<?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-19869912</id><updated>2011-07-07T15:41:20.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>:)</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>678</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7411108022709197382</id><published>2010-09-22T16:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T16:33:32.989-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I remembered my password!</title><content type='html'>Not that I actually forgot it.&amp;nbsp; It's just that it jerks me around so much I lose interest when logging in.&amp;nbsp; Why can't things be simple?&amp;nbsp; Lots of noise, chaos and homeschool right now.&amp;nbsp; I know I'm having dreams, but if I don't log them when I get up I forget.&amp;nbsp; I'm old.&amp;nbsp; It happens.&amp;nbsp; My son is lucky if I remember to feed him ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a coffee.&amp;nbsp; I like that McDonald's mocha frappe, but it has so much sugar in it.&amp;nbsp; But I want one.&amp;nbsp; I might go get one.&amp;nbsp; But if I delay until soccer, then I won't because the boy and the man give me the 'do you really need that?' look.. then I feel guilty.&amp;nbsp; Because they know in an hour I'll be bitchy that I had one and they have to live with it.&amp;nbsp; It's a horrible circle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll just drink another tea and be over it.&lt;br /&gt;And that's all I've got for now :)&amp;nbsp; Hi blog!!&amp;nbsp; &amp;lt;&lt;waves&gt;&amp;gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7411108022709197382?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7411108022709197382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7411108022709197382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-remembered-my-password.html' title='I remembered my password!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7617742926046055091</id><published>2010-05-27T12:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T12:33:31.263-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More mental chaos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/S_6s2IBy6CI/AAAAAAAABeU/AHvTKQdGT_k/s1600/052610_dream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/S_6s2IBy6CI/AAAAAAAABeU/AHvTKQdGT_k/s320/052610_dream.jpg" width="234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So lastnights dream again involved an elevator.&amp;nbsp; Again.&amp;nbsp; I had a lot of dreams, but this is the only one I remember.. since I woke up screaming!&amp;nbsp; I was at a large building, many floors, over 100.&amp;nbsp; I stepped into the elevator.. and in doing this my brain always tells me there is no way it's going to end well... but I never listen :)&amp;nbsp; I remember looking around thinking it was a huuuuge elevator.&amp;nbsp; There was actually a small room in the center of the square elevator.&amp;nbsp; It was very wide in all directions.&amp;nbsp; I could see the concrete walls of the actual shaft, there were no elevator walls.&amp;nbsp; It didn't sink in that this was an issue, until it started moving.&amp;nbsp; The small room in the center vanished... basically what happened is that the walls of that small room were attached to the base of the elevator shaft.&amp;nbsp; As the elevator started rising, and the walls of that small room vanished.. there was a HUGE hole in the center of the floor on this elevator.&amp;nbsp; So there was a small platform to stand on, one false move and you're going to either die by elevator shaft wall... or fall through the huge hole in the center.&amp;nbsp; We were going up so fast, I dropped to the floor and tried clinging to it for dear life.&amp;nbsp; Just as I screamed... I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fucking dreams.&lt;br /&gt;I blame Taco Bell :)&amp;nbsp; Last time my son gets to choose what we have for dinner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7617742926046055091?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7617742926046055091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7617742926046055091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2010/05/more-mental-chaos.html' title='More mental chaos'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/S_6s2IBy6CI/AAAAAAAABeU/AHvTKQdGT_k/s72-c/052610_dream.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4568703435110502344</id><published>2010-05-24T15:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T15:40:13.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Dream :)</title><content type='html'>So I have a horrible fear of heights.&amp;nbsp; Elevators are always around when I'm having a nightmare.&amp;nbsp; However, my brain is thinking outside of the box these days, such an impressive little thing.&amp;nbsp; I was in Las Vegas, and for some reason I was hosting a New Year's Eve party.&amp;nbsp; Well no, not hosting, covering it.&amp;nbsp; I was a reporter of some kind... seems to me a pre-break/post-break/coming right back sort of announcer.&amp;nbsp; It was a huge party/infomercial for some Harrah's location.&amp;nbsp; The party was poolside, and there were tons of people there.&amp;nbsp; It was late at night.&amp;nbsp; So the camera would pan around the crowd from above, and there was a lot of music.&amp;nbsp; Just as it was time to go to commercial, the camera would cut to some sort of window cleaning basket I was clinging to.&amp;nbsp; They didn't show me, it was just my voice.. and I would start talking about the new casino and all the great features.. and as I did this the window cleaning basket would start zipping up a somewhat shaky wobbly wire to the roof of the building... 89 floors up.&amp;nbsp; I really had to brace myself.&amp;nbsp; It would start from the far side of the pool, and get closer to the building as it flew up.&amp;nbsp; It's not enough that each time I wanted to hurl everywhere.... but after each commercial.. for some odd reason... I was in a less safe position.&amp;nbsp; I started standing, the next time I was sort of leaning to the edge... the next time I was hanging over the edge.. it seems the basket was shrinking.&amp;nbsp; By the time I woke up, I was clinging to this thing for dear life as it zipped up the side of the building to the 89th floor.&amp;nbsp; I don't know, maybe I was just the camera man.&amp;nbsp; So I had to hang on to the camera for this panoramic shot the studio wanted.&amp;nbsp; But I can tell you for a fact, I would have quit the job when they told me what I had to do!!&amp;nbsp; lol&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep it up brain.&amp;nbsp; You are gonna have to work harder than THAT to keep me from a good sleep :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4568703435110502344?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4568703435110502344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4568703435110502344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2010/05/new-dream.html' title='New Dream :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4629209213332946352</id><published>2010-05-07T10:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T10:23:02.309-05:00</updated><title type='text'>eew.. learning?  lol  Dream Log</title><content type='html'>The end of my dream this morning woke me up, I think because I was annoyed that I was learning!&amp;nbsp; haha&amp;nbsp; Someone used the expression, "He looked like he had been Colorado figged"... and I didn't understand.&amp;nbsp; So my brain explained it to me, "Well, seems in Colorado they have these fig trees and people often walk into the large branches.. and become dazed and confused."&amp;nbsp; Funny thing is the voice sounded like the guy from 'Dukes of Hazard'.. the guy that talked over the plot?&amp;nbsp; Haaaaa!&amp;nbsp; Holy shyte, my inner brain is a hillbilly.&amp;nbsp; I always knew it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex and I have been reading a book recently with some expressions he doesn't understand, so I find myself stopping him&amp;nbsp;to explain what the expression means.&amp;nbsp; I think that's why I had this hiccup of a dream.&amp;nbsp; But I Googled it.. there are no Colorado Fig trees ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4629209213332946352?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4629209213332946352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4629209213332946352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2010/05/eew-learning-lol-dream-log.html' title='eew.. learning?  lol  Dream Log'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-952772810549938770</id><published>2010-05-04T09:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T09:15:40.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Log</title><content type='html'>What about Sarah?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: yellow;"&gt;Lastnights&lt;/span&gt; dream was really odd.&amp;nbsp; I was trying to help a friend of mine get her daughter into her apartment.&amp;nbsp; Seems she had lost her key, so we had to pick her up.&amp;nbsp; I was with my my friend, and 2 other people she knew.&amp;nbsp; I received a phone call, my ID read 'Sarah 1'.&amp;nbsp; I don't have anyone in my phone under 'Sarah 1'.. so that was odd.&amp;nbsp; She sounded really frantic and upset, but kind of drugged out and mellow.&amp;nbsp; It was a really odd conversation.&amp;nbsp; She kept going on and on that I was the only one she could talk to, and how sad she was.&amp;nbsp; Then she would get excited and freak out and talk really crazy.. then get all down again.&amp;nbsp; Like she was on drugs.&amp;nbsp; I didn't want to tell her that I didn't know who she was, since she kept going on and on about how I was her best friend and she had nobody else to talk to.&amp;nbsp; I know 2 people named Sarah, she wasn't either of them.&amp;nbsp; Nothing she said made any sense, and I was having a hard time reasoning with her.&amp;nbsp; She didn't want to meet.&amp;nbsp; She kept telling me she left me a 'bag in the flowers'.&amp;nbsp; I was then at the university campus.&amp;nbsp; My friends daughter lived there.&amp;nbsp; I was wandering around, listening to her on the phone.&amp;nbsp; I don't know why, I think I felt she was around there and I was trying to see if I could see her on the phone.&amp;nbsp; I walked by some flowers planted in a large concrete box, and I noticed there was a small paper bag wadded into a ball.&amp;nbsp; I just kept walking.&amp;nbsp; She ended up hanging up, and I stood there confused.&amp;nbsp; Some guy standing right by me, and was watching me.&amp;nbsp; I started to walk off and he stopped me, "Hey, you're supposed to get the bag.&amp;nbsp; It's right there.".. he pointed at the bag in the flowers.&amp;nbsp; I immediately asked him if he knew Sarah.&amp;nbsp; "No, she called me and told me to make sure you found the bag."&amp;nbsp; I had no idea what was going on.&amp;nbsp; He had money she had left him, too, to make sure he would do the job.&amp;nbsp; Then all these different students kept coming up and giving me hints on how to find Sarah, or to try to help me ask around.&amp;nbsp; I found cash in the bag, and was even more confused and concerned.&amp;nbsp; I figured she was going to kill herself, so she was leaving me money or something.&amp;nbsp; We asked everyone, and I just kept seeing people pass this little wad of cash around.&amp;nbsp; They would each take a little, then say to the next person.. "It's your turn to try to help."...??&amp;nbsp; I was really stressing out at this point because they were all very distracted with the cash, and busy passing it around.. instead of helping me figure out who this lady was.&amp;nbsp; And they all seemed to have knowledge about her, but nobody would tell me who she was... they would just pass me to the next student.&amp;nbsp; We ended up in a large classroom, and there was a lady at the front of the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that I was some sort of student/teacher experiment.&amp;nbsp; She wanted to see if people would be willing to help me find her for money, versus just trying to help.&amp;nbsp; She was so pleased with herself for planning this test of human nature, and that we did actually end up finding her.&amp;nbsp; She had given different students different tips to reach the end.&amp;nbsp; I was so pissed off I woke up.&amp;nbsp; I was so frustrated having to explain to each student that I was trying to find Sarah, and what she sounded like.. and that I thought she was going to kill herself.&amp;nbsp; And they would take me about 10 feet, then pass me to the next person, instead of staying with me to help find her.&amp;nbsp; Ugh.&amp;nbsp; I should have stabbed that lady before I woke up :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-952772810549938770?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/952772810549938770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/952772810549938770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2010/05/dream-log.html' title='Dream Log'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3110934425970505766</id><published>2010-01-03T14:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T09:09:07.792-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever horrified?!</title><content type='html'>Maybe our brains need to be horrified every once in a while.&amp;nbsp; In our daily life, none of us are really ever in fear of dying on a regular basis.&amp;nbsp; Stressed out?&amp;nbsp; Sure.&amp;nbsp; Annoyed?&amp;nbsp; Yeah!&amp;nbsp; Horrified?&amp;nbsp; No.&amp;nbsp; Not most of us.&amp;nbsp; So I'm thinking that's why my brain conjures up these dreams that wake me up in the middle of the night.&amp;nbsp; People are chasing me, my family is in danger.. and there is an elevator shaft.&amp;nbsp; Always with the elevator shaft.&amp;nbsp; I'm either in the elevator, and it's shaking and falling.&amp;nbsp; Or I'm on top of the elevator, and it's whizzing past open floors.. I just can't jump off for fear of being cut in half.&amp;nbsp; Or I'm looking down an open shaft.&amp;nbsp; Cables jiggling and a breeze blowing in my face.&amp;nbsp; It's all horrifying.&amp;nbsp; To me.&amp;nbsp; I hate elevators.&amp;nbsp; And my blood starts pumping and I freak out and wake up.&amp;nbsp; Horrified.&amp;nbsp; Then... of course... relieved.&amp;nbsp; But maybe my brain requires all of these emotions to stay on track, and unless I'm horrified every once in a while.... my brain just isn't happy or complete?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my theory.&amp;nbsp; My life is not horrifying enough, and my brain is just dropping me a little reminder every now an then in my sleep.&amp;nbsp; Sure, you may be stressed out... but your life could actually be like THIS you ingrate.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks brain :)&amp;nbsp; I wish maybe you could just send me an email... but we'll play this game for now.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: yellow;"&gt;xoxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3110934425970505766?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3110934425970505766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3110934425970505766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2010/01/ever-horrified.html' title='Ever horrified?!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5306205669193712594</id><published>2009-11-20T10:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T10:23:15.259-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Log</title><content type='html'>I had the most grotesque dreams lastnight.  Seriously horrid.  I was on vacation at the beginning.  I was travelling with another lady, but not my sisters or anyone I knew.  She was cracking me up because we were going to go and hang out at the pool.  She was all dressed and ready to go, but was cleaning our hotel room.  I mean CLEANING.  She had brought her own spray cleaners and was even scrubbing down all the seats.  I kept teasing her that she was a germ-a-phobe (or whatever you call that) and she kept denying.  So I snuck out and went to the pool.. but didn't make it to the pool.  At the end of the hallway there were a bunch of religious relics and a huge cathedral.  I was looking at all the relics.  Little odd looking statues (about 6-10 inches in size) made from a very ashen material.  They were effigy's of different evil people.  I've been reading with Alex about the mound people and the different things they would bury with the dead, so it must be from that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While going through the boxes, a little boy walked up.  He kind of looked like Alex, but didn't.  I think it was that creepy kid from the scary movie.. I have no idea what it was called.  He had on a black cloak and kept staring at me.  I left, but it was dark outside now.  I don't remember everything from this point, but there was a man that wanted to murder someone.  He did and he became evil.  From the body of the other man, evil demons were coming out of his stomach.  they looked like humans, but when you would look up close their skin would be melting or they had other deformities.  It was just gross, and they were everywhere around the pool.  His girlfriend showed up, and it upset him because he realized now that he was evil there was no way he could be with his girlfriend.  He tried to help her escape, but the evil demons were after her.  She was hiding, but they had this spray which detected virgins (I know, this is nuts I am whack).  They would spray it in the air, and this really high pitched screaming siren noise would sound out where the girl was.  It was really odd.  I just remember all the creepy sounds, and I woke up.  I have no idea if the virgin survived :)  lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my dream log du jour :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5306205669193712594?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5306205669193712594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5306205669193712594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/11/dream-log.html' title='Dream Log'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1701729694014700471</id><published>2009-09-25T00:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T00:34:30.971-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dearest Journal:</title><content type='html'>Wow, it has been a long time since I've rambled to you.  And it's not that I haven't wanted to.  I'm on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; now, but I can't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; vent my hostilities there.. so I'm sorry but you're it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the same old stuff.  On a good note, my brother has entered a 12 month rehabilitation program, and he's doing great.  He's 3 months sober now, and that's amazing for him.  He used to act better than everyone else in those lame expensive rehabs of the past, but he is finally realizing he has a problem.  Losing everything, including his precious &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;camaro&lt;/span&gt;, has been very humbling for him.  I get custody of him on Saturdays for about 4 hours, and it has been great to spend time with him.  I hope he continues on this road :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, not talking to my mother.  See... My sister, married 23 years, found out her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;chauvinist&lt;/span&gt; husband has been seeing $300 per hour escorts for the last few years.  And not just now and then!  We're talking weekly, up to a couple/few times a week.  Addict crazy kind of stuff.  I put a keystroke tracker on his computer and got all of his passwords and emails and such.  He had women in AZ, TX.. and local.  Just crazy.  So he left town for 3 days, and when he came back she was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;gonnnnne&lt;/span&gt;.  It took 3 shifts of movers, but we did it.  But they're talking again.  He's going to therapy.  So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;whatevers&lt;/span&gt;.  To each their own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this time my mother found out from my dad.. who overheard from me... about the affairs.  She get mad at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;MEEEE&lt;/span&gt; because my sister was not confiding in her, or turning to her for comfort.  WHAT?  OK, first it's not MY fault my sister is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;BFF's&lt;/span&gt; with my other sister.  They're like 1 year apart, that's what happens.  But why am I getting the blame?  And SECOND.. and I enlightened her.. why would my sister turn to her for comfort.. when she cheated on my father repeatedly??  I mean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;c'mon&lt;/span&gt;!  So she's mad at me for pointing that little tidbit out.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Meh&lt;/span&gt;.  Whatever.  I've never called her on it, so it was time for me.  I'm old and have no tolerance for anything anymore.  If you're acting like a total dick, I'm going to call you on it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um.  Otherwise, everything else is the same.  The other sister is going on and on about how 'she knows' how the other sister feels.. having been cheated on by 2 of her previous husbands.  The difference is that she's a bitch, the sister that has been married 23 years is not.  So I'm having to keep away from her because I get tired of the man hating rampages she gets into.  Every time she says, "All men are pigs!".. I just want to stab her in the eye.  Hag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Mister and Monkey are doing super great.  Everything within my walls is beautiful and happy ;)  Even my dad is behaving somewhat.  Other than the usual rantings about Obama and whatever else he can conjure up.. it's all good.  Everyone is entitled to their rantings.. maybe he needs a blog :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you're doing great journal.  It's mighty quiet out here these days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;xoxoxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NV&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1701729694014700471?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1701729694014700471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1701729694014700471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/09/dearest-journal.html' title='Dearest Journal:'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2486102945138360910</id><published>2009-07-22T10:43:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T10:59:34.