAD0/wlXwhPZV-Nc/s1600-h/464392244_f6d58eb3fc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 189px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Scz54nO35YI/AAAAAAAAAD0/wlXwhPZV-Nc/s320/464392244_f6d58eb3fc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317900011017069954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, I was sitting at my desk one day and I was painting my toenails. My dad came in, and seeing me painting my nails, told me to move from my desk and do that in the bathroom. Annoyed, and like a good rebellious child, I yelled and told him to get out of my room. Fuming, I continued to paint my nails. Reaching for my nailpolish remover (since I'd messed up on a toe), I accidentally hit my bottle of white nail polish off the desk and it landed on my blue carpet - spilling it's contents EVERYWHERE. Shocked, I tried to mop it up and proceeded in spreading it all over. In the end, I had to show my dad and rolling his eyes, he said 'I told you so'."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.flickr.com/photos/29179468@N00/464392244&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-5965855644736867744?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/5965855644736867744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-told-you-so.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/5965855644736867744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/5965855644736867744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-told-you-so.html' title='I Told You So'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Scz54nO35YI/AAAAAAAAAD0/wlXwhPZV-Nc/s72-c/464392244_f6d58eb3fc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-1618326279592978923</id><published>2009-03-26T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T11:50:59.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sneak Attack</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScvOfYqRQ-I/AAAAAAAAADs/Vvlyx0FS8BU/s1600-h/Sleeping+Boy+for+web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScvOfYqRQ-I/AAAAAAAAADs/Vvlyx0FS8BU/s320/Sleeping+Boy+for+web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317570823632012258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, I was over at a guyfriends house before soccer practice one day over the summer. I was on the phone with my friend as I waited for him to wake up. He was taking forever, so I finally decided to go wake him up by jumping on him with a hug. I checked with my friend to see if it was a good idea, and she told me to do it. So I headed up to his room and I quietly entered. But he was sleeping so peacefully, so I asked my friend again if it was a good idea. We had a short discussion where she tried to convince me to do it, but I finally decided to sneak out of the room and just wait instead.  I was heading out when I tripped and hit my head on the door. I hoped he hadn't woken up, but I turned around and he was staring at me laughing his head off. Finally he managed to hold  back his laughter and added, 'Oh and by the way, I've been up this whole time listening to your phone conversation.' "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.dormefilm.com/SSStills.htm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-1618326279592978923?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/1618326279592978923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/sneak-attack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/1618326279592978923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/1618326279592978923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/sneak-attack.html' title='Sneak Attack'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScvOfYqRQ-I/AAAAAAAAADs/Vvlyx0FS8BU/s72-c/Sleeping+Boy+for+web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-8349981462615195177</id><published>2009-03-25T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T14:32:24.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Scqi2o5kgdI/AAAAAAAAADc/BY54UoA_w-E/s1600-h/SuperStock_1487R-59437.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 271px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Scqi2o5kgdI/AAAAAAAAADc/BY54UoA_w-E/s320/SuperStock_1487R-59437.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317241369639813586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"One time, I was at camp over the summer. It was about 8 AM one morning and I was getting ready for class (we didn't have to be there until 9). So I was showering when all of a sudden I hear the fire alarm go off. I froze - I had no idea what to do. I heard one of my friends pass by and I asked what was going on and she said "I don't know, but you have to come out!" So I grabbed a towel and headed out to the middle of the field we were meeting at. Turns out it was only a fire drill, and I was forced to spend 15 humiliating minutes freezing to death while we waited to have our groups checked."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.superstock.com/stock-photos-images/1487R-59437&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-8349981462615195177?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/8349981462615195177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-time-i-was-at-camp-over-summer.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/8349981462615195177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/8349981462615195177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-time-i-was-at-camp-over-summer.html' title=''/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Scqi2o5kgdI/AAAAAAAAADc/BY54UoA_w-E/s72-c/SuperStock_1487R-59437.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-7901974368232763884</id><published>2009-03-24T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T14:33:51.