HUNGRY, ANYONE???

Did I mention I can cook? I mean not just hamburger cook, I mean truly get down, fancy cook. Not that there is anything wrong with burgers. I am just saying, I can get way more fancy than that. For example last night, being Sunday night, the night I really make something special, I made:

Chicken & Shrimp Fettucine Alfredo with Garlic and Bay Leaves
Cheddar & Mozzarella Biscuits
And a romaine & tomato salad

If the fam doesn’t appreciate me for anything else, I know they LOVE my cooking. And I LOVE cooking for them.
In the future, I will include pix of my fabulous dishes. Maybe the recipe too.

SideNote--I love Rachel Ray and although it takes a little more than 30 minutes, she can throw down.

Unspeakable Acts

http://www.glamour.com/news/feature/articles/2006/07/31/globaldiary06sep?printable=true&currentPage=all
Global diary...Cambodia
The sex slave tragedy In Cambodia, girls as young as five years old are sold into prostitution every day. New columnist Mariane Pearl meets the woman who's bringing them hope...and freedom.
By Mariane Pearl
It’s noon and the sun is glinting off the tin roofs of a rundown neighborhood in Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital city. I am standing outside a barrack built of sticks that seems on the verge of collapse, when a door opens to reveal an unlikely young woman. Haggard from a drunken sleep, she is still wearing bright-red lipstick from the night before and carries an odor of sweat, sperm and filth. Her expression is beyond hatred or submission.
This is my first glimpse into the world of sexual slavery in Cambodia.
I peer into her room, a windowless chamber barely big enough to fit a mattress. The dirt floor is covered with cigarette butts, used condoms and Freedent gum wrappers. There is no furniture aside from her bed—not even a little box where a girl might hide her treasures. Like many of us, I thought I had an image of what prostitution is. But I knew nothing.
I’ve traveled to Phnom Penh to meet Somaly Mam, who has made it her personal mission to help girls like this. Somaly is on the front line of one of the most important societal battles in Asia and perhaps the world. A former sex worker herself—she was sold into prostitution as a child—she’s the cofounder of an aid organization that rescues young women from brothels and then trains them for jobs like weaving and hairdressing. Her group, Acting for Women in Distressing Situations, also known as AFESIP (its acronym in French), has 155 social workers in Cambodia and the neighboring countries of Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. Somaly says the organization has saved 3,000 girls since its founding in 1996.
My visit with Somaly is the first stop in a yearlong journey around the world for Glamour. In this new monthly column, I plan to explore a question that a child could easily ask and an adult could hardly answer: Who changes the world, and how? Senator Robert F. Kennedy once said, “It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped.” I hope to meet women who, by challenging their own fate, are shaping our world and helping to write the history of our generation.
On the day in May that I land in Cambodia, Somaly is in the midst of a personal crisis so serious that it is hard to fathom. Her 14-year-old daughter, Ning, has been missing for almost 24 hours. Somaly fears the worst: that Ning has been kidnapped—perhaps by a young man the family knows—and is at risk of being sold to a brothel.
It sounds simply unimaginable. But as Somaly understands so well from her own line of work, tragedies like this are not uncommon here. Girls are regularly abducted, sometimes right off the streets. Such brutality is fallout from decades of war, totalitarianism and genocide. Still deeply bruised from the dictatorship of Pol Pot in the seventies, Cambodia today ranks as one of Southeast Asia’s poorest nations, where a human life isn’t worth much. Children here are bought and sold into sexual slavery, sometimes by their own parents, for tiny sums of money.
As a result, Cambodia has earned a reputation as one of the worst places in the world for human trafficking. The problem is so severe that Cambodia’s government established a special office, the Anti-Human Trafficking and Juvenile Protection Department, devoted to the issue. Sereywath Ek, Cambodian ambassador to the United States, says, “We’ve made advances,” but still the sex trade thrives, fueled by both local men and foreign sex tourists.
The moment Somaly tells me of the unfolding tragedy with her daughter, I understand her fears as if they were my own. Four and a half years ago, my husband, Danny, a journalist, was kidnapped and ultimately killed by Islamist militants in Pakistan. It gives us a strange but undeniable bond that the two of us feel instinctively, and we embrace.