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Blog :)</title><content type='html'>Dear Blog,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I'm a horrible blogger. I'm sure you missed me. I'm cheating on you with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt;. It will probably end.. but I can't guarantee. Or maybe I'll give you both up, you never know. But I do like that I can tell you things without EVERYONE knowing. That's a plus. You can be my little secret ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my sister is going through a horrible time in her marriage. Stuff and things going on. Things she isn't supposed to find out about. And she's.. thinking. I feel bad for her, it's pretty awful. I gave my mom a tiny bit of knowledge, so she would stop trying to pick a fight with her for not calling her. When you're going through a horrible time... my mother is not the kind of mother you want to call to talk about it. But I was wrong in telling her anything, and should have just let her explode about her not calling. Because now I am in trouble for 'keeping secrets' and she went off on me. ?! My mother is insane. So I stopped talking to her last week, told her to 'think about how insane' she is being and hung up. I didn't tell my sister, last thing she needs to hear about is argument #49854 with the insane mother. But did that stop mom? Uh, no. She told my sister today that we're arguing. Bitch. I didn't ask what reason mom gave, I just went onto the next subject. I'm curious to know what mom told her. Surely not that she's being a total c*&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nt&lt;/span&gt; because my sister isn't telling her the WHOLE story about why she and her husband are fighting. I really can't stand that woman. I'm so tired of her &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nicey&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nicey&lt;/span&gt; facade she puts on around us, and then she talks shit behind our backs. Bitter nasty old woman. So, there's that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Monkey has been sick all week, spiking fevers of 102.6. Finally last Friday the doctors gave him an antibiotic.. and he's better. But it sure took them long enough! I hate when he's sick, I feel so bad for him. And I constantly pester him checking his temperature and asking 1001 questions about how he feels. But he's good now, and I finally got to go grocery shopping yesterday. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother entered a 1 year long rehab program.  So that's awesome.  He has been there for 1 month so far.  And he plans on staying the full program.  It's paid for by the state, they have to do volunteer work at the Salvation Army and Harvester's.. and places like that.  I don't think he'll want to continue on as a chef when he gets out.  He's kind of talking about missionary work.  I don't know what criteria they have for that.. but if it works for him I'm happy.  He seems to have gone from one &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;extreme&lt;/span&gt; to another, but if it doesn't involve drinking I'm all for it.  I know they are really nice to him there, and he's taking it so seriously.  Everyone is so much happier knowing he's there and getting the help he needs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else is doing great. It's all I know for now :) I hope you're doing well blog. Could you call my mother and tell her what a crazy bitch she is? I'd really appreciate it. It's really festering right now. I just don't understand how someone can be so mental, it does not compute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2486102945138360910?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2486102945138360910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2486102945138360910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/07/hi-blog.html' title='Hi Blog :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-9023387503353621996</id><published>2009-06-22T18:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T19:02:24.579-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear journal :)</title><content type='html'>I know it has been a while since I've been here.  Have been farting around a bit on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Meh&lt;/span&gt;.  But it's damn hot right now and I fear going outside :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up thingies: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother entered a 1 year long program for addicts.  I have no idea what it's like, but I'm just so happy he is somewhere he will be taken care of.  For the first 2 months he can't visit with anyone, can't leave..nothing.  After that he gets to leave during the day with the services and they work at Harvesters (they handle donated food stuffs), charity houses and such.  He had reached the bottom, even wrecked his car.  He wanted to check himself in, and was very much into it.  So.. I'm actually going to pray on this one.  I don't like to pray a lot, I figure the Big Man is very busy.  I like to save it for the important stuff.. call in my favors when needed :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monkey Boy won another match in tennis today, so that's good.  He's still learning, but trying very hard.  It was so damn hot and it was at an outdoor tennis court.  Our little tennis club is indoors, but those country clubs shove the tennis players outside ;)  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bwahahha&lt;/span&gt;.  Calculate this.. it's 7:00pm right now and the temperature is 95.. heat index 110.  Humidity is 56%.  That's just nuts-o.  Imagine what it was like at 2:00pm when he had to play.. and you will feel his pain :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad thingies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm a social retard :)  Sitting at the tennis match today, I just can't socialize with those women.  Rambling on and on about how busy their social calendar is and how they just feel like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;chauffeur&lt;/span&gt; sometimes.  Snarling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sarcastically&lt;/span&gt; about how once they leave they have to run this kid here and that kid there and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;bla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bla&lt;/span&gt;.  Why have kids if you're going to bitch about it?  Why book them in all these activities if you're going to bitch about it?  Wait, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; you like to bitch about things?  I just like fun people.  I must be a redneck :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, that's about it.  I'm growing many things outside. I need to take some updated photos.  I'm having the worst luck with strawberries.  Little fuckers.  I bought roots, and they were ass.  So I am trying some seeds now.  I also bought seeds for a giant redwood.  I'm giddy!  Some guy 30 minutes north of here has one which is 10' round.  I can do it!  I wanted to start from seed to make it more exciting.  And some other really amazing plants.  Will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;udpate&lt;/span&gt; later as they grow ;)  This page will now become my gardening journal.. as it is my new phase :)  I guess until August.. when everything is so hot I won't be able to go outside and will just let it all die.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;MWahahahaha&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, journal, be well.  One day maybe I'll tell you what a prick my sister's husband is.. and what he's up to.  Not sure it will mix in with my gardening info.. but it will sure make it more.. um.. lurid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;xo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-9023387503353621996?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/9023387503353621996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/9023387503353621996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-journal.html' title='Dear journal :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7063976117386006227</id><published>2009-05-11T19:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T19:42:02.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crappy.</title><content type='html'>I called the police station to see what the results were for my brother's video hearing.  And he was there in the cell waiting for his time.  It was at 6:00, and he was still waiting.  And I felt bad, because she said he was in the cell near her.. confirming he was there.  I can't feel bad, it's his own stupid fault.. but I do.  He's such a shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.  Reason #1 that Alex is an only child :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7063976117386006227?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7063976117386006227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7063976117386006227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/05/crappy.html' title='Crappy.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8244124346376520977</id><published>2009-05-11T10:42:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T11:16:20.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain Download</title><content type='html'>So, diary, the brother is in jail. I know it's a bad thing, but I'm glad.. I just hope he stays. We got the call last Wednesday that he wanted us to come and bail us out. "I left $500.00 in my car, and the bail is $500.00. Come and get me." So I called the police station, because if he had been arrested for an unpaid ticket or something I would have. But the lady explained that, "He crashed into a car and left the scene of the accident. We arrested him at his apartment but could not give him a DWI because he was no longer in the car." Of course. His luck amazes me. Thankfully it was a parked car and nobody was injured. He pleaded not guilty in his video court thingy on Friday, so today he had another video court. Hopefully when I call they will tell me what the results were, so I know if he's out and about or not. I know it's a shit thing to say, but I do hope they keep him. I was so angry when dad took him to get his car out of the impound as it is, we actually got into a fight over it. "He needs a car to work.." is his argument. He's dad, I get it, he wants his son to work it out. It's so sad really how his mood changes when we find out what Adrian is up to. But I know he's going to kill someone in that car one day, and it may not only be himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while he was sober dad was trying to think of things to keep his mind occupied. They decided, with Mother's Day coming up, that Adrian could sell the teacup flower pots I made. lol. So they went to Wal-Mart and bought 20 of them and all the flowers to go in them. Sadly to say, I'm not stuck with 20 flower pots. I tried selling them at our CVS last week out of the Scion, and they chased me off. I'm just going to clean them and do a return at Wal-Mart. My sister is the queen of returns, she's going to help. I hate returning anything, makes me want to cry. Especially 15 or 16 pots. A couple sold, and I gave some away :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did go to my brothers car, to see if the idiot really did leave $500 in there. It was $320.. cash. I took it and gave it to my dad, as he owes him $600 anyway. Better we get it or it's towed while he's in jail. I know, cold hearted. Tack on all the bills for the foo-foo rehabs and multiple cars he has wrecked over the years... that $320 felt good :) After I return the pots he'll actually break even on the flower deal so it's a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the cute Kia Soul the other day at the Dollar Tree. The lady caught me taking a picture. She was very excited, she had just picked it up that day :) Now if she could just get rid of the 2 bratty kids that got into the car with her.. I would have envied her for a moment :) But she blew it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother's Day was very nice. Although it rained. Invited mom and step over for seafood pizza. Dad isn't feeling too good this week, so he had fun harassing them. Although my mother's flirting and reminiscing is starting to get a little nauseating. If she goes back to my dad, I have news for them... HE IS MOVING OUT!!! They can get their OWN little love bungalow. The other day she came over without my step, he was off doing something. She was in dad's room and they're all chatty-chatty for over an hour. Then the step came and said, "Ha! I caught you in your ex-husband's bedroom!".. and they all laughed. Freaks. If I catch them in a threesome... I am moving out!!&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SghO4wZWaQI/AAAAAAAABd8/-P82ZVUjDug/s1600-h/Misc_+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334600495591221506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SghO4wZWaQI/AAAAAAAABd8/-P82ZVUjDug/s320/Misc_+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SghO5KrM7NI/AAAAAAAABeE/yUDoa4TXh7U/s1600-h/Misc_+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334600502645419218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SghO5KrM7NI/AAAAAAAABeE/yUDoa4TXh7U/s320/Misc_+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8244124346376520977?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8244124346376520977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8244124346376520977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/05/brain-download.html' title='Brain Download'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SghO4wZWaQI/AAAAAAAABd8/-P82ZVUjDug/s72-c/Misc_+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8850210913013988960</id><published>2009-04-29T20:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T20:02:52.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And playing with the dogger. He goes insane-o for his new bubble machine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj4obKRXOI/AAAAAAAABds/4khw0EUacCA/s1600-h/042109_+Bandit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330283532362276066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj4obKRXOI/AAAAAAAABds/4khw0EUacCA/s200/042109_+Bandit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj4ogqa7CI/AAAAAAAABd0/Vy6p5MJGs4E/s1600-h/042109_+BubblesBandit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330283533839297570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj4ogqa7CI/AAAAAAAABd0/Vy6p5MJGs4E/s200/042109_+BubblesBandit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8850210913013988960?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8850210913013988960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8850210913013988960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh.html' title='Oh...'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj4obKRXOI/AAAAAAAABds/4khw0EUacCA/s72-c/042109_+Bandit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1597864536547703175</id><published>2009-04-29T19:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T19:56:09.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuff-n-Things</title><content type='html'>I bought the coolest tea cup flower pot at Wally World this week. I bought one for my mother for Mother's Day.. then had to get myself one also. Because I'm a spoiled child.  And a photo of the salmon MrNV missed out on lastnight. Ha Haaaaaaaaa!  My son's odd friend. They found the Hannah Montana shirt.. yeesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2b5bLA_I/AAAAAAAABdU/1Gnse1cak1Y/s1600-h/042809_gardening_+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330281118124671986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2b5bLA_I/AAAAAAAABdU/1Gnse1cak1Y/s200/042809_gardening_+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2b1hzwcI/AAAAAAAABdc/XccnC-0-L6g/s1600-h/042809_gardening_+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330281117078766018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2b1hzwcI/AAAAAAAABdc/XccnC-0-L6g/s200/042809_gardening_+010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2cGZzUOI/AAAAAAAABdk/Spng2HSWvic/s1600-h/042609_HannahDylan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330281121608585442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2cGZzUOI/AAAAAAAABdk/Spng2HSWvic/s200/042609_HannahDylan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1597864536547703175?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1597864536547703175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1597864536547703175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/stuff-n-things.html' title='Stuff-n-Things'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Sfj2b5bLA_I/AAAAAAAABdU/1Gnse1cak1Y/s72-c/042809_gardening_+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1624246964775323697</id><published>2009-04-23T16:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T16:51:59.635-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting screwed by Shutterfly</title><content type='html'>At the end of 2008 I bought a prepaid 10cents per photo card on Shutterfly.  I have about 250 prepaid prints, there are 2 specials I purchased.  Whatever, they hang onto the credit for a couple years.  So I thought it would be cool to print all of the &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/monkeysmumsie/sets/72157617154031344/"&gt;Senior photos&lt;/a&gt; I took for my friend's daughter as a gift.  However, wallet sizes (there were only about 20 of those) were like 18 cents per page (4 per page) so they wanted to charge me for those.  But the prints were 'free'.. since I already had a credit.  And including shipping.. then wanted $89!  That's basically me paying for only wallet photos and shipping.. regular shipping.  WTF?!  So I want to Sam's Club online, uploaded all the stuffs... and ordered a total of 333 photos.  Cuz I can, so shut up.  Included even more wallets... and only paid $47.30.  That INCLUDES priority mail shipping, they wouldn't send the large order to the store I had to order them for delivery.  But is that insane?  Because that total includes all the photos, no credits.  How the hell does that even work?!  I can't even imagine what the total would have been had there been no credit with Shutterfly, there were about 230 prints I wasn't even being charged for.  I got to splurge at Sams', and STILL saved money! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you what.  I love Sam's Club more and more every day.  I don't care what people say... they save me money and I'm shallow like that :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1624246964775323697?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1624246964775323697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1624246964775323697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/getting-screwed-by-shutterfly.html' title='Getting screwed by Shutterfly'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3697759181187733241</id><published>2009-04-23T12:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T12:07:39.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Polo ponies.</title><content type='html'>Holy cow.  I hear now that all of those polo ponies that died were not killed intentionally.  The pharmacy mixed their supplements incorrectly, and so all of the horses died of internal bleeding.  That is so horrid.  It's no wonder that my father checks all of his pills every time they are refilled.  Too bad he has no idea about what I'm putting in his food... mwaahahahah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3697759181187733241?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3697759181187733241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3697759181187733241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/polo-ponies.html' title='Polo ponies.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5069525087322258163</id><published>2009-04-23T08:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T08:34:36.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Big jerk.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i.pbase.com/o4/22/637722/1/56267923.SweetGumBall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px" alt="" src="http://i.pbase.com/o4/22/637722/1/56267923.SweetGumBall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lady up the street, who 'didn't have an affair' with her roofer... now has the roofer living with her. And he's a real turd. For example, it's pouring down rain right now. He is standing in front of the house with a big broom and is brushing all the sweet gum balls that are drifting down the current along his driveway. Nevermind that they are now collecting in huge mounds in front of his neighbors house.. and they are an elderly couple. He's such a dick. And nevermind that you can be fined for sweeping them into the drain. I get it, they're a pain in the ass.. but don't push the problem along to your neighbor. That's just rude. I can't say MrNV has never swept any into our drain, but the drain is at the edge of our driveway. He would never sweep them in front of the neighbors house. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And WHAT is it with the guy across the street? He mowed his lawn yesterday, and dumped all the clippings into mounds around his trees. C'mon. I don't mind tree-huggery things, but that seriously looks like shit. Why not just start throwing your trash out there too? I wish everyone was as perfect a neighbor as I am :) Bwaaaaaahaha! I'm going to pay the kids this weekend to bag up sweetgums and we're gonna dump them all in slutty-roofer's driveway! Yeahhhh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5069525087322258163?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5069525087322258163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5069525087322258163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/big-jerk.html' title='Big jerk.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8573555798408550889</id><published>2009-04-20T22:48:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T23:12:24.094-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Flippin' door nightmares</title><content type='html'>So the Mister is having work done on the house. Started with replacing siding and painting. We want to make the house a warmer color, other than the grey tone it is now. I made the mistake of reminding him that we wanted to replace the front door.. when he mentioned doing all the wood out there. Agg. So we have an amazing stained glass window above the front door. It's made of huge chunks of glass, it has to be no less than 6" thick. For some reason the previous owners put a huge piece of glass over it, and nobody notices it now because of the glare. So I have been whining to have the glass cover removed since we moved in. It's all going to be done at the same time. We're adding a more gutsy frame around it. So now it's the door. I don't know what I was thinking when I suggested we replace it. Mister thinks I have skill in photoshop and I've morphed at least 30 doors onto the house. He hates mine, I hate his.. and the ones we agree on.. we hate when we wake up the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is a photo of the house today. And you can see how beautiful the window is from the inside, and I really wish all the colors were seen from the outside!  