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bad Hair Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScqjNAHU4CI/AAAAAAAAADk/G0T-Y2cDj8g/s1600-h/istockphoto_475379_bad_hair_day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 272px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScqjNAHU4CI/AAAAAAAAADk/G0T-Y2cDj8g/s320/istockphoto_475379_bad_hair_day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317241753828646946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, a while ago I made fun of my brother for his new haircut. Angry at me for my teasing, he proceeded to take the ketchup bottle and squirt it into my hair, yelling angrily that now I could have just as ugly hair. But before I could do anything to retaliate, our parents yelled at us both and sent me to my room. Angrily I stormed up to my room and tried to take a shower. Little did I know that today was the day they shut off the water for the construction. Not only could I not wash the ketchup out of my hair, but I had to go to my tutor later that day. For the whole lesson I could notice her sneaking glances at my hair. I wonder what she thought it was...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://craftyintentions.blogspot.com/2008/08/call-to-arms.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-7901974368232763884?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/7901974368232763884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/bad-hair-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7901974368232763884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7901974368232763884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/bad-hair-day.html' title='A Bad Hair Day'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScqjNAHU4CI/AAAAAAAAADk/G0T-Y2cDj8g/s72-c/istockphoto_475379_bad_hair_day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-851561622627784415</id><published>2009-03-23T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T11:11:00.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flour Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScfQjBnWb6I/AAAAAAAAADM/cQ9r6ChChv0/s1600-h/flour_baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScfQjBnWb6I/AAAAAAAAADM/cQ9r6ChChv0/s320/flour_baby.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316447185281642402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So it was the last day of having our flour babies and one guy accidentally dropped his and it broke, right in front of the science teacher's room. So, I went up and tried to help him clean up. I grabbed a handful of flour and held it up to my face. Next thing I knew, my face was covered in white flour. My friend had come up to me and hit the bottom of my hand and the flour had sprayed all over my face. Little did he know that our science teacher had walked by at this exact moment. He gave the boy a detention, but it was no punishment compared to my ghostly white face." &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;learnmegood2.blogspot.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-851561622627784415?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/851561622627784415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/flour-baby.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/851561622627784415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/851561622627784415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/flour-baby.html' title='Flour Baby'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScfQjBnWb6I/AAAAAAAAADM/cQ9r6ChChv0/s72-c/flour_baby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-9009135669297415785</id><published>2009-03-21T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T15:03:53.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScVkPkHAZMI/AAAAAAAAADE/eIhn0ckzDXE/s1600-h/2351921759_fc96c12de2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 187px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScVkPkHAZMI/AAAAAAAAADE/eIhn0ckzDXE/s320/2351921759_fc96c12de2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315765153734616258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, I was driving on my way to a store while listening to an old CD of Britney Spears. Getting really into it, I started singing along to "Oops, I did it again". I was waiting for a red light to turn green and the song was about halfway through, and I started singing at the top of my lungs. I looked over at the people in the car next to mine and I noticed that they were staring and laughing at me. Annoyed, I yelled "what?!" not expecting them to be able to hear me. But one of them answered back with an apologetic, "I think your window is open...". Sure enough, I look over at my other window and it's wide open. Everyone at that intersection heard me sing to Britney Spears."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://karabee.wordpress.com/category/%E2%9C%A6-chronicles/hypathetically/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-9009135669297415785?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/9009135669297415785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-i-was-driving-on-my-way-to-store.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/9009135669297415785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/9009135669297415785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-i-was-driving-on-my-way-to-store.html' title=''/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScVkPkHAZMI/AAAAAAAAADE/eIhn0ckzDXE/s72-c/2351921759_fc96c12de2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-1843111027902505174</id><published>2009-03-20T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T09:36:29.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Misstep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScPF1r9ZHNI/AAAAAAAAAC8/wQquPsEWDN8/s1600-h/Bournemouth_Symphony_Orchestra2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScPF1r9ZHNI/AAAAAAAAAC8/wQquPsEWDN8/s320/Bournemouth_Symphony_Orchestra2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315309511351278802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, there was this one time that I went to a classical music concert. During the intermission there was a really long line for the food, but I was pretty thirsty so I decided to get in line. I waited for a while and then I heard the announcement stating that all people should begin returning to the house. But, the line was almost all gone by now, so I decided to wait for a few more minutes. Finally I got my drink and I headed back inside a little late. The orchestra was already in full swing, so I tried to sneakily go back to my seat. Unfortunately, my seat was directly in the middle of the audience. But, I headed over and started squeezing past people uttering an apologetic "excuse me!" after pushing past each. I was almost passing the 2nd to last person before my seat when my foot caught on theirs and I tripped - as I fell onto the person my drink exploded and fell onto the people in front. Completely embarrassed, I slipped into my seat and spent the rest of the concert trying to hide."