Somaly tells me she is going to meet with the police about the search for her daughter, so I set out to learn more about the sordid world in which she works. It turns out to be surprisingly easy. Far from being hidden, Phnom Penh’s brothels operate in the open, some right in the heart of the city, even though prostitution is officially illegal. I travel to one of the sex districts with a team of Somaly’s social workers, who are allowed into the brothels by the owners because they bring supplies like condoms, soap and toothpaste.
Thus my encounter with the haggard young woman—I learn that her name is Apov and that she’s 22—and her sad little room. As I step outside the brothel, I see a girl with a bandage on her head, stained with iodine. A social worker, Chantha Chhim, asks what happened. The girl points to a metal stool and answers in Khmer, the national language. “A man hit me for talking badly to him,” Chantha translates. The girl also has rows of parallel scars on the inside of her arm. “Amphetamine,” says Chantha. When girls get high, she explains, they sometimes engage in self-mutilation.
A female pimp reclines nearby in a purple hammock, watching us nonchalantly. As we leave, the girls give us faint, almost apologetic smiles. They service about 15 clients a night, mostly migrant laborers. Men pay the equivalent of a dollar for sex, but most of that money goes into the pimp’s pocket. The girls themselves get a salary of about $15 a month, which amounts to mere pennies for each sex act.
The next day, Somaly tells me she has heard no news of Ning, but, she says, the police have made finding her a priority. Somaly’s attitude is one of fierce determination, despite the circumstances. “We have work to do,” she says. “I need you to see how we are helping girls.” So we drive outside the city to an AFESIP center that houses 30 former prostitutes. The eldest is 16, Somaly says, and the youngest, five.
In the car on the way there, Somaly refuses to panic about Ning. Instead we joke around, as if in defiance to despair. “I don’t dislike men,” Somaly tells me. “I just can’t stand most of them.”
Her driver smiles. Somaly notices and quickly adds, “He’s different,” and refers to him as her brother in suffering. Last month, he lost five family members, all in separate car accidents. Suddenly I notice the chaotic traffic swirling around us. A family of five passes us, all riding on a single motorcycle. Bicycle rickshaws weave among buffalo-drawn carts. There is a complete absence of order or logic.
Somaly continues joking. “I fired my last driver because he smelled like garlic,” she says. But then her tone changes. “I need a mother,” she announces abruptly.
Somaly means that literally. She is in her late thirties, but doesn’t know her precise age because she has no information about when or where she was born. Nor does she know her mother. Her earliest memories are of working as a domestic servant for various families in Phnom Penh. Eventually, one of those families sold her to a brothel.
The defining moment in her life came, she says, when she saw a pimp kill one of her best friends in the brothel. Somaly says she looked the girl in the eye as she died, and realized not only that she needed to escape this life, but also to return and save others. She then left prostitution with the help of an aid worker, attended school and eventually married a French citizen, Pierre Legros, with whom she had three children. Together they founded AFESIP, although they are now in the midst of divorcing. “He is a good-hearted man,” Somaly says simply, and then sighs with frustration.
When we arrive at the center, Somaly introduces me to Pouv, a 15-year-old former prostitute who is in charge of the cooking. As we approach, Pouv is sitting on the floor skillfully chopping vegetables. Somaly puts a hand on her shoulder, and for a while the only sound is that of a knife on the wooden cutting board. Pouv begins to tell her story, in a low, broken voice. Somaly translates: “She says she was sold by her mother when she was seven. She gripped her mother’s ankles and begged her not to leave her with strangers.” The price for Pouv: the equivalent of $10.
Somaly continues the tale. First Pouv was “fattened up and given treatments to whiten her skin,” a common beauty practice in Asia. Then she was sold to a man who chained her to a bed and raped her until she fainted. Angry, he returned her to the brothel, where she was punished by being held in a chicken cage; the pimps put chili peppers in her vagina and beat her. “She finally broke,” Somaly says. “For the next three years, she had up to 30 clients a day.”