And yes, we're having the bricks fixed on the wall so no bitching about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1GE_kVKHI/AAAAAAAABdE/4o-p1ezt8PE/s1600-h/SGWindow1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326990985846401138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1GE_kVKHI/AAAAAAAABdE/4o-p1ezt8PE/s200/SGWindow1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1GE1czxxI/AAAAAAAABdM/4PCrijp_Tr0/s1600-h/SGWindow2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326990983130498834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1GE1czxxI/AAAAAAAABdM/4PCrijp_Tr0/s200/SGWindow2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DsVOrRZI/AAAAAAAABcM/M6NaU14CCMo/s1600-h/House_041909.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988363141170578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DsVOrRZI/AAAAAAAABcM/M6NaU14CCMo/s200/House_041909.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We really wanted something very antique and unique looking. We checked out a really amazing store downtown, but for just the single doors they wanted $700-$1000. And they needed work! Then someone sent us to a re-store kind of recycling place. Wow, amazing deals.. but no perfect door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some of the options I eked out. Excuse the missing spiral in this photo, it was taken last Fall after it had died. In some I tried to fake a paint job, or add some trim. Whatever. Any votes out there in blogger land? If you hate them all... ZIP IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1EQNjbPVI/AAAAAAAABc0/lLEjFsH1R5g/s1600-h/Sample12_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988979556007250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1EQNjbPVI/AAAAAAAABc0/lLEjFsH1R5g/s200/Sample12_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DsqkzosI/AAAAAAAABcU/ZHtZ61zcfVM/s1600-h/sample1_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988368871137986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DsqkzosI/AAAAAAAABcU/ZHtZ61zcfVM/s200/sample1_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DslixPlI/AAAAAAAABcc/WvI9wOGRYSA/s1600-h/sample2_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988367520415314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DslixPlI/AAAAAAAABcc/WvI9wOGRYSA/s200/sample2_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DswbJ9BI/AAAAAAAABck/BuzE2j4wNQs/s1600-h/Sample7_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988370441270290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DswbJ9BI/AAAAAAAABck/BuzE2j4wNQs/s200/Sample7_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DtHBOwDI/AAAAAAAABcs/AiNiMn-W9pw/s1600-h/Sample8_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988376506548274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1DtHBOwDI/AAAAAAAABcs/AiNiMn-W9pw/s200/Sample8_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1EQbQ9xhI/AAAAAAAABc8/TnV1DcOvIiw/s1600-h/sample14_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326988983236675090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1EQbQ9xhI/AAAAAAAABc8/TnV1DcOvIiw/s200/sample14_sm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8573555798408550889?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8573555798408550889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8573555798408550889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/flippin-door-nightmares.html' title='Flippin&apos; door nightmares'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Se1GE_kVKHI/AAAAAAAABdE/4o-p1ezt8PE/s72-c/SGWindow1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2379048491400257540</id><published>2009-04-20T18:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T18:13:15.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Piano Recital</title><content type='html'>Can't get Youtube to link the silly video, so &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MejYE7ukNTc"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;is Le Monkey banging on the piano.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2379048491400257540?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2379048491400257540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2379048491400257540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/piano-recital.html' title='Piano Recital'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4535724010479196041</id><published>2009-04-20T13:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T13:25:10.628-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh..</title><content type='html'>Dear Journal :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had to kick out my brother Saturday night.  Turns out he was sneaking in liquor in his Propel bottle.  He was stumbling around the kitchen drunk, so out he went to sleep in his car.  He left Sunday after sleeping it off.  I'm sure he'll show up here again.  He was asleep in the grocery store parking lot in our neighborhood lastnight.  Yes, my dad paid for rehab 3 times and he also went to a state sponsored rehab.  No, there is nothing we  can do.  He's 50.. when is he going to take responsibility for his own life?  Ugh.  My neighbors.  I can only imagine the crap they're thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend called for money over the weekend.  I picked her up and we sat at Sonic and I listened over a burger.  Odd how people are broke, yet are putting up new garage doors and just had all of the rooms in their house painted.  She only asked for $100, so that's all I gave her.  She was crying and frantic on the phone, I have no idea what's going on.  Her husband is laid off from Ford, but don't they still make 80% of their income or something?  And I went by her house after, she wanted me to see the painted rooms.  Her husband was as charming as usual, didn't even look away from his computer to say hello.  Blah.  Sometimes I wonder how some couples stay married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a positive note, Monkey did just fine at his recital Sunday.  He was frustrated that the song was easy, so we're going to ask for something more challenging for the next recital.  Poor kid :)  So his name is now Maestro :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4535724010479196041?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4535724010479196041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4535724010479196041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/sigh.html' title='Sigh..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3126444704316226106</id><published>2009-04-15T14:05:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T14:37:26.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Useless.</title><content type='html'>My brother is still staying with us. He randomly looks for jobs, and has been doing odd jobs for my sister. He stayed with her Sunday night.. she can only let him sleep over when her husband isn't around so he doesn't know. Pussy. Of course it's OK for us to take on the burden, and for me to have to deal with MrNV NOT being too happy about it. That's OK to her. So today he's 'tired' because he helped her plant flowers yesterday. It's 2:00, and so I yelled down to see what he was up to. "Watching TV". He's in our work room, it's actually a downstairs living room. Carpeted, even has a fireplace. But we vamped it into a work area with our giant printer and tables. It's nice enough. But you know what? That cable box will be shut off by Friday if fucktard doesn't start looking for 1- a new place to live and 2- a fucking job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then there is Todd's brother's widow. She has been laid off. Nice enough, I like her. But we're giving her boyfriend work so that they have money. Money that, at this point, they are working off. "Oh, we're gonna be there tomorrow at 8am".. this I hear all the time. And it's OK, it motivates me to get up early so that I'm ready. But.. here it is 2:00.. no show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. Whatever. I'm so fucking tired of moochers I can't stand it. Everyone wants money, but nobody wants to ever do the right thing to earn it. Give me give me give me. Just because I'm not broke and am able to be an at home mom, does NOT mean that I don't still work. MrNV and I do what needs to be done every day. We are still running a tile business, and MrNV has that other 'stuff' he does :)  He's on the phone constantly setting up 'things' :)  We don't call people asking for favors. Never have I ever asked a friend for money. My dad helped us out a few times when we started our business, I always paid him back. Even MrNV's dad helped now and then, and we paid him back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just mad. Not making much sense, but I'm just pissed. And I feel like a busy body bitch if I go down and see if he's drinking. But if I don't, then he will and then I'll be pissed for not checking. And it's all just so fucked up. And where else is he supposed to go? I can't just kick him out with a mission to ... go there. Cuz there is no there to go to. He shows up drunk at my house, and everyone just expects me to take him in. And if I don't then .. then what? Nothing really. The last time the cops kept him overnight, he ended up back at my house in a cab. He conned my neighbors out of cab fare, and that is just embarrassing. He showed up and I didn't answer the door. He vanished for a bit, and then the cab left. Turns out he told my neighbors the he AND I were locked out and that he needed $ for the cab and that we would pay him back. I mean.... what do I do? Seriously? He has no job, so where is he going to go? And if he goes to some shelter, he'll just get kicked out and show back up here again. All because my husband's brother died a few years ago and was a drug addict. So he feels guilty that he didn't do enough for him, and half-heartedly feels my stupid brother is his redemption or something. Yet he still gets mad at me because my brother is a drunk and we bicker about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then top it off with my dad. Luckily he likes my dad 80% of the time, and he is staying in his room right now. He's just as depressed that his son is a fuck up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...sigh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there is my son. What kind of fun is it having the drunk uncle around? That you can't get rid of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3126444704316226106?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3126444704316226106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3126444704316226106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/useless.html' title='Useless.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-6415798534458302668</id><published>2009-04-15T11:11:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T11:14:03.220-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I really did hurl!</title><content type='html'>I wouldn't bother posting this, but it says I have 666 posts.  I need to do something quickly!  But lastnight when I went to bed.. I really did hurl!  And I never hurl!  And I know it's because of Obama's dog.  I don't think I have thrown up since MrNV and I ate some bad Mexican food.. and that was before Monkey was born.  Amazing.  I ate a left-over chicken enchilada my mother made.  I just need to stop eating Mexican food.  ..sigh..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-6415798534458302668?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6415798534458302668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6415798534458302668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-really-did-hurl.html' title='I really did hurl!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4648933601349888709</id><published>2009-04-14T21:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T21:24:57.392-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reason 4,998 that I'm a bad parent.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Soooo&lt;/span&gt;.  Yesterday I went to get my hair did.  When I go in I take Alex so he can get a hair cut.  When she did my highlights and such, she had mixed too much &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt;.  So while she was doing Monkey's hair she added a couple tiny bits of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bwahaha&lt;/span&gt;!  You really can't tell, she did it just to torment him.  I don't go platinum, so it's a natural color.  He thought it was funny.  She said there is a boy at the salon, he has been getting highlights since he was 7.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Yeesh&lt;/span&gt;.  Anyway.  I'm a bad mom :)  And I am absolutely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;raising&lt;/span&gt; a metro male ;)  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4648933601349888709?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4648933601349888709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4648933601349888709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/reason-4998-that-im-bad-parent.html' title='Reason 4,998 that I&apos;m a bad parent.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1955951740892854535</id><published>2009-04-13T21:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T21:26:35.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurling...</title><content type='html'>If I hear one more story about Obama's dog.. I'ma hurl.  And I'm serious.  For starters.. he's not a pound puppy.. which I thought he promised to adopt?  Secondly.. I just don't care.  Does that make me a bad person?  I just don't care about what kind of pet is in the White House.  He could have rats, dogs, peacocks or lice... I Do Not Care!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1955951740892854535?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1955951740892854535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1955951740892854535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/hurling.html' title='Hurling...'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1488781270766806283</id><published>2009-04-12T22:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T22:54:03.896-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Misc Crap</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a mural MrNV made.. 'Flaming June'. And some pastries my father brought home from Andre's.. yummy! I eated the bunny. And my office is finally finished. While it was under construction-chaos I decided to take the pc apart and clean it. I almost went with the green color in the photo for my office, but ended up with a honey-butter kind of color. I love it. But I love that pillow and I was trying to match the colors.  It's OK, I still love the pillow.  I should have taken a before/after photo.. but it was just such insanity before. And now I'm waiting for the perfect chair to go in front of my desk. I'm just never happy :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tbJveJI/AAAAAAAABb8/Ej20zfdNa4o/s1600-h/Green.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324018601004333202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tbJveJI/AAAAAAAABb8/Ej20zfdNa4o/s200/Green.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tI0NRmI/AAAAAAAABbs/K9yT0Hf4xio/s1600-h/Andres.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324018596082173538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tI0NRmI/AAAAAAAABbs/K9yT0Hf4xio/s200/Andres.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tjXYlRI/AAAAAAAABcE/8qwt8muMYNo/s1600-h/Puter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324018603209037074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tjXYlRI/AAAAAAAABcE/8qwt8muMYNo/s200/Puter.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tel2zQI/AAAAAAAABb0/WTPLJ2HJ1bI/s1600-h/FlamingJune.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324018601927560450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tel2zQI/AAAAAAAABb0/WTPLJ2HJ1bI/s200/FlamingJune.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1488781270766806283?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1488781270766806283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1488781270766806283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/misc-crap.html' title='Misc Crap'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK2tbJveJI/AAAAAAAABb8/Ej20zfdNa4o/s72-c/Green.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2706723382502152957</id><published>2009-04-12T22:42:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T22:55:19.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Belated Easter</title><content type='html'>It rained here, boo! Had a bunch of friends over for dinner, and were forced to do an indoor Easter egg hunt. Bah. And I love the 2 chocolate bunnies, because they only have one eye! Cyclops bunny! Wheeee! They were grand prizes for the weenies.  Oh, and yes, the oil painting is of my father.  It's a famous painting, he had himself painted into it.  I love it, it's hilarious.  We call it his shrine.  Tee-Hee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1Fwd9CuI/AAAAAAAABa8/8TTsYuwTG14/s1600-h/EasterDinner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324016820019858146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1Fwd9CuI/AAAAAAAABa8/8TTsYuwTG14/s200/EasterDinner.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1F60AvZI/AAAAAAAABbE/bTl2tyziq50/s1600-h/EasterDinner2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324016822796729746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1F60AvZI/AAAAAAAABbE/bTl2tyziq50/s200/EasterDinner2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1GBF8v7I/AAAAAAAABbM/88KUrf40bJ8/s1600-h/EggHunt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324016824482578354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1GBF8v7I/AAAAAAAABbM/88KUrf40bJ8/s200/EggHunt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1GULbVVI/AAAAAAAABbU/ZGtiufUs7ow/s1600-h/EggHunt2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324016829605827922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1GULbVVI/AAAAAAAABbU/ZGtiufUs7ow/s200/EggHunt2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1bgoVrcI/AAAAAAAABbk/71XYc9QLw3A/s1600-h/EggHunt4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324017193725570498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1bgoVrcI/AAAAAAAABbk/71XYc9QLw3A/s200/EggHunt4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1FhF3FPI/AAAAAAAABa0/ZdRPOrhIQno/s1600-h/CyclopsBunnies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324016815892272370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1FhF3FPI/AAAAAAAABa0/ZdRPOrhIQno/s200/CyclopsBunnies.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1bcvS2vI/AAAAAAAABbc/6d2LC-2dGXk/s1600-h/EggHunt3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324017192681003762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1bcvS2vI/AAAAAAAABbc/6d2LC-2dGXk/s200/EggHunt3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2706723382502152957?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2706723382502152957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2706723382502152957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-belated-easter.html' title='Happy Belated Easter'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SeK1Fwd9CuI/AAAAAAAABa8/8TTsYuwTG14/s72-c/EasterDinner.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8342202377041735723</id><published>2009-04-08T15:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T15:14:54.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ha!  Still not working!</title><content type='html'>Alex's PS3 has been misbehaving lately, and yesterday wouldn't play his games at all.  We took it to Best Buy and it was not working for them either.  Soooo... I whipped out my trusty extended warranty (expires in December) and got a whole new system.  Actually an upgrade, it's 80gig verses the 40gig we had.  Bwahaha!  I did pay for a new extended warranty.. but that's OK.  I didn't pay $400 for a new system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring it!!  I'm STILL in a good mood!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8342202377041735723?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8342202377041735723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8342202377041735723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/ha-still-not-working.html' title='Ha!  Still not working!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-9100009367075238704</id><published>2009-04-07T19:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T19:58:03.318-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You're trying... but you'll not win evil demons! :)</title><content type='html'>OK.  So my mom and dad got into a fight lastnight, because my dad insinuated that her real father was an alcoholic.. and so it's HERRRR fault that my brother is an alcoholic.  Nice.  So while I was working yesterday I heard, "FUCK YOU!" and the door slammed.  And the funny thing is that she's a proper English lady.. and never cusses.  The guy helping me actually started laughing... because she sounded so funny.  So today I get an email that she's not coming to Easter.  ....sigh....  Kids.  I tell you.  So now it's MY job to placate my mother and make her all happy again so that she will not ruin Easter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my ceiling still looks like shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still in a good mood.  Although twice a year I get a migraine, and today is the day.  If I don't make any sudden movements... I still feel somewhat alright.  I'm serious, I'm not giving in.  I'm in a good mood, and I MEAN IT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-9100009367075238704?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/9100009367075238704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/9100009367075238704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/youre-trying-but-youll-not-win-evil.html' title='You&apos;re trying... but you&apos;ll not win evil demons! :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4429944577938234133</id><published>2009-04-07T09:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T10:07:35.