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.classicsonline.com/orchestrabio/Bournemouth_Symphony_Orchestra/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-1843111027902505174?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/1843111027902505174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/misstep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/1843111027902505174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/1843111027902505174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/misstep.html' title='Misstep'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScPF1r9ZHNI/AAAAAAAAAC8/wQquPsEWDN8/s72-c/Bournemouth_Symphony_Orchestra2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-3533942862580405448</id><published>2009-03-19T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T10:24:11.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hen House</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScJ_dKEJMrI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Wx7D8Gm7xPM/s1600-h/hugging%2Bawkward.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScJ_dKEJMrI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Wx7D8Gm7xPM/s320/hugging%2Bawkward.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314950649145275058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So one time last year when I was a freshman, I was walking through Main and I saw someone wearing a blue striped polo. I'd seen my friend earlier in that same shirt, so I assumed that he was the same person. So of course I ran  up to him and gave him a huge hug. We started walking down Main hallway (with my arms still wrapped around him), as I filled him in on all the details of my life. We were about halfway through Main and he hadn't said a word. Finally, I looked at him in the face, wondering why he wasn't talking. To my shock I realized that it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wasn't &lt;/span&gt;my friend, but in fact a senior wearing the same shirt. Completely mortified I immediately let go of him, and not even saying bye I ran off." - Henna Mishra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://jjkaiser.blogspot.com/2007/08/fellow-blogger-ed-darrell-took-issue.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-3533942862580405448?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/3533942862580405448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/hen-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/3533942862580405448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/3533942862580405448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/hen-house.html' title='The Hen House'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScJ_dKEJMrI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Wx7D8Gm7xPM/s72-c/hugging%2Bawkward.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-2216743981694258466</id><published>2009-03-18T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T21:04:18.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Suprising Breeze</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScHEKv_pO4I/AAAAAAAAACs/zGhKWEQpJQA/s1600-h/uniforn1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScHEKv_pO4I/AAAAAAAAACs/zGhKWEQpJQA/s320/uniforn1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314744724235041666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, in the 2nd grade we had Co-ed PE. It was hot outside and it was hard to run around in our skirts, so the teacher told the girls who wore jumpers that we could take them off if we had shorts underneath. So, I went out to the middle of the field and all the little kids (both boys and girls) were out there already playing around. Eager to join them, I took my jumper off and ran off to go play. Unfortunately, I seemed to have forgotten to put shorts on that morning. I was shocked to notice that I was wearing nothing but my shirt and my panties. Only a few people noticed at first though, so I tried to put my jumper back on but I couldn't. So I ran over to my teacher and asked her to untangle my jumper.  But then the teacher took 5-10 MINUTES to fix it...while I was left standing in the middle of the field wearing only my shirt and my underwear." -Niva Bigler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.guardianangels.ie/OurSchool.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-2216743981694258466?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/2216743981694258466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/suprising-breeze.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/2216743981694258466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/2216743981694258466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/suprising-breeze.html' title='A Suprising Breeze'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScHEKv_pO4I/AAAAAAAAACs/zGhKWEQpJQA/s72-c/uniforn1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-2563676247663476618</id><published>2009-03-17T18:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T18:40:29.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Need Seats in the Bathrooms</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScBQPdY3NAI/AAAAAAAAACk/qgfuyOBJyKY/s1600-h/publicRestroomVanity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 184px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScBQPdY3NAI/AAAAAAAAACk/qgfuyOBJyKY/s320/publicRestroomVanity.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314335786814354434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, this happened recently. I was in the bathroom, waiting for one of my friends to change for fitness. As I waited patiently, my legs started hurting, and, finding nowhere more suitable, I decided that the edge of the countertop would do. It was one of those small countertops though, so the sinks weren't spaced out very far and there wasn't much room between them. But I figured there was enough room that I could sit there pretty comfortably.  