Somaly says her workers rescued Pouv when she was 10. (The workers, as they make their rounds, keep a constant eye out for very young prostitutes like Pouv. Later they may return, and, in collaboration with the police, rush into a brothel and snatch the girls.) Pouv stares at her feet. I can’t help but think about my own young son and the way he trusts me with his entire life. At the very core of Pouv’s existence is what feels like the most fundamental form of betrayal—being sold by the woman who brought you life.
Next I meet six-year-old Mou, who has a fever. Somaly tells me that Mou was sold by her family to a man who used her as a sex slave. After consulting a psychic, he decided that she brought bad luck, so he kept her in a cage.
We also meet a new arrival, a girl of about 12. Never before have I seen anyone who has so clearly just been tortured. Her eyes are wide with terror. Somaly asks, “How are you holding up?” The girl tries to answer, but what comes out is something like a distant whistle, or a creaking door.
As we prepare to leave, kids come pouring out of a nearby school. A dozen girls in navy skirts and white blouses gather around Somaly like butterflies. They, too, are rescuees, who are learning to read and write. A few of them press into Somaly’s hand folded pieces of paper. “Those are their most hidden secrets,” Somaly says. The notes tell of wounds that have been buried so deep, they are not suited for spoken words. Somaly understands their pain. “Part of me hasn’t healed and never will,” she confides. But I can see how the girls give her hope. There is no telling how many girls she will inspire—and how many of them will rescue their sisters and ultimately change the fate of the next generation.
On the drive back to the city, Somaly gets a call from the police. They’ve tracked Ning to Battambang, a province not far from the border of Thailand that Somaly says is a notorious human trafficking center. This is actually good news because many girls disappear into this world without a trace. Somaly says she must go there immediately. “Keep visiting the girls,” she urges me. “Please.”
That night I head out with the social workers to learn about another harsh reality of Cambodia’s sex trade—HIV. An estimated 29 percent of sex workers here have the disease. We drive to one of the city’s sex spots known as the “White Building” because it is dominated by a squalid white apartment house where prostitutes gather. When we arrive, we see girls who can’t be older than 14 seated out front on colorful plastic chairs, waiting for clients.
The street is lively in unexpected ways. There are stalls selling mangos and kebabs, and naked infants are playing. Yet the atmosphere feels dangerous. Men on motorcycles circle the street—it’s unclear if they are pimps or prospective clients, but either way they’re a discomforting presence. Adding to the bizarre tableau, a skinny man approaches a girl in a pleated skirt, and a mysterious exchange occurs: He slaps her, and she gives him a single bill.
In a nearby building, Chantha, the social worker, is teaching HIV prevention. She has forgotten to bring her wooden penis model, so she uses a pencil instead. The condom hangs ridiculously on the tiny pretend phallus, but no one laughs. Too many of the girls have lost friends to HIV.
The following day, a social worker calls me to say that Somaly has been reunited with her daughter. The police found Ning, who had apparently been drugged, in a bar in Battambang. She said she had been raped by her three captors—the young man who the family knows, along with two others.
When I see mother and daughter again, both are deeply shaken. “I think they kidnapped Ning in retaliation for my work,” Somaly tells me. I see that this is another defining moment in her life. She is deeply hurt. But pausing in her work is not an option. She must keep going—for the sake of all the girls she is helping. For the sake of her daughter. She tells me how earlier, she took Ning’s beautiful, sad face in both of her hands. “You’ve suffered what you’ve suffered,” she told her. “Now you take that pain and you help others.”
When I leave that evening, Somaly smiles at me. Her smile serves as a quiet triumph over despair and human cruelty. I think back to something she told me at the beginning of my visit. “I am not sure what being happy really means,” she said. “But when I cuddle with the girls, giving them the love I never received, then I do feel happy.”
Mariane Pearl is a documentary filmmaker and the author of A Mighty Heart: The Brave Life and Death of My Husband, Danny Pearl. To see a video of her trip, go to glamour.com/news. To donate to Somaly’s cause, go to afesip.org.