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That's all you got?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SdtrWycYRJI/AAAAAAAABas/RnG0i9ehUtI/s1600-h/allaboutmep-huge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321965423910470802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SdtrWycYRJI/AAAAAAAABas/RnG0i9ehUtI/s320/allaboutmep-huge.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday&lt;/strong&gt;: Hubby leaves town for work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saturday Night&lt;/strong&gt;: Brother shows up drunk in front of my house. Passed out in his car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sunday Night:&lt;/strong&gt; Cops show up, flashing lights and all, at 10:30pm to investigate why there is a drunk guy passed out in front of my house. I'm advised he either comes in or will be taken away.. and his car towed. Which in the end costs the family $$... so drunk brother is now asleep on my basement floor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday:&lt;/strong&gt; The guy doing my office ceiling is sick, so my office will remain plastic covered chaos yet another day. Dad makes me unwrap his legs, his doctor told him he had to wait until Tuesday. They are better.. but .. well... really gross.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday:&lt;/strong&gt; My house is still disorganized chaos everywhere because all the office crap has consumed it. My pansies and all my beautiful Spring flowers are laying on the ground.. thank you Jack Frost. I'm quite certain my lilac bush won't be blooming yet again this year. Again, thanks Jack Frost. However, I'm still in a good mood? So... bring it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Update:  You know, my office looks like something out of the show 'Dexter'.  If anyone has seen that on HBO.  It's like a little serial killer room.  Perhaps I should invite my brother up....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4429944577938234133?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4429944577938234133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4429944577938234133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/thats-all-you-got.html' title='That&apos;s all you got?'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SdtrWycYRJI/AAAAAAAABas/RnG0i9ehUtI/s72-c/allaboutmep-huge.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-220439908772934927</id><published>2009-04-02T16:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T16:58:21.902-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monkey du jour</title><content type='html'>Today we were coming home from piano lessons.  We like to stop at Dollar Tree, it's nearby.. and I love any store where everything is a dollah!  After we left and were cruisin' down the highway;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes?"&lt;br /&gt;"The person that owns the Dollar Tree, they are a dollar-aire."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that a millionaire during a recession?? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-220439908772934927?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/220439908772934927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/220439908772934927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/monkey-du-jour.html' title='Monkey du jour'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-9201884779032493624</id><published>2009-04-02T10:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T10:28:23.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bla bla bla and bla</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SdTVtZC96qI/AAAAAAAABak/jld91kHYh_U/s1600-h/PhotoBooth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320112035625560738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 79px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SdTVtZC96qI/AAAAAAAABak/jld91kHYh_U/s320/PhotoBooth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And yes, we had a lot of fun in Vegas.  We enjoyed the drive through Colorado and Utah as usual.. it's just so beautiful.  We took my dad's little Scion.  I thought it would be horrid, but that little monster kicks arse on the highway.  We would be doing 80mph and not even realize it.. so I have no complaints.  Other than the fact that it's the size of my right shoe.  However, we got excellent gas mileage!  The tank is small and only took about $12 to $18 to fill .. depending on where we were.  Versus my van which takes about $30 to $40 to fill.  So that was odd.. having the tank fill so quickly :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Strange odd boy did get to have his birthday dinner on the top of Stratosphere, which is his favorite place.  As long as I don't pass out in the elevator ride up (or down) I'm fine.  It was just the 3 of us going up, with the operator.  I got the usual, "Are you alright?" question :)  Going down the thing was FULL, so there were so many factors horrifying me at that moment.. we were at the bottom before my mind really had time to focus on one :)  Whew!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We stayed at the MGM for a few nights, that was a first for me.  Rio is still my favorite, and we stayed there for a few nights.  And Hilton, but they're so far off the strip that you feel a bit like you have left Vegas.. which is just peachy fine with me.  I thought I uploaded photos to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Flickr&lt;/span&gt;, but I guess not yet.  I'll have to update.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now we're just back to homeschooling and we've been painting the inside of the house.  Finally that hideous wallpaper in my dining room and kitchen is GONE!  I'm thrilled.  The kitchen isn't finished yet, but will be soon.  When we moved in there was a hideous grapes wallpaper in there, and we've never fixed it.  Or that crap in the dining room.  I felt stuck in the 80's :)  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hope everyone out there in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bloggerland&lt;/span&gt; is doing great!  I will read what's going on.  I've been on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; for a while, but have grown tired of it.  I am sick of all the updates where everyone is taking 1001 tests on what kind of drink you are, what movie star are you... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;bla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;bla&lt;/span&gt; .... And on top of that, the people I couldn't stand in high school are sending me friend requests.  Right.  You were a complete bitch at school... so I REALLY care what you're doing now.  Nope.  I don't.  I know, I'm old and cranky.  But seriously, there was this girl named Pam.  She made &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;gradeschool&lt;/span&gt; a living hell.. other than this guy named Jason.  And I even saw her at my dad's restaurant once, and she was still a bitch to me.  So why would she ask to be my friend now?  When I accept a friend, it means I don't mind if you read my personal shit.  I don't want her reading my personal shit!  So.  I've declined a few people, and the rest are nuts.  Well, the ones from school :)  There was one lady I was happy to find, but she takes about 300 tests every day and I can't read what anyone else is doing.  So.  Anyway.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; stinks.  And Twitter I don't even understand, and don't want to.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I miss my blog :)  I can be happy or sad, angry or thrilled.  Someone can read it.. or not.  It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; matter, because it's just a chance for me to GET IT OUT!  It's my journal :)  And I like it.  And no mean little girl from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;gradeschool&lt;/span&gt; can bully me  :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-9201884779032493624?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/9201884779032493624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/9201884779032493624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/bla-bla-bla-and-bla.html' title='Bla bla bla and bla'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SdTVtZC96qI/AAAAAAAABak/jld91kHYh_U/s72-c/PhotoBooth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7171041620417641754</id><published>2009-04-02T10:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T10:10:19.284-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Log</title><content type='html'>I had the strangest dream lastnight, and I was so angry and freaked out through the whole thing.  I had a dream that I woke up and as I was coming downstairs I glanced at the overlook into the living room.. and it was all decorated for Christmas.  I walked over to the balcony area and as I could view the rest of the living room, everything was back just as it was at Christmas.  There was a tree all decorated with lights and ornaments.  There were even poinsettias everywhere... beautiful big red ones.  But I was so annoyed, as it was NOT Christmas.  When I came downstairs I found my dad in the kitchen asleep in a chair laying on the table.  He woke up and told me it was Christmas.  I explained that it was Spring, and asked why he would take the time to dig up all of the Christmas things.  He was acting crazy, and I can't remember now what all he said.. but he was determined it was Christmas.  And he wanted everything up because it made him happy.  (Which, in real life is a lie.. he hates Christmas :)).  For some reason I went into his room and took his guns, he was playing with them.  I think I was worried that he had gone insane... and nobody wants an insane man playing with guns :)  But in my dream I was really mad and yelling at him about how long it took us to put all that stuff away and now we would have to do it again. But I do remember thinking, "Oh, it's only a dream."... and then I would immediately think... "No!  It's not!  Your father has really gone insane.. you're awake!"  At one point I even woke up again in the dream.. to find Christmas stuff everywhere.  That was the most frustrating, because I didn't know what I was going to do with dad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  Luckily I am now awake and there are no Christmas ornaments.. and dad hates Christmas just as much as he did when I went to bed :)  Whew!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7171041620417641754?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7171041620417641754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7171041620417641754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/04/dream-log.html' title='Dream Log'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-971754277891588950</id><published>2009-02-17T15:39:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T15:47:53.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The kid is a freak.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SZswXnpC3AI/AAAAAAAABaM/qHqUulRfFwI/s1600-h/021709_Alex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303886168495152130" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SZswXnpC3AI/AAAAAAAABaM/qHqUulRfFwI/s320/021709_Alex.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SZswXvxSHRI/AAAAAAAABaE/YFz9GdYayEM/s1600-h/013108_Alex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303886170677189906" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SZswXvxSHRI/AAAAAAAABaE/YFz9GdYayEM/s320/013108_Alex.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took this photo today. It made me laugh. I guess this is why I'm homeschooling him, because he's just not right in the head :) But I don't think I'm helping him, so I can't complain :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-971754277891588950?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/971754277891588950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/971754277891588950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/02/kid-is-freak.html' title='The kid is a freak.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SZswXnpC3AI/AAAAAAAABaM/qHqUulRfFwI/s72-c/021709_Alex.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5148882406640222031</id><published>2009-02-16T17:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T17:51:03.969-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New and 'improved' my arse</title><content type='html'>Why do jerkweed shampoo companies have to improooooooove everything?  I have used Colorific Kiwi shampoo and conditioner for years.  YEARS!  It doesn't weigh down my hair, and leaves it soft.  I lhove it.  But the last bottle of shampoo I picked up had the annoying word 'NEW' on it.  I really didn't think that much of it, people switch things around or add 'new' for excitement.  But now, 2 weeks later, my hair is so dry!  And I'm pissed because now I have to find a new shampoo/conditioner combo that I like.  Why do they do it?  It's just so frustrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope.  Bitching about it here hasn't made me feel any better :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5148882406640222031?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5148882406640222031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5148882406640222031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-and-improved-my-arse.html' title='New and &apos;improved&apos; my arse'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4539790918556527618</id><published>2009-02-06T10:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T10:35:03.101-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mind boggler du jour</title><content type='html'>I don't understand this.  At all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/politics/first100days/2009/02/05/sources-charges-dropped-uss-cole-bombing-suspect/"&gt;http://www.foxnews.com/politics/first100days/2009/02/05/sources-charges-dropped-uss-cole-bombing-suspect/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps someone can s'plain that to me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4539790918556527618?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4539790918556527618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4539790918556527618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/02/mind-boggler-du-jour.html' title='Mind boggler du jour'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5179699266230407113</id><published>2009-02-04T20:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T20:04:41.152-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am sick.</title><content type='html'>Why do I find the movie 'House Bunny' so amusing?  lol!!!  I need therapy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5179699266230407113?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5179699266230407113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5179699266230407113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-am-sick.html' title='I am sick.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8043473100246028158</id><published>2009-02-03T16:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T16:41:57.325-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Phelps ... tee-hee</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SYjIH95f6CI/AAAAAAAABZM/UAZuU125i5E/s1600-h/phelpsbongg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298705000801757218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SYjIH95f6CI/AAAAAAAABZM/UAZuU125i5E/s320/phelpsbongg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to Sam's Club today, and as you walk in they barrage you with the temptation of huge flat-screen TV's. And there were boxes with images of Phelps swimming. His head was coming out of the water, and his mouth was open wide. And I was wishing that I had planned in advance.. and that I would have brought a bunch of printed bongs so that I could tape them below his face on all the boxes. Bwahahaha! Is that bad?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8043473100246028158?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8043473100246028158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8043473100246028158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/02/phelps-tee-hee.html' title='Phelps ... tee-hee'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SYjIH95f6CI/AAAAAAAABZM/UAZuU125i5E/s72-c/phelpsbongg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3895040245256480478</id><published>2009-01-23T15:56:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T15:56:27.663-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad TV.. sigh</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/J__T2dvaWww' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/J__T2dvaWww'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think I heard they are going to cancel Mad TV.  Why do they take away everything I love?  I'm so lucky that Switzerland is standing firm on producing that chocolate.. otherwise all will to live would be lost.  ...sniffle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of my favorite skits, I cry every time I see it :)  Praaaaise Jesus! :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3895040245256480478?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3895040245256480478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3895040245256480478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/01/mad-tv-sigh.html' title='Mad TV.. sigh'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7771827371738536994</id><published>2009-01-22T15:07:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T15:07:02.922-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Subwoofer Cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/zmRTGRbrATs' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/zmRTGRbrATs'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Haaaaaa!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7771827371738536994?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7771827371738536994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7771827371738536994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/01/subwoofer-cat.html' title='Subwoofer Cat'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2394899160358643282</id><published>2009-01-05T13:12:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T13:14:48.982-06:00</updated><title type='text'>First day back to school after the holidays....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SWJb8_RlyaI/AAAAAAAABXg/vZnSLtoYsiE/s1600-h/010509_bb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287890015821875618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SWJb8_RlyaI/AAAAAAAABXg/vZnSLtoYsiE/s320/010509_bb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;LOL :) Homeschool rules :) Doesn't everyone sleep with a gun??  He's passed out on the floor in front of my desk right now.  We both slept badly lastnight, both having nightmares.  So he's incredibly tired today.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2394899160358643282?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2394899160358643282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2394899160358643282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-day-back-to-school-after-holidays.html' title='First day back to school after the holidays....'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SWJb8_RlyaI/AAAAAAAABXg/vZnSLtoYsiE/s72-c/010509_bb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4260701941523202240</id><published>2008-12-17T13:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T13:36:34.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Idiots.</title><content type='html'>I'm related to idiots.  My sister and her wanker husband send out one of those stupid letters every year with their Christmas card.  I mainly only blame her husband for being the dick, because every year it's all about him or his family.  Not sure why they bother sending copies to my sister's side of the family at all, because I just hop up and down every year.  The whole first half of the letter is about how his dog died earlier this year.  OK, fine, I would be sad too.  However, her cat died and she was devastated.  Oh, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nevermind&lt;/span&gt; that my grandmother died at the amazing age of 92.  My sister was close to her.  Ugh.  Just wanted to document again today that my sister is lame and her husband is a dick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4260701941523202240?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4260701941523202240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4260701941523202240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/12/idiots.html' title='Idiots.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1738139947477966825</id><published>2008-12-16T14:31:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T14:48:08.422-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Homeschool Snow Day :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SUgRLT-EWuI/AAAAAAAABXU/TQGMIQo2r_I/s1600-h/121608_homeschoolsnowday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280489449128745698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SUgRLT-EWuI/AAAAAAAABXU/TQGMIQo2r_I/s320/121608_homeschoolsnowday.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A friend of mine called me a bit ago to inform me that today was a snow day.. and that if I'm schoolin' my boy then it's ABUSE! :) I took this photo with my phone and sent it back to her and told her this is what a homeschool snow day looks like :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm a meeeannnn one... I'm a Grinchhhhh....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the time we were practicing the whole &lt;em&gt;they're, their&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;there&lt;/em&gt; debacle. I like to spring that one on him randomly because he mixes them up. And a lot of people do! It's a huge annoyance to me when I'm subjected to these people online :) My son might be socially inept, but he will know when it's time for &lt;em&gt;they're&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;their&lt;/em&gt; or &lt;em&gt;there&lt;/em&gt;! Hooligans!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And please excuse the hideous wallpaper. I loathe it, but one room at a time :) And I bought a new front door mat yesterday, so the little non-slide thingy for under it is on the buffet, along with some bananas I bought yesterday. I'm a mess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1738139947477966825?