I turned around and used my hands to leverage myself onto the counter. Unfortunately, I used a little too much force and completely overshot the edge of the counter. My butt hit the faucet, and I landed right in the wet sink. My friend finished changing right then and seeing me stuck sitting in a sink, she couldn't stop laughing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.americanhintech.com/products.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-2563676247663476618?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/2563676247663476618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-need-seats-in-bathrooms.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/2563676247663476618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/2563676247663476618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-need-seats-in-bathrooms.html' title='We Need Seats in the Bathrooms'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/ScBQPdY3NAI/AAAAAAAAACk/qgfuyOBJyKY/s72-c/publicRestroomVanity.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-8303515360947560901</id><published>2009-03-16T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:55:59.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Not Clumsy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sb8PQ0x7qRI/AAAAAAAAACU/PBF5L5jIktM/s1600-h/02002persian.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sb8PQ0x7qRI/AAAAAAAAACU/PBF5L5jIktM/s320/02002persian.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313982867040872722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So I was hanging out with a bunch of friends in the edge and somehow the subject of balance came up. One of them mentioned that the other week I had completely lost my balance and tripped headlong into a group of people. My friends started laughing and calling me a klutz.  I was, obviously,  slightly miffed at them, so I decided to make a dramatic exit. I marched over to the exit. Seconds later I was flat on my butt in the middle of the edge trapped under about six chairs. Turns out, my shirt had caught on the chair in the bottom of a stack and they had ALL come falling down on me. My friends were laughing hysterically and it was all I could do to run out of there as fast as I could."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.smithsystem.com/productCategory.asp?categoryID=424&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-8303515360947560901?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/8303515360947560901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-not-clumsy.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/8303515360947560901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/8303515360947560901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-not-clumsy.html' title='I&apos;m Not Clumsy!'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sb8PQ0x7qRI/AAAAAAAAACU/PBF5L5jIktM/s72-c/02002persian.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-6809763883524787466</id><published>2009-03-15T16:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T16:18:07.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Basketball Bloopers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sb2MDzSW8LI/AAAAAAAAACM/a-uNnTfIfaI/s1600-h/450ts1_15820_Kansas_v_Memphis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 353px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sb2MDzSW8LI/AAAAAAAAACM/a-uNnTfIfaI/s320/450ts1_15820_Kansas_v_Memphis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313557132301758642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"I was playing around in the gym playing basketball after school, so thinking I was pretty awesome, I tried to do a self Alley Oop (when you throw the ball up into the air and you catch it and dunk it). So I bounce the ball off the backboard and I jump up to catch it and lay it back, but it went too high and I still tried to get it. I ended up turning backwards and losing my balance as I jumped for the ball. I landed FLAT on my back with a huge thud. When I fell the whole gym shook."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.collegehoopsnet.com/conferences/big_12/kansas?page=5&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-6809763883524787466?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/6809763883524787466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/basketball-bloopers.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/6809763883524787466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/6809763883524787466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/basketball-bloopers.html' title='Basketball Bloopers'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/Sb2MDzSW8LI/AAAAAAAAACM/a-uNnTfIfaI/s72-c/450ts1_15820_Kansas_v_Memphis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-1453050877426037890</id><published>2009-03-14T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T18:30:24.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Snap</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbxZu_ACmGI/AAAAAAAAACE/qfPeiMoG2mY/s1600-h/42-16016528.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 178px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbxZu_ACmGI/AAAAAAAAACE/qfPeiMoG2mY/s320/42-16016528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313220324110800994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So a while ago I went to a volleyball game with a couple of friends and after we decided to all meet up at one of our houses. I went to go get my car and tried to back out of my spot. A group of teenage boys was driving around in their car, and decided to mess around and wouldn't let me back out. But finally they let me pass and I drove around to the exit. Then I realized that, of all people, those same annoying boys were in the car in front of me. They were all waving at me and one guy even got out of the car and came over to talk (all in the exit line for the parking lot). They were being really annoying, but finally I was able to make an escape. When I left I immediately called one of my friends to vent my frustration.  