I was at the nail shop this weekend and the news was on about the sex slave industry in SouthEast Asia. The woman who was doing my nails is from Vietnam and she was telling me that not only are the girls kidnapped but often times the family sells the girls because they are starving. I cant even imagine. I will say that the participants in the victimization of these women and children should be severly punished for these women and children will never be the same. They will forever be scarred and damaged. Thankfully, President Bush signed the Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act into law. While this wont end the victimization of women and children, it will certainly be a big help.

Man Application

THE NEW WAY TO APPROVE A MAN
( Man Application)

Name:(Last, First, Middle)

Address:
City:
State:
Zip:

Telephone:
Home #

Work#

Cell#


Date of Birth:

Age:

SS#:


Weight:

Height:



Ethnicity: (check)
Black
Hispanic
White
Other


Do you live with any of the following: (circle)

Grandmother
Parents
Mother
Father
Girlfriend
Baby Mama
Alone
Shelter
Wife
Auntie
Other


Any Children (circle yes or no)
Yes
No
If yes, how many


How many Baby Mamas?

If more than one, please name below. Use separate sheet of paper if need more room.

1.

2.

3.

Ever been married (circle )
Yes
No
If yes, how many times?


Are you or have you ever been on the Down Low? (circle one)
Yes
No
(If you answer is "Yes" STOP RIGHT HERE!!)

Do you owe child support?
Yes
No
Don't Know


*If your ex-wife is getting state benefits (childcare, food stamps, etc), then you owe somebody something. Especially tax payers. Stop here and go take care of your kids.



Education:

Did you graduate from high school? (circle )
Yes
No
Name of high school (if yes)


Have you received any of the following? (Circle One)
GED
Diploma
Nothing

*If you did not complete any of the above, please Stop here and return to school.

Any college? (circle one)
Yes
No

Still Enrolled:
Yes
No
Graduated

Have you ever been to jail? (circle one)
Yes
No
If yes, what for? (be very specific)



Have you ever been to prison? (circle one)
Yes
No

*If you have answered yes to the above question, please Stop here and call your P.O. immediately.

Employed? (circle)
Yes
No
*If no, please Stop here.

If yes, where and how long?

Do you have health insurance?
Yes
No

When did you last visit the dentist?

When was the last time you have been to the doctor? _
Yes
No
What for?

List any (all) illnesses. Use separate sheet of paper if needed.
Do you have or have you had any of the following? (please circle all that may apply)
Hepatitis
A or B or C
Herpes
Mononucleosis
HIV/AIDS
The Bird Flu
West Nile Virus
Crabs
Chlamydia
Gonorrhea
SARS
Head Lice
Ringworms
Boils
Sex Change
Shingles
Meningitis
Measles
Mumps
Ebola
Bunions
Virus
A Cold
Something that you can't spell

*If you have circled any of these, Stop here and do NOT turn in your application. See the doctor immediately!

Do you or have you ever used (ingested in any way) any of the following: (circle all that apply)
Crack/Cocaine
Heroin
Paint Markers
Ecstasy
Glue
Bad pills
Snuff
Anything under the kitchen sink

*If you have used any of these, then Stop here!

*Please use a separate sheet of paper to compile a list of goals and accomplishments.

By signing below, you agree that all of the information given above is true to the best of your knowledge.

For my protection, you may be asked to provide the following information upon request: state ID, birth certificate, recent payroll stub, a recent clean bill of health from a certified physician and/or practitioner.

Falsifying information will result in termination of this application, and all current and future relationship opportunites with me are out of the question.




Applicants Signature
Date:
Print Name :


Has it come to this ladies? I believe so. If it is at all possible to weed out the druggies, the diseased, the unemployed, the multiple baby daddy or any other undesirable qualities before getting together, then this is a great idea. Far too often we WASTE too much time getting to know someoone only to decide that they are not even worth knowing.

As a matter of fact, this application isnt thorough enough for me. I would add the following questions:

Do you use the words please, excuse me, and thank you often? If no, you better start now.