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1738139947477966825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1738139947477966825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/12/homeschool-snow-day.html' title='Homeschool Snow Day :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SUgRLT-EWuI/AAAAAAAABXU/TQGMIQo2r_I/s72-c/121608_homeschoolsnowday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8315737389588549506</id><published>2008-12-09T17:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T17:22:41.842-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This was yesterday... it went down again today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/ST79sv476dI/AAAAAAAAA_I/xx2O6eRoMho/s1600-h/Gas120808.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277934758536145362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/ST79sv476dI/AAAAAAAAA_I/xx2O6eRoMho/s320/Gas120808.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mr.NV showing off our current gas prices. Although this is at Sam's Club which is 5 cents cheaper than anyplace else. And why is there no cents sign on the keyboard? I've always wondered that. I would like one. And I would like it NOW.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8315737389588549506?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8315737389588549506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8315737389588549506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/12/this-was-yesterday-it-went-down-again.html' title='This was yesterday... it went down again today'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/ST79sv476dI/AAAAAAAAA_I/xx2O6eRoMho/s72-c/Gas120808.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7223272341761008418</id><published>2008-12-07T23:38:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T23:38:43.840-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Badass :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/dX44mByGiwU' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/dX44mByGiwU'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Alex performed in his first piano recital today.  He thought he was too cool to take the music book up with him.. and actually had memorized the song.  But.. stage fright set in and he boogered it :)  But he still rocks and did great work.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7223272341761008418?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7223272341761008418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7223272341761008418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/12/mr-badass.html' title='Mr. Badass :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8921470191324442126</id><published>2008-11-24T08:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T08:31:38.437-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I just don't understand</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.boom2bust.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/bailout.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px" alt="" src="http://www.boom2bust.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/bailout.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm so tired of getting up every morning to find out the government is tossing billions more at some new company. It's sickening. This just can't go on. I'm no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;genius&lt;/span&gt;, but this is just not a good business plan at all for our economy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8921470191324442126?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8921470191324442126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8921470191324442126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-just-dont-understand.html' title='I just don&apos;t understand'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2596557795434460764</id><published>2008-11-23T18:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T18:57:07.191-06:00</updated><title type='text'>tee-hee-hee</title><content type='html'>Gas went down to $1.49 per gallon here.  Wheeeeee :)  Well, not that I drive a lot.  If I go down the street it's actually $1.44 :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2596557795434460764?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2596557795434460764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2596557795434460764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/tee-hee-hee.html' title='tee-hee-hee'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2673477458143398468</id><published>2008-11-14T12:26:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T12:28:29.602-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Monkey has Puppy Love</title><content type='html'>Alex has decided this is the best thing since Swiss cheese.  It is a LIVE puppy web cam! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object id="utv_o_60144" height="320" width="400" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000"&gt;&lt;param name="_cx" value="10583"&gt;&lt;param name="_cy" value="8467"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="Movie" value="http://www.ustream.tv/flash/live/317016"&gt;&lt;param name="Src" value="http://www.ustream.tv/flash/live/317016"&gt;&lt;param name="WMode" value="Transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="Play" value="-1"&gt;&lt;param name="Loop" value="-1"&gt;&lt;param name="Quality" value="High"&gt;&lt;param name="SAlign" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="Menu" value="-1"&gt;&lt;param name="Base" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="AllowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="Scale" value="ShowAll"&gt;&lt;param name="DeviceFont" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="EmbedMovie" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="BGColor" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="SWRemote" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="MovieData" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="SeamlessTabbing" value="1"&gt;&lt;param name="Profile" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="ProfileAddress" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="ProfilePort" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="AllowNetworking" value="all"&gt;&lt;param name="AllowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed name="utv_e_831894" id="utv_e_197670" flashvars="viewcount=true&amp;amp;autoplay=false&amp;amp;brand=embed&amp;amp;" height="320" width="400" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="transparent" src="http://www.ustream.tv/flash/live/317016" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2673477458143398468?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2673477458143398468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2673477458143398468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/monkey-has-puppy-love.html' title='Monkey has Puppy Love'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8151305775307541429</id><published>2008-11-09T22:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T22:41:45.837-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Leftover Halloween Thingies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first photo was of the hooligans trading candy on the kitchen floor. Yes, I hate my kitchen floor. But it will do :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other is of Monkey going to his friend's house to compost our pumpkins. They hurled them from their balcony so they would moosh into the compost easier. I guess :) The bat is a bit scar&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7QGKPIlI/AAAAAAAAA-w/R57RGXnkjjU/s1600-h/2008_1104_174801.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266884174438933074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7QGKPIlI/AAAAAAAAA-w/R57RGXnkjjU/s320/2008_1104_174801.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;y.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7Q3oDGgI/AAAAAAAAA_A/lUJLeo0VW1g/s1600-h/2008_1104_175038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266884187717310978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7Q3oDGgI/AAAAAAAAA_A/lUJLeo0VW1g/s320/2008_1104_175038.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7QhLVd-I/AAAAAAAAA-4/kCtS0NpP1Fc/s1600-h/2008_1104_174928.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266884181691299810" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7QhLVd-I/AAAAAAAAA-4/kCtS0NpP1Fc/s320/2008_1104_174928.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7P8xsuEI/AAAAAAAAA-o/ljkOipGa6YA/s1600-h/alex+halloween+2008+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266884171920095298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7P8xsuEI/AAAAAAAAA-o/ljkOipGa6YA/s320/alex+halloween+2008+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8151305775307541429?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8151305775307541429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8151305775307541429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/leftover-halloween-thingies.html' title='Leftover Halloween Thingies'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRe7QGKPIlI/AAAAAAAAA-w/R57RGXnkjjU/s72-c/2008_1104_174801.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2360867185450768044</id><published>2008-11-07T17:09:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T19:09:22.477-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah</title><content type='html'>I was going to ramble about political things I don't understand, but am burned out :)  So, Monkey has friends over tonight. They just left to go and ding-dong-ditch some girl 2 houses down.. she was mean or something. They left a croissanwich at her door (nerds). So I caught a photo before they left. Burger King needed a t-shirt in black, and that's the only one I could find. Bwahahahah!  And, the death of the pumpkins after Halloween :) A friend up the street took them for her compost.. so they are still living a good life. Well, a rotting good life.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRTmb6kh4MI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/665eMc1R4so/s1600-h/110708_dingdongboys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266087231556280514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRTmb6kh4MI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/665eMc1R4so/s200/110708_dingdongboys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRTmcP40rgI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/Nrv0LYxrh9A/s1600-h/110308_pumpkindeath.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266087237278543362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRTmcP40rgI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/Nrv0LYxrh9A/s200/110308_pumpkindeath.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2360867185450768044?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2360867185450768044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2360867185450768044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/blah.html' title='Blah'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRTmb6kh4MI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/665eMc1R4so/s72-c/110708_dingdongboys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3408028768288197904</id><published>2008-11-04T18:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T18:17:12.943-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post #2 Du Jour :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I couldn't get the Serval pics to work in the earlier post without botching the entire post. So, here they are. And I didn't realize I never posted photos from our vacation. They are &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/monkeysmumsie/sets/72157607047390019/"&gt;HERE &lt;/a&gt;if anyone is bored :)&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl3NJoARI/AAAAAAAAA9o/mZvxUr2dq6g/s1600-h/cat-68.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264960700981707026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl3NJoARI/AAAAAAAAA9o/mZvxUr2dq6g/s200/cat-68.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl3nkFGtI/AAAAAAAAA9w/HTQyMPgIJqg/s1600-h/cat-88.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264960708071987922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl3nkFGtI/AAAAAAAAA9w/HTQyMPgIJqg/s200/cat-88.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl36A42RI/AAAAAAAAA94/rQNJo9e4uPY/s1600-h/cat-102.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264960713024657682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl36A42RI/AAAAAAAAA94/rQNJo9e4uPY/s200/cat-102.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3408028768288197904?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3408028768288197904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3408028768288197904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/post-2-du-jour.html' title='Post #2 Du Jour :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDl3NJoARI/AAAAAAAAA9o/mZvxUr2dq6g/s72-c/cat-68.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2681719720710954926</id><published>2008-11-04T15:31:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T18:05:51.319-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDjFPwl2AI/AAAAAAAAA9g/XjzcIMs0XY8/s1600-h/Alexander_103108_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264957643665299458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDjFPwl2AI/AAAAAAAAA9g/XjzcIMs0XY8/s200/Alexander_103108_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDi42ClmXI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/ZthLdTTHjBE/s1600-h/2008_11022008halloween0060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264957430603028850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDi42ClmXI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/ZthLdTTHjBE/s200/2008_11022008halloween0060.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see blogger has not fixed its issues with loading pictures. Arses. I'll have to add them at the end, if I can.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Halloween was GREAT. Kids had a lot of fun, and the yard looked great. Considering it was on a Friday night and the weather was amazing, we didn't have as many trick-or-treaters as I had hoped. But we had at least 100. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monkey is doing great, and growing like a weed. A smelly weed with an attitude, but growing. I'm homeschooling him this year. Yup, it's true. We basically decided the Sunday night before school started. We went to 'meet the teacher' night and dropped off all his supplies. Sat through the speech.. and went home feeling nervous. Monkey is an animal at home, but incredibly shy at school. If he doesn't understand something he's afraid to ask and so lessons move along.. as they would anyway.. and I would basically spend the evenings re-teaching him what he learned at school that day. We talked to him about it, and he loved the idea. But after the meet the teacher night, we felt it was the best idea anyway. She explained there would be no grades but only 'P' for progressing. Monkey loves grades, he enjoyed trying to improve on anything which came home with a low grade on it. I just thought that was odd. And they were going to continue the boxes/lines/bars math thingy.. which I still don't understand. So he's already multiplying double digits by double digits... and I love the vocabulary books out there! He really enjoys trying to use his new words, and now that I know what he's learning I can incorporate it in things we do or quiz him on it when we're driving around. It's fun for all of us. He has more time now in the evenings for other classes. We put him in piano, and MrNV works with him daily on that. I'm excited. Once he has a solid hold on all the basics, perhaps we'll integrate him back in for High School. But I have a lot of amazing help from a friend that home schools. And Missouri is one of the easiest states for home schooling, as far as laws go. I have to chuckle, though. In going to the library there are many types of homeschoolers.. which is fine. But there are people that believe in just living life as a type of education. No structure at all. It makes me giggle, but maybe that works. I do love the idea that we can work the day around Monkey's mood. Once in a while if he's tired and sitting is not working out, we'll run errands and just do school later. If we're getting frustrated with new math things, we move on to English and do math later. Being able to customize is really paying off. But because he really does love it, it's really not an issue. He understands if he doesn't take learning seriously he'll be a train hopping bum when he grows up, and he's not too excited about that :) So... I'm a homeschooling mom now. Egads. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dad is doing great. Still living with us. He hurt his left arm a while back so he hasn't been cooking as much. I'm about to shut his cable off if he doesn't get on the ball! :) I'm going to shut it off anyway if he doesn't get out and vote today, it's already 3:46pm. Slacker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We voted today. Monkey filled in the circles for me. Being the big smelly REPUBLICAN that I am, I have to be sure to brainwash him at an early age. We may not win this election, but I can't complain about it if I don't vote. We were having Sunday dinners for a while and my father-in-law's democrat girlfriend would come. She's a great lady. And I respect everyone's right to decide what party works best for them. I think the checks and balances keep us honest. But man, she was definitely one tough cookie! My mom, dad, step-dad, husband and others tried very hard to bring her to the dark side.. never worked. So I will be happy for her if Obama wins today. And if nothing else, it will keep the news interesting. I was sort of suffering from a lack of candidate enthusiasm anyway. I just hate taxes. We're self employed and I write a check to the IRS literally every month. It's painful. And it's going to get more painful. I don't like pain. But, good luck to the winner.. and I hope you do a good job. I will admit, I'm ready for Bush to shuffle along now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and someone in our neighborhood.. a few blocks away... owns a serval. It's like a big kitty :) It was wandering around the hood one Saturday afternoon getting the neighbors riled. I'll post the photos, it was crazy. Turns out it is de-clawed and tame. But it was hissing at everyone, so who knows. But when people stalk me I tend to hiss too. I don't think it's legal to have one in the city limits, but nobody has been eaten yet so I'll let it slide :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go McCain! (sigh)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello Brashen! :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2681719720710954926?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2681719720710954926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2681719720710954926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-see-blogger-has-not-fixed-its-issues.html' title=''/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/SRDjFPwl2AI/AAAAAAAAA9g/XjzcIMs0XY8/s72-c/Alexander_103108_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-336434169139749957</id><published>2008-07-26T16:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T16:53:45.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nope, not dead..</title><content type='html'>the update... just busy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad moved in, and it's going great.  I now have a really great personal chef, although MrNV is wigging out with all the sauces.  But it's good, and I'm glad we did it.  For now :) &lt;br /&gt;Currently we're on vacation, so it's great that my dad can take care of the house and dogs while we're gone.  Saved me a big tab at the kennel since we're going on 2 weeks.  It's sort of a work-cation.  Lots of fun, and a tour of the pools of Vegas with Monkey.  We have sadly discovered that nobody seems to have a pool over 4 feet, and not a diving board for miles.  But the Golden Nugget in downtown Vegas has won, they have a water slide/tube which goes through a shark tank.  Very cool.  They won for fun factor.  The Palazzo won for damn fine looking pools.. wow that place is beautiful.  And they had at least 6 pools.  Two large ones, and a bunch of smaller surrounding pools.  Beautifully landscaped and on the 3rd (or 4th?) floor so it was private from walking traffic.  The Rio is alright.  They have a topless pool that I believe you pay $30 for entry, but from our room I think I saw only 1 topless girl.  I'm assuming they hire wenches to jazz the place up, but it wasn't particularly jazzy the few days we were there.  So it made me chuckle on days where it seemed there were lots of guys... and no women.  &lt;giggle&gt;  For a great value pool, The Tuscany won hands down.  We arrived early so I booked a room there online.  Lasvegas.com to be specific.  I got it for $39 a night, and it's incredibly close to the main strip.. in the MGM area.  It's really clean, not one of those hourly rate places :)  And it has a kitchenette, which is nice considering prices to eat around here have really gone up.  The funny thing is that while MrNV was checking in, I kept noticing larger women entering and exiting the hotel.  Groups of them, all dressed up and ready to party.  Being a well fed individual myself, I grew curious as I don't often see so many portly girls in one area all at once.  Turns out it was some sort of BBW convention.  At first I thought this was neat-o, until I discovered it was more of a BBW meeting admirers sorta debauchery.  This was fine, until we went to the pool.  I don't mind people being proud of their bodies, but show some discretion.. holy cow!  A bikini and thong is not ... just not.  But the pool wasn't bad at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and we ate at The Social House.  Monkey begged to eat at a restaurant that overlooked the pirate battle at Treasure Island.  Little did we know that it was.. sushi.  Egads.  But I had this really good appetizer that was raw yellow fin or something?  It was really good, and seared tuna.  But for dinner we had fried fish :)  We can only do so much raw food.  And we at at a nice little place along the water in The Venetian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, off to cause chaos.  I'll post photos later and get back to blogging.  Because I'm a craptastical blogger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Softballslut!  Congratulations on your wedding!  I haven't pulled the photos up yet, but thank you for forwarding them.  I'll do it now!  xoxox&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-336434169139749957?