So, I picked up the phone and hit the call button and began to tell the story (using quite a few expletives to illustrate my annoyance). Finally, I finished my story and I hear an awkward pause and then an “um...excuse me?” and suddenly I realize it’s my MOM on the phone. Completely shocked I tried to laugh and after a few more awkward seconds we ended the call. A year later my parents still haven't forgotten."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://pro.corbis.com/images/42-16016528.jpg?size=67&amp;amp;uid={4E684332-569F-4D10-8827-3C660B4F915D}&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-1453050877426037890?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/1453050877426037890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-snap.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/1453050877426037890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/1453050877426037890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-snap.html' title='Oh Snap'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbxZu_ACmGI/AAAAAAAAACE/qfPeiMoG2mY/s72-c/42-16016528.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-7072375675474060015</id><published>2009-03-13T11:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T12:17:50.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Head Over Heels</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbqxKGrkLkI/AAAAAAAAAB8/SMweii0wqdg/s1600-h/falling.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 258px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbqxKGrkLkI/AAAAAAAAAB8/SMweii0wqdg/s320/falling.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312753497587068482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So, I had math class together with this guy I really liked. I was staring at him the whole time, and finally we were let out like 2 minutes early. Outside, my friends were walking in front of this boy, and I was walking right behind him. So then I had the brilliant idea of running up to my friends and getting his attention as I went by. I ran right up to him and tripped on my shoelace. I completely wiped out. My skirt flew up, my shoe shot off, and my books went all over the hallway. Then the bell rang. Everyone came out of their classes and started staring at me. Finally someone, laughing hysterically across the hall, held up my shoe and asked if it was mine. I was soo embarrassed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.explodingdog.com/mayfourteen/fallingdown.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-7072375675474060015?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/7072375675474060015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/head-over-heels.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7072375675474060015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7072375675474060015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/head-over-heels.html' title='Head Over Heels'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbqxKGrkLkI/AAAAAAAAAB8/SMweii0wqdg/s72-c/falling.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-782000587781493310</id><published>2009-03-12T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T10:26:10.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eyes on the Prize</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;"So, this happened back when I thought I soo cool. But basically what happened is that I was biking to the library to return some books and there was this cute Latina chick in the distance. So I tried to bike all cool, and I biked up to her and I’m like ‘hey wassup’ -  my eyes were completely focused on her, and I didn't look in front of me. She looks at me and she starts laughing, and I'm like 'wh- ', and then I crashed into a bush and fell on my butt while she walked away laughing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SblFZWO2owI/AAAAAAAAAB0/oOgMXjHJEdE/s1600-h/wv_teacrkmnt_08_burkcrash.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SblFZWO2owI/AAAAAAAAAB0/oOgMXjHJEdE/s320/wv_teacrkmnt_08_burkcrash.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312353537227137794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;http://outdoortravels.com/biking_wv_log_teacreekmtn.html&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-782000587781493310?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/782000587781493310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/eyes-on-prize.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/782000587781493310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/782000587781493310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/eyes-on-prize.html' title='Eyes on the Prize'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SblFZWO2owI/AAAAAAAAAB0/oOgMXjHJEdE/s72-c/wv_teacrkmnt_08_burkcrash.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-5782309890813785447</id><published>2009-03-11T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T10:22:18.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Strikes and You're Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfUJGFlznI/AAAAAAAAAAo/UrOXq5JpLKU/s1600-h/973291197_68764430.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfUJGFlznI/AAAAAAAAAAo/UrOXq5JpLKU/s320/973291197_68764430.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311947538224762482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So we were playing baseball out in one of the parks on a hot day, and suddenly we had the great idea that since nobody was around we should just go shirtless. Then, we had the even better idea to go swimming in a nearby lake in our boxers. Strike 1. But it was still going good up 'til then. So, we left all of our stuff at the baseball diamond and decided to come back and get everything after our swim. We cooled off by the lake doing whatever and it was all fine. We came back and to our horror there was a full little league game going on, and ALL our stuff was in the middle of the diamond. Strike 2. But that wasn't it. We were in our boxers then and completely freezing so we decided to hide out under the bleachers until the game was over. Finally it ended and we sprinted out into the middle of the diamond and grabbed our clothes and ran as fast as possible out of there hoping to God that no one saw us. Later we found out, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everyone&lt;/span&gt; had witnessed our embarrassing display. Strike 3." - anonymous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.kerlanjobe.com/index.php~practiceId=1052&amp;amp;categoryId=186&amp;amp;dir=categories&amp;amp;lib=Sport.