Do you vote? If no, must be registered in time for next election in order to be considered.
If yes:
Did you vote for Bush? If yes, stop here!!! If you voted for him twice, turn in your voter registration card and seek help immediately.

Do you suffer from erectile dysfunction? If yes, are you taking Viagra? If no, start doing so immediately.

Do you have good credit? If no, stop and go get yourself together.

Do you shower at least once a day?
Do you shower after having a bowel movement?
If no, do you use wet wipes? If no, stop here and re-examine your hygiene habits.

Question #1
Are you generous or financially conservative?
If you answered financially conservative then STOP here and do NOT proceed with the application. This is not negotiable and you need not apply.

Foot In Mouth Disease Or Is It?

Ragin' Mayor Ray Nagin of New Orleans defended accusations that he's taking too long to clean up the Big Easy a year after Hurricane Katrina - by taking a cheap shot at New York's recovery from 9/11.
During a tour of the decimated Ninth Ward in New Orleans, the outspoken, blunt and sometimes profane Nagin invoked Ground Zero when a TV reporter pointed out a street that still has flood-damaged cars and a house washed partially into it.
"That's all right," Nagin told the correspondent in an interview that will air Sunday night on "60 Minutes."
"You guys in New York can't get a hole in the ground fixed and it's five years later. So let's be fair."

Ray Nagin has allegedly angered many over his hole in the ground comments. While I dont think his comments were tactful. I don't think its the big deal its about to become. The point here is however long it is taking to rebuild the WTC site, it should definitely NOT take as long in New Orleans. I know New Orleans is a larger task, but people need to get back to their homes. Ray Nagin should be using the WTC site as an example of how NOT to handle the tragedy in New Orleans. Furthermore, comparisons are not going to get the job done. And neither is focusing on his comments.

Reggae Dance Lessons

http://tallytourist.blogspot.com/2006/07/just-press-play-trust-me.html
Watch and Learn Ladies. This is how you dutty whine.

COFFEE IS SUPPOSED TO BE HOT!

$301G flap-accino
Starbucks owes big bucks in java scalding lawsuit
BY BARBARA ROSS and LEO STANDORADAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS
A BAD EXPERIENCE at Starbucks turned into big bucks - 301,000 of them - for a Manhattan lawyer who got a painful hotfoot when a steaming cup of coffee toppled onto her at the java palace.
"I jumped back and looked down," Alice Griffin, 42, testified. "My foot was steaming, and the puddle was steaming."
The jury's April verdict was upheld yesterday by Supreme Court Justice Emily Jane Goodman - even though the jurist said she was "inclined to agree" the $301,000 that Griffin won at trial "was excessive."
But in upholding the jury finding, Goodman rejected Starbucks' contention the evidence failed to support the verdict.
"Defendant's instant argument that this could have happened some other way at some other place is simply idle speculation by the losing party," she said.
Griffin of the East Village got hurt when she stopped at the Starbucks on Seventh Ave. and 49th St. on her way to work Feb. 10, 2004, and ordered a large decaf.
She testified the clerk slid the sleeveless cup toward her, but it tipped off the edge, losing its top and fell on her foot - leaving her in agony.
Griffin testified the sneakers, socks and stockings she was wearing trapped the hot coffee on her skin.
She said the clerk said nothing - and simply gave her another cup of coffee.
Griffin's lawyer, Barney Anderson, said the clerk violated Starbucks' rules that require coffee cups to have sleeves and securely fastened lids, and that they never be handed to customers or slid on counters.
"It was kind of a perfect storm," that caused the decaf dump on Griffin, he said.
Griffin told the court the coffee caused second-degree burns and permanent nerve damage to the top of her foot.
She said she still suffers pain when she puts her foot in anything too hot or cold and can only wear certain kinds of shoes.
Starbucks said in a statement while it "regrets" any injury to Griffin, "we do not believe we are responsible for her injury and we intend to appeal the jury verdict if the parties are unable to resolve their differences through post trial proceedings."
Griffin's case recalls the classic hot coffee lawsuit filed by Stella Liebeck, a 79-year-old New Mexico woman who went to court after a cup of McDonald's java dropped in her lap.
In what was widely branded a frivolous lawsuit, Liebeck won a $2.9 million damage award that later was reduced to $640,000.
As a result of the Liebeck case, McDonald's began warning customers about high temperatures of its coffee, which was being served at 180 to 190 degrees.
Experts say coffee is best consumed at 140 to 160 degrees.
With Oren Yaniv