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/336434169139749957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/336434169139749957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/07/nope-not-dead.html' title='Nope, not dead..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8680012412676924327</id><published>2008-04-28T21:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T21:14:42.602-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Moment of Zen :)</title><content type='html'>So my dad moved in today.  It went well, he hired movers and helpers and such so he didn't have to lift things.. and that was great.  So he's in his room now .. which is next to my office .. and I can hear him over there sorting through his things.  Monkey wandered in there with his homework and is laying on the floor while my dad does his thing.. and it's just sorta calming now.  I know MrNV is not super thrilled about my dad moving in, but I think it's going to work out.  And I just have a calm knowing that he needed to be in a happy place.. and that we are able to be it.  And I like knowing that if something happens, we're here to help him.  He's getting old and simple tasks can sometimes be a challenge.  So, it's a good day.  I certainly hope it doesn't turn out to be a mistake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8680012412676924327?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8680012412676924327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8680012412676924327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/moment-of-zen.html' title='Moment of Zen :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4758459754636391970</id><published>2008-04-21T14:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T14:54:03.180-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of a bad daughter</title><content type='html'>..giggle..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been working towards my dad moving in, he wants to be here by May 1st.  Today he had some auction company come by and pick up all his art and antiques and such.  Yesterday he called upset because everyone we have asked to help him has blown him off.. as usual.  So I took the little kiddo-s by lastnight and they worked hard moving things around.  While in his spare room, I noticed that he still had my Aunt's hand painted china in the closet.  This would be the china I ranted about last year that he told me he had sold.  It was the last set she worked on, and she had it finished by art students when she became too ill to finish it.  He did give me a dinner plate set with vegetables on it, which I greatly appreciated.  I got it last month.  But this was the original set I had asked for, and he decided to fuck with me.  So lastnight MissA was in the room with me, and my dad was elsewhere.  She helped me snag the tea pot, creamer and sugar jar.  Bwahahahah!  I remembered the tea pot, which was the part I really wanted.  It had her initials on the bottom, the rest were done by the students.  So today when I went over there to help pack up the rest of the things, he said he was not selling it... because.. mumble mumble.. wants it.  He said 'what's her name'.. which would be one of my bitch sisters.  So I am THRILLED that I took the 3 pieces lastnight.  Neither of my sisters ever liked my Aunt, and I would feel ill knowing they had it.  Bwahahah!  I know.  So petty.  They can have the rest of the set because all they care about is how it 'looks' not that it has any sentimental value.  I'll post a photo later, but I needed to get my sin off my chest :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll say 3 hail Mary's and be on my way :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4758459754636391970?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4758459754636391970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4758459754636391970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/confessions-of-bad-daughter.html' title='Confessions of a bad daughter'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2439246579025472720</id><published>2008-04-10T10:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:46.256-06:00</updated><title type='text'>True Love :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R_41Mix3fbI/AAAAAAAAA8g/Ufj8qKFDSv8/s1600-h/Cartman_tsst.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R_41Mix3fbI/AAAAAAAAA8g/Ufj8qKFDSv8/s320/Cartman_tsst.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187642310388055474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love Cartman.  I do.  Lastnight I watched an episode I've not seen before, 'Tsst!'.  Holy cow, I laughed until I cried.  Cartman's mother tries to get him under control by calling &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nanny 911&lt;/span&gt;, then &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Supernanny&lt;/span&gt;.. and when all else fails... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Dog Whisperer&lt;/span&gt;!  Holy cow!  I recorded it, and will covet it until I die :)  He teaches Cartman's mother to use the fingers on the neck and 'Tsst!' sound to DOMINATE little Cartman :)  Bwaaaaaaaaaaahahah!  Now I shall try this on Monkey Boy :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2439246579025472720?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2439246579025472720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2439246579025472720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post.html' title='True Love :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R_41Mix3fbI/AAAAAAAAA8g/Ufj8qKFDSv8/s72-c/Cartman_tsst.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-662176566612815801</id><published>2008-04-07T15:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T15:54:05.687-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Come ON!</title><content type='html'>I walked through the office to hear on the TV people are upset because at some grade school kids were encouraged to 'cross dress' for wacky week.  They're not saying, "Hey, try looking like the opposite gender.. you might find you like it more and you'll totally reject heterosexuality!"... they're just being silly.  People have done that for as long as I can remember, and surely before that even.  Guys were always dressing up as girls for Halloween when I went to school.. mainly in High School.. but I don't remember much of grade school :)  And I remember going to a musical, can't think of the name of it right now, where Navy guys were dressed as women for a skit they were doing.  I'm quite certain that musical was around before I was.  Why does everything have to be so serious anymore?  I'm about 2 news reports away from moving to ... somewhere they still have a sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Musical is 'South Pacific'.  There was a part where they dressed as women, right?  At any rate.  People need to LIGHTEN UP!  Man!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-662176566612815801?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/662176566612815801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/662176566612815801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/come-on.html' title='Come ON!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4259726730623881042</id><published>2008-04-07T12:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T12:07:25.452-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe he should not be a doctor when he grows up..</title><content type='html'>Monkey perked up with this in the car the other night, took MrNV and I a moment to translate :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monkey:  "I really don't want my testicles removed."&lt;br /&gt;Me and MrNV:  basic look of, 'uh?'&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "What?  What are you talking about?"&lt;br /&gt;Monkey:  "I don't want my testicles removed."&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Yah, got that.  Why would you even say that?"  (.. thinking maybe he's referring to the fact we just had the dog Bandit fixed)&lt;br /&gt;Monkey:  doesn't answer, as he's trying to figure out WHERE the confusion is&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "It's not something you would ever have done.  You really shouldn't go around saying things like that."&lt;br /&gt;Monkey:  realizes maybe it was all lost in translation.. and tries to explain.  "You know, when you have surgery and you get a lot of ice cream after?"&lt;br /&gt;MrNV and I:  Ohhhhhhhhh&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Um, those are called tonsils.  Totally different."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4259726730623881042?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4259726730623881042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4259726730623881042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/maybe-he-should-not-be-doctor-when-he.html' title='Maybe he should not be a doctor when he grows up..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4664691366027229301</id><published>2008-04-05T16:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:46.521-06:00</updated><title type='text'>..sigh..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R_fvtF6GVNI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/0KFN3lmjfMo/s1600-h/040508alt_5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R_fvtF6GVNI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/0KFN3lmjfMo/s320/040508alt_5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185877053899429074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am officially a photo takin' soccer mom.  You can see more &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/monkeysmumsie/sets/72157604397196728/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, if you're insane :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4664691366027229301?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4664691366027229301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4664691366027229301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/sigh.html' title='..sigh..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R_fvtF6GVNI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/0KFN3lmjfMo/s72-c/040508alt_5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7905891155053313543</id><published>2008-04-02T21:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T21:28:23.578-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A huge lie</title><content type='html'>Anyone that knows me, knows that this award is so incredibly wrong :) I must really keep it clean for my blog. Sheesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/v/blog_cuss"&gt;&lt;img alt="The Blog-O-Cuss Meter - Do you cuss a lot in your blog or website?" src="http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/img/badges/blog_cuss_low_0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Created by &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/"&gt;OnePlusYou&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7905891155053313543?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7905891155053313543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7905891155053313543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/huge-lie.html' title='A huge lie'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-826059356814167687</id><published>2008-04-02T16:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T16:58:31.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My learnin' for today</title><content type='html'>I have always spelled the word visible.. with an a.  Visable.  It just sounds right, as far as how I pronounce it.  I guess it makes sense, it goes with vision I suppose.  I'm certain I've also spelled it visability.  I don't say vis-IH-bility... I say vis-UH-bility... right?  Anyway.  I've always thought I had a grasp on spelling, it was always my favorite subject.  Lucky me I wasn't in a Spelling Bee.. that would have been embarrassing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-826059356814167687?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/826059356814167687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/826059356814167687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-learnin-for-today.html' title='My learnin&apos; for today'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8265376155507995885</id><published>2008-04-02T15:10:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T15:13:16.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now Hiring... Bun Buffer</title><content type='html'>So I asked MrNV if he wanted a new job.. and showed him graphic representation of what would be required.  He started glowing like the sun.  Well, brighter really.  Like that commercial with the glimmery teeth?  So then I was thinking that 'Bun Buffer' for Gisele Bundchen might also be the perfect job for the Rockdog and possibly even Sirdar.. if he can get a written permission slip from MrsSirdar :)   So I thought I'd give you all an equal opportunity to apply...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click &lt;a href="http://www.dlisted.com/node/24979/images/585253.jpg"&gt;HERE &lt;/a&gt;to apply for this job :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8265376155507995885?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8265376155507995885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8265376155507995885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/04/now-hiring-bun-buffer.html' title='Now Hiring... Bun Buffer'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2236395074329525170</id><published>2008-03-27T20:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T20:33:03.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poety Monkey</title><content type='html'>Monkey gave me his journal today and wanted me to read his poem thingy about dancing :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Dance"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dancing&lt;br /&gt;80's&lt;br /&gt;dancing&lt;br /&gt;break dancing&lt;br /&gt;curly hair&lt;br /&gt;fancy cars&lt;br /&gt;fancy glasses&lt;br /&gt;fancy pants&lt;br /&gt;fancy shirts&lt;br /&gt;tapping shoes&lt;br /&gt;tap... tap... tap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It made me laugh, so I had to share it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2236395074329525170?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2236395074329525170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2236395074329525170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/03/poety-monkey.html' title='Poety Monkey'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3509601018253647153</id><published>2008-03-25T22:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T22:46:59.158-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream log for Sirdar :)</title><content type='html'>OK, I hafta make a quick note so I don't forget, and will fill it all in tomorrow :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;broken sad toys that went into machine&lt;br /&gt;presents&lt;br /&gt;King Midas&lt;br /&gt;round concrete thingy that went into the ground&lt;br /&gt;battle&lt;br /&gt;evil kid&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3509601018253647153?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3509601018253647153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3509601018253647153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/03/dream-log-for-sirdar.html' title='Dream log for Sirdar :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5524657418651648477</id><published>2008-03-21T23:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:47.279-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas came early :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6F6GVKI/AAAAAAAAA8A/_5CTRAiHO2U/s1600-h/MonkeyPiano032108.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6F6GVKI/AAAAAAAAA8A/_5CTRAiHO2U/s320/MonkeyPiano032108.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180426998098842786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6V6GVLI/AAAAAAAAA8I/N2k_gmb971A/s1600-h/Piano2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6V6GVLI/AAAAAAAAA8I/N2k_gmb971A/s320/Piano2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180427002393810098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6l6GVMI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/xKIiJPtHWCE/s1600-h/Piano3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6l6GVMI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/xKIiJPtHWCE/s320/Piano3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180427006688777410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MrNV plays the piano.  We have an upright, his father gave it to us some years ago when we lived in our apartment.  He doesn't play as often as he should, but the other tenants always commented that they enjoyed hearing him.  His father is a pianist, and he can play anything.  Since he's in the biz, he knew a guy that knew a guy.. and he called us Wednesday night.  He wanted to show MrNV a piano that he wanted to buy for us.  These things usually turn out to be something he has to refurbish.. which is fine but it takes him forever.  So MrNV crawled out of bed at 8am and went with his pa.. and returned with this amazing beast!  It has a sad story, but will have an amazing future!  A sweet little old 80 year old lady had purchased it for her husband, he was very sick.  The doctor told her that it would help him during rehab to hear music.  If you're gonna do something.. do it big I guess.  She purchased this monster player grand piano for him in 98.  Sadly he passed away recently and she is downsizing.  This piano made her sad and she only wanted $500 for it to just go away.  After seeing it, my jaw had to be removed from the floor.  My husband is so happy, and it sounds so amazing!  You put in a little disk of music, she included them, and the little keys go to town.  And we didn't take advantage of the little lady, I promise.  I guess she was very wealthy, and didn't want more for it at all.  Maybe she was happy knowing it would have a new future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I might take a photo of Monkey sitting at the piano and send it to her with a thank you note.  Maybe it will make her smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.  We'll have to reorganize our living room, but we'll make it all work out.  Who knows, I might even learn to play now :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5524657418651648477?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5524657418651648477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5524657418651648477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/03/christmas-came-early.html' title='Christmas came early :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R-SS6F6GVKI/AAAAAAAAA8A/_5CTRAiHO2U/s72-c/MonkeyPiano032108.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-6581014781760708145</id><published>2008-03-16T13:46:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T14:09:05.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My wee brain has deducted... I am a fleshy filter.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.usgcrp.gov/usgcrp/images/ocp2003/WaterCycle-optimized.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.usgcrp.gov/usgcrp/images/ocp2003/WaterCycle-optimized.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my brain works in odd ways. It does the best it can with what it has to work with, you should be impressed :) But I don't understand the message about wasting water. My son brings home these little eco-friendly tree hugging brochures about not wasting water.. turn off water when you're brushing your teeth.. and all this. But at the same time, he did this big poster about 'The Water Cycle'. So my brain has been filtering all this new information.. and sent out an ERROR message. Based on this water cycle, water basically recycles itself.. no? If they wanted to send home brochures to quit polluting the water.. OK.. I can grasp that. But when I'm brushing my teeth and running gallons of fresh water down the sink hole thingy.. it is not wasted? To me wasted means.. you just can't do squat with it again. Like when I wipe with toilet paper? That paper is wasted.. know what I mean? Holy cow! But, when I flush that toilet all that water goes to a very smelly place.. and then is recycled back into somewhat tolerant water and dumped back into the Missouri river. It prances and swirls along in the river, only to be sucked up again later by another water processing station down the way.. where it will go through it all again. So on and so forth.. nothing wasted? So I thought, if I put a bucket of water on the back deck.. OK, maybe that is wasted cuz it's not doing anything and can't be used. But it's not true, because what happens to that water? Again, I reference the handy Water Cycle graphic.. it evaporates into the clouds. Clouds become full. Storms dump on your head.. and it all starts over again. And if I water my plants and grass? Still not wasted. For starters, we need healthy plants and vegetation to survive.. they like clean the air or oxygenate it or something. Don't have that handy graphic. But when they process water, they do that 'transpiration' thing (not noted on this graphic, sorry), where they release it like evaporation back into the clouds.. and again we're back to rain. So no matter where the water ends up, does it not all end up recycled in the end anyway? It's like a huge circle. Clouds... ground... my body... plumbing... rivers.. evaporation... clouds.... right? So am I not, in actuality, recycling water? If the water just sat in a pond would it not become stagnant and rancid without some sort filtration. I am a human filter.. and I just can't feel guilty about it anymore. And that is what my tiny brain has produced today. I am certainly a danger to the environment. Now go drink some water. And while doing so .. think to yourself... did Lorraine drink this first?!?! Yeah baby!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(I clicked enter here to create a new paragraph, but the program isn't working with me. Harumph)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking of recycling. To all you mental midgets out there that put out that stupid blue recycling tub every Monday with the trash? You are seriously starting to piss me off. Do you understand that when you just lazily put things on the top and don't weigh them down, they are going to blow all over the neighborhood by morning? Monday's are bad enough, but to watch your pizza boxes, cans and various wrappers blowing around the neighborhood SERIOUSLY pisses me off. It is such a fucked up theory... Oh yes.. let's recycle. Who gives a flying shit if you're LITTERING UP MY BEAUTIFUL NEIGHBORHOOD in the process! Idiots. Why don't you cut down a tree and lay it on top so that your trash isn't in my yard tomorrow. I'd be SUPER grateful!