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-5782309890813785447?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/5782309890813785447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/three-strikes-and-youre-out.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/5782309890813785447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/5782309890813785447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/three-strikes-and-youre-out.html' title='Three Strikes and You&apos;re Out'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfUJGFlznI/AAAAAAAAAAo/UrOXq5JpLKU/s72-c/973291197_68764430.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-7781644952878840582</id><published>2009-03-10T09:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T14:18:44.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOO!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbbY_iVIiFI/AAAAAAAAAAg/OZ9zMyWlK_g/s1600-h/42-17017247.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbbY_iVIiFI/AAAAAAAAAAg/OZ9zMyWlK_g/s320/42-17017247.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311671396588882002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"So once my friend played a practical joke on me and I wanted to get back at her. So, I was hiding behind a corner in one of these long corridors at Blackford to scare my friend. It was the weekend, so we were the only ones on campus. I peeked around the corner and saw her a little ways away. A few minutes later, I saw the reflection of someone in a window and of course I immediately assumed it was her. As soon as they came within jumping distance, I burst out of my corner and yelled ‘BOO!!’ at the top of my lungs and leaped on them. Suddenly I realized that it wasn’t my friend but a POLICE officer. Completely embarrassed I sprung off him, and the shocked officer stood stunned and then backed away warily as I realized that my friend was 10 feet down the hall laughing at me hysterically."                        - anonymous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://pro.corbis.com/search/Enlargement.aspx?CID=isg&amp;amp;mediauid={6407C328-DB88-4659-97AA-A5F374289FD6}&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-7781644952878840582?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/7781644952878840582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/boo.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7781644952878840582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7781644952878840582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/boo.html' title='BOO!'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbbY_iVIiFI/AAAAAAAAAAg/OZ9zMyWlK_g/s72-c/42-17017247.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-594069197004054229.post-7015367689191032208</id><published>2009-03-09T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T12:51:27.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Start Us Off...</title><content type='html'>Everyone has embarrassing moments; some may be small slip-ups while other may be major mistakes. But, rather than keeping these stories to themselves, I've convinced people to share their stories. These confidants (who will remain anonymous) have told me all about their embarrassing incidents, and I've chosen the best  to put up on this site for all to read! If you can bear to share your own humiliating story, go ahead and email me at talker4ever@gmail.com or tell me in person. I'll post a new one everyday, so enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbbV2FI_O4I/AAAAAAAAAAY/jFkJNKBoYH0/s1600-h/tn_MN-121.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 227px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbbV2FI_O4I/AAAAAAAAAAY/jFkJNKBoYH0/s320/tn_MN-121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311667935599606658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To start us off, I'll tell one of my own stories: A while ago, I was at the mall with two guy-friends. After an hour of pointless shopping, we passed by Victoria Secret. Obviously, being guys, my friends wanted to take advantage of my presence and use me as an excuse to go into the store and look at lingerie. I'm a good sport, so I decided to go along with it and we all walked in. If you have ever been in Victoria Secret, you know that the store is full of truncated mannequins. In one part of there store, there was this plastic butt displaying the seasons newest panty. I jokingly gestured towards this mannaquin when all of sudden I tripped and lost my balance and hit the butt square on its booty. It went flying right off the shelf and landed with a crash right in the middle of the store. EVERYONE turned around to look. My two friends sprinted out of the door at top speed - leaving me with a plastic butt and, I swear, a hundred gawking customers. In complete humiliation, I had to pick up the butt from the middle of the floor and carefully replace it on the shelf before running out of the store myself. Those guyfriends have never let me forget the total embarrassment of that day, and I've never felt comfortable enough to go shopping at that specific store since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.displayimporter.com/images/product/thumb/tn_MN-121.JPG&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/594069197004054229-7015367689191032208?l=dqtruelife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/feeds/7015367689191032208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-start-us-off.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7015367689191032208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/594069197004054229/posts/default/7015367689191032208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dqtruelife.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-start-us-off.html' title='To Start Us Off...'/><author><name>DQ</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10564369929344809146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbfcBdxfNAI/AAAAAAAAABU/BZIbXizCXFM/S220/195a.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T0NqmPvKHN8/SbbV2FI_O4I/AAAAAAAAAAY/jFkJNKBoYH0/s72-c/tn_MN-121.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