I think people just walk around life waiting for an opportunity to sue. Coffee is supposed to be hot. I don’t think she should of received a monetary award for coffee spilling on her, even if she was burned. I look at it this way--If I go into a restaurant and order food. Then upon eating I burn my tongue. Do I have the right to sue? No. For any and every reason people sue. And its not right. It’s a try to get rich quick scheme.

Take for instance those people that sued McDonalds because they got fat.
According to their complaint, the teens suffered injury because their consumption of McDonald’s food "significantly and substantially increased the development of … obesity, diabetes, coronary heart disease, high blood pressure, elevated cholesterol intake, and/or other detrimental and adverse health effects and/or diseases." The complaint also claims that the teens ate at McDonald’s often because the company promoted the quality of its food. In other words, according to the teenaged plaintiffs, the McLawsuit hinges on whether McDonald’s caused their excessive weight and poor health by inducing them to eat fast food through allegedly misleading advertising. Thus, if McDonald’s is legally to blame, logically it must be because the teenaged plaintiffs relied on those commercial messages to their detriment.

Are they serious? Who eats fast food on a daily? And who doesn’t know that its not the healthiest for you? McDonalds shouldn’t be responsible for providing daily food or if people choose to eat the food 3x a day, 7 days a week. The teens should be suing there parents. The parents are the ones to blame and should be held accountable for their children's weight issues.
Just another example of somebody trying to make a quick buck.

Yo Soy Boricua Pa' Que Tu Lo Sepa!

I am not what you call your "typical" looking puerto rican. When I use the word typical, my quote fingers are up because I dont believe there is a typical type. I have been called everything under the sun except what I am. Dominicana, Cubana, Hondurena, Morena, etc... I am tall, dark-skinned, and have pelo alisado. When I say I am puerto rican most people gasp in surprise. Hold up wait a minute. It's not that serious. Especially if you have been to my hometown: Carolina. Or anywhere on the northeastern part of the island for that matter. Dark-skinned puertoricans exist. I am not mad at other cultures for not realizing this, but for someone who claims to be puertorican, this is unacceptable. They have probably never been to Puerto Rico, and they probably don't speak spanish either. And more than likely, they dont read either.
Growing up I was shunned by the light puertoricans because I was too dark. I was shunned by the african americans because my accent was to thick. I did not know where to fit in. It was really hard growing up in America.
Ignorance is a choice. Educate yourself. Pick up a book and read. Surf the internet. Find out the history. Learn not to accept just what is on tv or what other people say. Visit Puerto Rico the land that I love. You cant say your from there and not know anything about it. http://welcome.topuertorico.org/index.shtml
Yo Soy Boricua Pa' Que Tu Lo Sepa!

STICKS & STONES

Sticks & Stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me!

That is such crap! Who was the first person to tell this lie? You can heal from a broken bone, but words are something that can run through your mind for a lifetime. You should be careful what you say to someone else, especially if you claim to love them. Anger, drunkedness, hopelessness and/or despair is never an excuse to verbally assault the one you love. Why say something today that you will have to apologize for tomorrow. Say what you mean and mean what you say so that there are no misunderstandings. --Noelle

"...it is appointed unto men once to die..."

I found out today that a friend of mine, Charles Vo, was killed this past Saturday in Virginia while his family watched. He wasn't a best friend, childhood friend or long time friend. Nonetheless, he was a good friend and I will miss him. I met him while working in DC. I knew him for about three years and over that time I appreciated seeing and talking to him. He talked of retiring soon and going to his native home. I am deeply saddened by his death. And my prayers go out to his family.