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-6581014781760708145?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6581014781760708145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6581014781760708145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-wee-brain-has-deducted-i-am-fleshy.html' title='My wee brain has deducted... I am a fleshy filter.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3482942684565855559</id><published>2008-03-12T18:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T18:26:14.678-05:00</updated><title type='text'>giggle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/ydmmg7-VXSw' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/ydmmg7-VXSw'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think our dog would have destroyed the TV within minutes ;)  Such a cute puppy!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3482942684565855559?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3482942684565855559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3482942684565855559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/03/giggle.html' title='giggle'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8242202195398120809</id><published>2008-03-10T19:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:47.600-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shit.  I'm a soccer mom.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R9XbDDXBxiI/AAAAAAAAA7g/vVKVchv06cE/s1600-h/031008_sm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R9XbDDXBxiI/AAAAAAAAA7g/vVKVchv06cE/s320/031008_sm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176284192220235298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So 40 might not be so bad after all.  I'm finally feeling tons better, and today was a beautiful day outside.  Spring just really makes you feel 100% better!  And I suppose when you're sick for weeks, and then finally you feel good.. you might feel like you did before you were sick but it just feels BETTER... so I feel like I have improved :)  Um.  Well, it makes sense to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran errands today, shipped murals and got shit done.  Then as I was making calls for MrNV this evening regarding soccer practice.. it hit me.... I'm a soccer mom!  Crap.  Monkey Boy wanted to take a break from baseball and try soccer, because he loves to run.  Does not love sitting on the bench.  So we'll see how it goes.. I'm pretty excited.  MrNV volunteered to be an assistant coach, and somehow ended up being head coach.  Bad since he travels so much, but it all worked out and he has a co-coach :)  Plus I'll be there, and yelling at kids is sort of my thing.  I'm good at it.  Can I cuss?  That might become an issue.  Plus it's co-ed, so that should be interesting.  I am annoyed that I called all the parents, and 3 of them can't practice on Thursday nights due to multiple other classes their kids are in.  ?!?!  One is playing baseball and the other had jazz and then some other class followed.  C'mon now.  And baseball always eeks in Saturday games, so how will that not compete with soccer?  And when do they do their homework and school projects??!!  Sheesh.  I tell ya.  Those kids are gonna be burned out by the time they join the work force :)  Oh well.  Just my opinion I guess.  Whatever happened to being a kid?  Having fun and climbing trees?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While driving down the highway today my wee brain had a conversation with itself and wanted to know how my new glasses looked.  So I took a picture, and I liked it :)  I like the highway on my glasses.  Nope, nobody out there... I'm so fast!  But I love the little dragonflies on my sunglasses.  They have little glittering stones :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was mad today.  He bought a bag of fresh garlic cloves, and discovered it was from China.  China?  Seriously.  You can't even get fresh garlic grown in the US?  I don't even know where to shop or what to buy anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone is doing great.  Off to continue trying to be productive :)  Or, to play Puzzle Pirates!  Hey, Dawg, Monkey Boy has his own sloop now :)  I'm learning navigation and battle navigation.  Battle navigation is kind of a drag as I never have loaded cannons.  But,  I win battles and get a bit of poe in the process :)  Loading cannons is arse.  Seriously.  It should be banned and then destroy the program.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8242202195398120809?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8242202195398120809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8242202195398120809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/03/shit-im-soccer-mom.html' title='Shit.  I&apos;m a soccer mom.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R9XbDDXBxiI/AAAAAAAAA7g/vVKVchv06cE/s72-c/031008_sm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-144175528564925754</id><published>2008-02-25T07:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T07:31:29.311-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Giggles :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/sIQrBouWRiE' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/sIQrBouWRiE'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I pulled up Perez today to see if anyone was WORST dressed lastnight at the Oscars.. and still I find nothing.  Man, everyone did a good job.  Jerks!  But found this video, Jimmy is getting back at his girlfriend.  So funny.  As Perez mentioned, these are some of the stars in his video (although I still love the one with Matt more):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Featuring appearances by: Brad Pitt, Harrison Ford, Cameron Diaz, Joan Jett, Macy Gray, Robin Williams, Don Cheadle, Pete Wentz, Perry Farrell, Benji and Joel Madden, Lance Bass, Huey Lewis, Josh Groban, McLovin and Meatloaf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and PS, I'm sorry I didn't have my Oscars contest this year.  I still have the prizes I've been saving all year, I'll come up with something else.  Just haven't been feeling 100% yet and didn't get a chance to post it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-144175528564925754?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/144175528564925754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/144175528564925754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/02/giggles.html' title='Giggles :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4983600399707588574</id><published>2008-02-18T03:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T03:11:31.716-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Because I'm flippin' brilliant!</title><content type='html'>I was closing out a screen and noticed tips on how to look younger.  And this was #1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Put your blow-dryer on cold and make your lotions do more:  Use your blow-dryer on a cold setting to dry your lotion and sunscreen, says dermatologist Fredric Brandt, MD, author of 10 Minutes/10 Years. Allowing skin care products to set makes your makeup go on more smoothly and last longer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I already do this!  For a long time now I stopped drying my face when I get out of the shower.  I leave the little bit of water there, and then blend it in with my lotion.  Then when I'm all done, I put my dryer on low cold and use it on my face.  Ha!  So THAT is why I still look like I'm 19.. and not 40!  I knew it!  Bwahahahah!  Oh shut up.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;And I don't know who said not to drink alcohol while taking pain medications, but they are totally wrong!  Some muscle relaxers, hydrocodone and Crown Royal and the world is just a more beautiful place :)  I am happy to report I can sit up for longer than an hour now.  I did drive my car today, so that was a bonus.  The baby boy shoveled all the snow from our walkway so I wouldn't fall.. cuz he's wonderful :)  And I'm doing well.  Slow... but well.  OK, a little twitchy.. but overall much better :)   ...reaching for Crown Royal....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4983600399707588574?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4983600399707588574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4983600399707588574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/02/because-im-flippin-brilliant.html' title='Because I&apos;m flippin&apos; brilliant!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7031830028165991508</id><published>2008-02-15T21:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T23:24:14.507-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In with a bang.... or was that a POP??!</title><content type='html'>So I've always said my 40's would be my best years ever.  Pfft.  They're not starting out to be the best, so I'm a bit skerred.  I was sick all last week, and spent my birthday recovering from a really bad cold.  Saturday night I cried and coughed all night.  You know those colds where you feel somewhat fine all day, but then as soon as you curl up into bed you hack and heave the night away.  So Sunday I decided to take some sort of magical sleeping pill.  I slept so well that I didn't budge until I woke up at 7:30 when the alarm went off.  I slept with tons of pillows under my head so that I would be vertical.. and slept on my left side.  This.. it seems.. is the combination of death.. as I could not move my left leg.  I could barely walk down the stairs, and ended up crying on the floor for 2 days.  Seems I have bulged a disk, or some sort of icky thing.  It's ass.  I went to see a doctor Wednesday afternoon and got a few muscle relaxers, and that was OK.  But that night ended up at the hospital because I screamed just to walk to the bathroom.  ..sigh..  At any rate, I'm able to sit up today in my chair.  My father brought me crutches AND a walker today :)  So this must be the greatness of turning 40?  I have never experienced this kind of pain.  Even giving birth was over in one day :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I did have a nice birthday regardless.  And my husband is wonderful, I just want to say for the record.  He has been so sweet to me this week and so very helpful.  Even when I'm a psychotic crying babbling idiot screaming at him to leave me alone :)  He fixed me up with a comfortable bed on the floor, which is where I was stuck.  Helped me get good meds and things to help me stop coughing.  Sometimes Valentine's Day can be a box of chocolates.. and other times it's just the reminder that he really does love me for better or for worse :)  I can't imagine what I would have done had I been alone.  I sure do love that guy :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7031830028165991508?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7031830028165991508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7031830028165991508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/02/in-with-bang-or-was-that-pop.html' title='In with a bang.... or was that a POP??!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7414153983740709881</id><published>2008-02-05T08:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T08:08:59.946-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My 2nd Favorite :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/SkvI4NoUX6E' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/SkvI4NoUX6E'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is the one with the grasshopper.  Bwahaha!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7414153983740709881?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7414153983740709881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7414153983740709881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-2nd-favorite.html' title='My 2nd Favorite :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4029963061478421157</id><published>2008-02-05T08:06:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T08:06:59.896-06:00</updated><title type='text'>..giggle..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/pFGq0j4u15s' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/pFGq0j4u15s'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;MrNV is out of town, but we agreed that this was our favorite Super Bowl commercial :)  I also loved the Bridgestone commercial where the squirrel screams.. then all the other animals screamed.. and the little grasshopper.  That grasshopper screaming killed me! :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4029963061478421157?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4029963061478421157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4029963061478421157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/02/giggle.html' title='..giggle..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5543680933916711838</id><published>2008-02-01T10:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T10:58:34.045-06:00</updated><title type='text'>LOL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/4KUowJzpgxs' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/4KUowJzpgxs'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is a funny video Sarah Silverman made for her boyfriend Jimmy Kimmel.  I don't like her that much, but she's really funny in this.  And I do love Matt Damon :)  He can be so serious, but so funny.  He also played a rocker in some silly movie, European Road Trip or something?  Where he stole some guy's girlfriend.  He was my favorite part of the whole movie :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5543680933916711838?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5543680933916711838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5543680933916711838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/02/lol.html' title='LOL!'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-6979300893979791418</id><published>2008-01-31T11:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T11:04:01.502-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thriller...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/X6EDAZ3crdY' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/X6EDAZ3crdY'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is cute, video from London.  The most fun I ever had commuting on a train was flirting with this really cute Swiss guy while he practiced his English en route to Zurich every morning.  He and his girlfriend would read the words and I would OF COURSE correct him!  :)  I thought I could win him away from his woman with my speakin' skillz... never happened.  My career as a homewrecker ended :)  Although it was fun because by the time we boarded the train was full, and we had to all stand.. like cattle.. against each other :)  ..giggle..  I didn't MEAN to knock his woman to the ground!  The train rocked, sheesh!  Don't judge!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-6979300893979791418?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6979300893979791418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6979300893979791418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/thriller.html' title='Thriller...'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1963226554391222971</id><published>2008-01-28T13:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T13:09:40.728-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Technology you pee on??</title><content type='html'>I was sitting here typing my response to MrJay, and there was a commercial on.  I was tuning it out until it started toting whatever it was as the greatest piece of technology... that you will ever pee on??  OK.  Icky, but it at least caught my attention :)  It was for the Clear Blue Easy pregnancy test :)  When I glanced up there was a stream of.. um.. liquid.. landing on the test strip.  LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1963226554391222971?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1963226554391222971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1963226554391222971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/technology-you-pee-on.html' title='Technology you pee on??'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5183994459093333247</id><published>2008-01-28T11:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:48.684-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes.  The world is coming to an end.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54M7Kj-xfI/AAAAAAAAA7I/8FQVW9xz6bc/s1600-h/1962_EType_Jaguar_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 217px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54M7Kj-xfI/AAAAAAAAA7I/8FQVW9xz6bc/s320/1962_EType_Jaguar_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160576433600251378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54M7aj-xgI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/_l7cH4obp_Y/s1600-h/Childhood_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 217px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54M7aj-xgI/AAAAAAAAA7Q/_l7cH4obp_Y/s320/Childhood_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160576437895218690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that everyone has it marked on their calendar, but just incase, I turn 40 on February 9th!  Yes, it's true.  Every year I ask for my XKE, and have yet to receive it.  I'm not sure where the miscommunication is?  I couldn't be more clear?!?!  If I don't get it I'm gonna be horribly angry.  We don't want that, do we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm OK with it though.  I've been saying for the last year that I'm 40, so I really feel like I'm turning 41.  I think I'll be just fine.  As long as I get my JAG!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5183994459093333247?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5183994459093333247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5183994459093333247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/yes-world-is-coming-to-end.html' title='Yes.  The world is coming to an end.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54M7Kj-xfI/AAAAAAAAA7I/8FQVW9xz6bc/s72-c/1962_EType_Jaguar_3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-77166068096784424</id><published>2008-01-23T00:24:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:48.975-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Exhale...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5bo0qj-xcI/AAAAAAAAA60/G-SLchZIsiY/s1600-h/pastries.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5bo0qj-xcI/AAAAAAAAA60/G-SLchZIsiY/s320/pastries.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158566414675527106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm feeling disappointed in people lately.  Has really been eating at me, so I really think I need to write about it.  It's the reason I started this stinkin' blog anyway, to write about whatever it is that is bouncing around in my skull.  Maybe it's Winter, just being cranky locked indoors.  Maybe it's because I become neurotic when MrNV leaves town, he just returned today.  Who knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm slightly upset with my sister, she went out to eat with my dad and brother today.  They went to lunch.  She, again, didn't invite me.  Even got an email from my brother this morning that they were going, he needed some information from me.  But no, "Hey, come along!".  I'm really not a miserable bitch to be around.  Not sure why I'm always getting shafted.  My dad did call this morning, I missed it because I forgot my cell.  So, he's safe :)  He also brought me a box of pastries (a bit shaken, but still great!), so he's set for the year.  Maybe he appreciates that his youngest kid and biggest mistake is actually the one that has invited him to move in.  None of my other shitastic siblings that have no children.  So.  I'm just disappointed.  But, nothing new.  I couldn't go anyway, so whatever.  Oh, and I was watching a small video from Christmas.  She had one of those paper cracker things, you pull each end with someone else?  And prizes fall out?  So she was doing it with Monkey, and when the prize fell out she took it.  Immediately saying, "For me!"  It was a miniature screwdriver set.  And I noticed his jilted look in the video.  She was all, "Here, let's do this and you'll get a prize..." and immediately took it.  Her husband caught it, and gave him some plastic watch from one of the other's.  It's not the point that he needed it.  It's that it is a kids cracker and the fun of popping it for the prize... it's for freakin' kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my biggest disappointment belongs to a close friend.  You know, there are people in your life that just don't have the best luck.  Or just don't always make the right decisions, or what looks like the right decision turns to shit.  It happens.  I'm sure for years people felt MrNV and I were those people while we tried to get our business started.  However, there is a difference... we depended only on our family in times of need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This particular friend sort of started our downhill slide some time ago.  She used to work for us.  For almost a year or two I didn't hear from her, things were going just peachy.  Then, the calls.  Husband is a douche, life sucks.. no money.  So I offered her work.  She didn't have a car.  So I drove all the way to her home, about 30 minutes.. picked her up and brought her to work.  And would take her home.  Yup.  Never once asked for a penny in gas.. what was the point?  I don't know if she ever made me take any, but I doubt it.  Eventually things worked out and she moved closer to us and could drive herself.  When I offered her the job, it was until she found something better.  But she liked it, and we liked her working for us.  We're a small company, nothing huge.  She got to work at my dad's place, and he would entertain her and feed her at times.  Seemed everything was fine.  We then bought our home and moved the work here.  One day I picked up the phone and she was talking to her husband.  And he asked something along the lines of "How is it going?".. to which she replied something like she is.. as usual.. doing all the work and we're making all the money.  I wanted to scream.  Seriously.  Like we make millions or something.  I can't even begin to tell you what my husband went through to perfect what we do.  It was easy work.  She could work basically whatever hours she wanted, take off whatever days she wanted.  Cable TV.  Wear whatever you want.  Simple.  And she assumed we were making tons, and just mistreating her in the pits.  