He is not the first person that I was close to who died and I am sure that he is not the last. I thought about the same thing I always think about when someone I know passes away into the next life. Of course I prayed for GOD to care for his spirit and to comfort his family. What always comes to mind immediately after I pray is "did he get to say I love you one last time".

Tomorrow is promised to no one, as we all should know. Why do we wait until someone dies to say nice things about them? Or regret not having an opportunity to apologize? Death should be a celebration of how one lived and the impact they had on our lives and this world, not a time for regret. Tell your friends and loved ones that you love them, are proud of them, are glad that they are in your lives, OFTEN, for tomorrow is promised to no one. I know the pain of regret, not being able to say I love you one last time. Going to bed angry and waking up the next day to never see that person alive again, to talk with them or give them a hug/kiss. That is a pain you live with forever. If you haven't experienced these feelings, you probably know someone who has and I pray that you never have to experience them yourselves. I am also sure that you have heard these words before, in some form or another. I tell them to you again, we learn by repitition and our experiences. So I share my experience and repeat these words in the hope that it will sink into your gray matter and stick, so that we all make the appropriate changes to our lives and not relive the history of so many others.

Today I continue on my journey to living a life minus the regret and full of joy and peace. I will start and I hope you follow: I AM SORRY, I FORGIVE YOU, I AM PROUD OF YOU AND YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS, I AM PRIVILEGED TO HAVE YOU AS A FRIEND, I AM BLESSED TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE, YOU ARE SPECIAL TO ME, I LOVE YOU NOW AND FOREVERMORE.

I ask you to pray for Charles Vo and his family(please pray for them especially, they need your prayers during their tribulation). Pray for your family and yourselves. I pray that the Almighty GOD will bless and keep you and yours, now and forevermore.

Sandal NO-NO!!!

Mine are the fabulous toes, making their first blog appearance!! --Noelle

The picture on the top is how its supposed to be done.

The picture on the bottom is a huge-massive NO-NO, actually its worse than that--it's a HELL FUC&%ing NO!!!!! Who seriously walks out the house like this? And WHY? C'mon for years there has been some email circulating about how you should fix your toes before the summer gets here. All the do's and dont's about your exposed feet. Apparently, the wrong people have been getting this email because there are tons and tons of women who for some reason or other feel its okay to come out the house with jacked up toes. And I am not talking about things that can't be helped, but I am talking about things that can be helped--like for starters--LOTION. Lotion is your friend--people!!!!!!!! You can help raggedy nails on your toes, use a file, chipped toe-nails (if you dont have the time, use clear nail polish), etc, etc. You get the picture.
Why should we have to be subjected to this. Its upsetting and absolutely nauseating to see.
Fu&%ed up toes ruin a good sandal. Truth be told, it ruins a womens look. And you have to wonder, if she is not taking care of her toes, what else is she neglecting on her body. If women are going to come out of the house with unpainted toes, half-painted toes, unfiled toes, ashy feet, etc. then they should have the common decency to put them bad boys in sneakers. Stop unnecesarily torturing me. --Noelle

I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS!!!!

I am almost never home before my "boyfriend". Almost never. Today I am off from work so I decide to greet him happily at the door with a big hug and a kiss (suggestions by every freaking female magazine) (almost thought about coming to the door in lingerie, good thing i didnt), only to find his "boy" trailing right behind him. Damn!!!! That killed my mood. I wanted to push him and the friend right back down the stairs. Even better I should of stayed my a$$ on the couch and not tried to make such an event of his coming home. Can I get some conversation exchanges before he spends time with his friends. Can I ask about his day and he mine? Of course NOT! Cuz the friend, who has no girlfriend sees nothing wrong with being in our house almost everyday. Do I blame my stupid a$$ "boyfriend", who sees nothing wrong with his friends daily visits? Or do I blame the friend, who has no qualms about coming over at the WRONG time---all the time???? They should of moved in together. They make a better couple. Sigh. I didn't sign up for this.--Noelle