I blew it off, never said anything.  But it has always bothered me.  I wonder if she understand what it takes to run a business?  Mainly, for her, the money it takes?  All of the product we have to buy.  The taxes we pay.  I'm not even going to get into it here, you get the idea.  But, we were greedy assholes.  Finally she got a different job, they offered benefits and all that.. good.  That was the plan anyway.  .. fast forward ..  A while back her electricity was shut off.. she shows up at my house without any notice, I was talking with my dad in the office.  Drama drama.. wanted to use my phone and went downstairs.  When she came up she went on about how it was shut off, and she needed $300 something to get it reconnected.  I've given her money in the past.  I wasn't in the mood to just cough it up.  So I offered her $100, told her she could just work some odd hours here and there to pay me back.  Fine.  But then she told me her boyfriend's parents had sent them a $200 check, she would sign it over to me if I would give her the $200 cash.  I figured, OK.  She didn't have it on her... so she was going to get it to me later.  I told her whenever, the weather wasn't too great.  She then went on about how she had no gas, so I just gave her $328 so that hopefully she would honestly just go and handle the situation.  Of course a couple weeks went by, excuses.  I sent her an email that MrNV was getting mad at ME because she wasn't paying me the $200.. and she told me she didn't have it.  Additional excuses.. I wasn't getting it.  Whatever.  But fast forward to this week, because I'm at my final straw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father is diabetic.  He's also retired, on social security.  He has one of those plans where he gets his meds cheaper than most.  However, for part of the year he pays full price, then later he gets them cheap.  However that works out.  He told friend's boyfriend ONCE that he could give him a few vials .. because he needed it as he had no insurance.  Free.  Normally $80 per vial.  So she called me on Sunday,&lt;br /&gt;"Is your dad there?"&lt;br /&gt;"No?  He's coming over after the game, why?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, we're going to come over to pick up the stuff."&lt;br /&gt;"Stuff?  What stuff?"&lt;br /&gt;"Your dad is giving us 2 vials of his medication."&lt;br /&gt;....pause...&lt;br /&gt;"You already asked him?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I talked to him.  I'm giving him $25 for it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called my dad after I got off the phone. &lt;br /&gt;"She called you and asked you for your medications AGAIN??"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh.... yeah.  She called me yesterday."&lt;br /&gt;"YESTERDAY?  Dad, I am SO sorry that MY friends are calling YOU and asking for favors!  That is so out of control!"&lt;br /&gt;"It's OK.  I'm a big boy.  I can say no."&lt;br /&gt;"No you can't, I know how you are.  And it was out of line.  I am so sorry!  Is she paying you??"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes."&lt;br /&gt;"TODAY??"&lt;br /&gt;"No.  Friday."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, dad.  So now she owes you too?"&lt;br /&gt;"It's OK.  They can work it off if they don't have the money."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, THAT isn't the point.  How do you think she would feel if I called HER dad and asked HIM for money or favors?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah.  Well."&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry dad.  I'll see you when you get here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was my day.  My dad wasn't upset, but I'm pissed.  I didn't even know what to say to her when she arrived.  We chatted.  But, of course... as usual.. she had to 'run to the grocery store'.  She never hangs out any longer than she has to.  She told me she plans to pay me $25 per week until she has paid me back, but we'll see.  That isn't even what has me pissed.  It's enough that MrNV is annoyed with me for loaning her money.. more than once.  But now if she doesn't pay my dad, it is going to be MY friend that didn't pay.  Which I know he isn't going to even mention to me, but I just feel bad now that it's an issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm angry.  She will probably read my blog, and will find out.  Or not.  I don't care anymore.  I'm getting old and my patience with people is just so quickly fizzling out.  There is such a long history, and I'm bored with it.  You just don't call the elderly parents of your friends and ask them favors.  It's wrong.  I tell you what though, she will know for certain that I'm pissed if she doesn't pay my dad this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-77166068096784424?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/77166068096784424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/77166068096784424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/exhale.html' title='Exhale...'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5bo0qj-xcI/AAAAAAAAA60/G-SLchZIsiY/s72-c/pastries.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2473053997600539663</id><published>2008-01-20T16:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:49.288-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tormenting the k-neighbor :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5PYH7g25gI/AAAAAAAAA6k/GmPZLdkOKOY/s1600-h/Squirrel_Valentines1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5PYH7g25gI/AAAAAAAAA6k/GmPZLdkOKOY/s320/Squirrel_Valentines1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157703629015541250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5PYILg25hI/AAAAAAAAA6s/ag7-Vatck6o/s1600-h/Squirrel_Valentines2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5PYILg25hI/AAAAAAAAA6s/ag7-Vatck6o/s320/Squirrel_Valentines2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157703633310508562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I have mentioned before, I have a neighbor ... I refer to him as Squirrel Killer.  Haven't noticed him shooting squirrels lately, but it's cold.  As he only ever wears a white undershirt and shorts.. I assume it's just too cold for him to be outside playing with this gun.  But I bought these two cards a week ago, and have been chuckling since :)  They are Valentine's Day cards.  I love the one where he is holding the rose, it's just so doggone cute!  That one says 'I'm just nuts about you!' inside.  And the other has a candy heart that says 'Love You'.  Bwahaha.  I thought I would sign it 'The Squirrels'.... any better ideas?  I'll probably send them about a week apart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2473053997600539663?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2473053997600539663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2473053997600539663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/tormenting-k-neighbor.html' title='Tormenting the k-neighbor :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R5PYH7g25gI/AAAAAAAAA6k/GmPZLdkOKOY/s72-c/Squirrel_Valentines1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2242210102465472841</id><published>2008-01-17T12:47:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:49.461-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ocean Men:  Extreme Dive</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4-m3bg25fI/AAAAAAAAA6c/pQL4kLciUNY/s1600-h/Pelizzari.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156523569571096050" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4-m3bg25fI/AAAAAAAAA6c/pQL4kLciUNY/s320/Pelizzari.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wowie! So my new love is my new Sony, and I have discovered MOJOtv in HDTV. Wow. This channel is the most amazing, I can't watch anything else :) I used to turn the TV on just for background noise while I work :) Pfft :) I just wanna lick the screen now, it's so clear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I just watched this show about freediving. One of the divers in the show was just amazingly beautiful. You know, too pretty and perfect that you just want to watch from afar and appreciate. Wow! His name is Umberto Pelizzari. You can visit his website &lt;a href="http://www.umbertopelizzari.com/profilo-en/index-profilo-en.asp"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;. The film they created is just amazing, and the amount of time he can spend under water with just one breath is mind boggling. At one point he popped out of some rocks, and dolphins appeared! It was so beautiful. If you get the chance, you should really watch this documentary. It was really beautiful. In another scene they showed him standing on the 60th floor of a building, and that this was how far down he has to swim... and then back up.  He doesn't use a cable to go down or balloon back up like other divers.  QUITE trippy :)  I personally could never do it, I have a fear of deep water.  Oh.. and I'm too buoyant.. bwahahah!  It would take me 45 minutes and every ounce of energy I have just to get down 3 feet.. aaahahahahh!!  Ehem.&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/19869912-2242210102465472841?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2242210102465472841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2242210102465472841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/ocean-men-extreme-dive.html' title='Ocean Men:  Extreme Dive'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4-m3bg25fI/AAAAAAAAA6c/pQL4kLciUNY/s72-c/Pelizzari.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7939082362624779417</id><published>2008-01-16T08:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T08:45:44.105-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Terrible 2's my ass.</title><content type='html'>Where did my sweet little kid go?  Man.  For the last five days I've been trying to help him with some stupid assignment due today.  Super easy, write a stupid letter to your teacher talking about Christmas Break and what all went on.  No big deal.  At all.  Every evening we sit and go over the rought draft, he's good for about 20 minutes then he starts blocking me out.  Rolling his eyes at me.  Throwing a tantrum.  I'm borderline psychotic at this point.  It was due today and it isn't finished.  He did the rough draft.   Short of writing it for him, it was done.  Lastnight he was a complete madman, so I sent him to bed at 7:00.  My entire night ruined, because I just hate arguing.  Makes me insane.  So I woke him up early this morning, giving him an extra hour to get ready so that he could take the time to finish what he wrote.  Nope.  He was in a perfect mood up until that moment.. then insanity.  So I'm done.  He's just going to have to take an incomplete, because I've had it.  I'm not going to sit here and cry anymore because my kid is driving me to the point I want to beat him senseless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was calm. Explained it all rationally and just let him do his thing.  Simply copy his rough draft.. he couldn't do it.  So, whatever.  Don't lecture me on how to raise my child or what a bad job I'm doing.  I'm just venting.  Today is not the day for lectures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7939082362624779417?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7939082362624779417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7939082362624779417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/terrible-2s-my-ass.html' title='Terrible 2&apos;s my ass.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3178840448415739640</id><published>2008-01-15T13:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T13:57:34.312-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy cow.</title><content type='html'>I am SO getting a shirt that says I'm a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;'SPECTATOR'&lt;/span&gt;!  What does he mean when he says, "You're either in.. or you're out!"  Seriously?  That's concerning.  He wants to, "...get them outta there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To view Mr.CrazyCruise, please click &lt;a href="http://defamer.com/344987/the-tom-cruise-indoctrination-video-scientologists-dont-want-you-to-see?autoplay=true"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.  Holy cow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, and I checked out &lt;a href="http://www.xenu.net/archive/L-Rundowns/"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; page.  ..giggle..  The tests they go through.  L10 2D List1 is my favorite, I think I've been &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;implanted with sexual pictures&lt;/span&gt; :)  Bwahaha... WHAT??  And no, my parents didn't love me.  Gosh, maybe this cult IS for me??  On another sheet it even asks if you have dismembered someone, or seen someone dismembered?  WHAT??  Call 911 man!  Bwahaha, I can't stop reading.  Some of my other favorite questions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;129. Has anyone cast a spell over you?&lt;br /&gt;141. Do you like flowers? - this comes in at the bottom of a whole list of psychotic questions.&lt;br /&gt;44.  Did anyone run a can't have on you?   - A what??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L10 Omissions is where they get the detailed questions.  You know, stuff they can blackmail you with :)  I wish I were a fly... I wish I were a fly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am totally going to send this questionnaire out as a meme :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3178840448415739640?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3178840448415739640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3178840448415739640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/holy-cow.html' title='Holy cow.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5019773001485723955</id><published>2008-01-14T11:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:49.652-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm watching you..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4ubP7g25eI/AAAAAAAAA6U/zkZZG00h1c8/s1600-h/creepy2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155384896431515106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4ubP7g25eI/AAAAAAAAA6U/zkZZG00h1c8/s320/creepy2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yeah, I was goofing around with my macro. I found some cool photos on Flickr that people had taken of their eyes, and wanted to give it a whirl. I gaussed it a bit to get red of all the REDDD. Just wanted to see the colors. Ever since I was a kid I had fun looking in the mirror up close.. opening and closing my eye. Watching the colors burst and shrink over and over :) Simple minds are easily amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I get my new free TV. Yes, free :) Because there are perks in being a brass pole inspector, other than free lap dances. So MrNV allowed me to put it in the office :) It is a 40" flatscreen Sony Bravia. And I am in love. We have HDTV in the living room, but not a nifty flatscreen :) And I believe it's only 32" or 38" or something. So I upgraded my cable box in here, and adore the HDTV channels! I want MORE! I can't even watch the normal channels now.. eew! And it has that recording thingy so I can record shows I miss. And it remembers... so that after I remember what I forgot.. it's in the little list box so I can watch it! YES! I only record Conan actually, because I really like him and he's always on after I go to bed. Cuz I'm old. And senile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The family did great at Christmas. I actually saw my bitch sister that I haven't talked to much for the last few years. Now she's calling and sending me emails like we're friends again. Yes, I ignore them :) Then I pull out the 6 page letter again she cc'd to the entire family on what assholes we are. Me: the cold hearted bitch. I'll have to post the letter someday, it's actually sort of amusing. My dad went straight to his lawyer with a copy of the letter. So, when he passes away it will be tragic.. yet fun :) I sure hope there is a video! I'll put it on Youtube for y'all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking of, still working on getting him moved in. I had hoped to get him here by December, didn't pan out. I empty out the room to get ready, and MrNV puts more shit back into it. It's like the black hole of stuff. It's gonna suck for Dad when he's in there, cuz he'll vanish under all the useless things we accumulate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I'm allergic to peanuts. Or, peanits as MrNV calls them. Thank God it's not chocolate! But my 'allergies' have been doing good, but kicking in off an on. Yesterday I bought a jar of dry roasted peanuts and munched on them lastnight. I was hacking up a lung by the time I went to bed. Wheezing for hours. And smart child says, "You're allergic to nuts, mom.". Wuhhh? And of course, today I feel fine. I've always loved nuts, they're the perfect snack food. And I think MrNV has mentioned I'm possibly allergic before. But I didn't think about it so much before. Or maybe I knew and keep forgetting?!?! Over the holidays I was munching on them too.. and would randomly have bad 'allergy' attacks and would curse the outdoors. Might not be it at all! I tell ya... your body sure falls apart as you get older.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;OH! And I took Monkey to Cracker Barrel lastnight for dinner. They had a stand of Valentine's cards, and I found the PERFECT card to send to my neighbor Mr. Squirrel Killer! Bwahhaha! I will scan it and post it later. There are 2 actually. I'm going to send them as being 'From The Squirrels'. Bwahahaha! Maybe I should put 'The Woods' as the return address? I'll post the info later and y'all can give me smartass ideas :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;XOXOXO&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5019773001485723955?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5019773001485723955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5019773001485723955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-watching-you.html' title='I&apos;m watching you..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4ubP7g25eI/AAAAAAAAA6U/zkZZG00h1c8/s72-c/creepy2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-395939484361440599</id><published>2008-01-13T11:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:50.067-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year Bitches!!! XOXOXO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4pRN7g25dI/AAAAAAAAA6M/NH8Yh6JO0vs/s1600-h/YellaAndMonkey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 167px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4pRN7g25dI/AAAAAAAAA6M/NH8Yh6JO0vs/s320/YellaAndMonkey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155022023234610642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4pRDbg25cI/AAAAAAAAA6E/xSwByBKZ6iA/s1600-h/Shack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 165px; height: 167px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4pRDbg25cI/AAAAAAAAA6E/xSwByBKZ6iA/s320/Shack.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155021842845984194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry I am a bad blogger.  I'm the biggest slacker in the world.  It sucks for me too, cuz when I'm browsing my blog next year I won't know what I was doing around Christmas :)   Suffering most likely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MrNV is in Vegas again, so I'll find some time this week.  Should I be concerned that this weekend was the &lt;a href="http://www.avnawards.com/"&gt;AVN awards&lt;/a&gt;?!??!  I bet those brass poles were busy this weekend!!!  Wheeeee!  Maybe he'll get overtime :)  He said you can definitely tell the porn stars from the regular hookers in the casinos :)  Bwahahaha.  I need to shorten that leash :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it also strange that I keep playing 'The Humpty Dance' over and over .. and over... and over.... I need help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Won the 'ultimate poker player' trophy in Puzzle Pirates :)  I'm working hard to master the whole Texas Holdem' thingy by the Kentucky Derby party this year.  I want to take everyone's money!!!!  Monkey wanted me to upload some photos of us in Puzzle Pirates.  I don't know how to screen freeze, so you git what ya git :)  Our shack is pretty sad :)  But we're matchy-matchy :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XOXOXOXOX&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-395939484361440599?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/395939484361440599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/395939484361440599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year-bitches-xoxoxo.html' title='Happy New Year Bitches!!! XOXOXO'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R4pRN7g25dI/AAAAAAAAA6M/NH8Yh6JO0vs/s72-c/YellaAndMonkey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5151389914574680367</id><published>2007-12-22T11:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:50.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'>From Les Monkey...</title><content type='html'>Monkey Boy did this at school, and wanted me to post it to the blog to see if anyone can guess all of the Christmas  songs in the image.  No cheating!  Santa is watching!! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R21KyLg25aI/AAAAAAAAA50/sN3Itik0Udk/s1600-h/ChristmasGame.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R21KyLg25aI/AAAAAAAAA50/sN3Itik0Udk/s320/ChristmasGame.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146852175098865058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5151389914574680367?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5151389914574680367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5151389914574680367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/from-les-monkey.html' title='From Les Monkey...'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R21KyLg25aI/AAAAAAAAA50/sN3Itik0Udk/s72-c/ChristmasGame.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1594699085230723153</id><published>2007-12-19T20:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T20:12:57.240-06:00</updated><title type='text'>...giggle..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/fgesm_NbNJg' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/fgesm_NbNJg'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I saw this on Talk Soup the other day.  Someone uploaded it to Youtube.  It's not very good quality, but keracks me up!!  I know, because my mind is in the gutter.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1594699085230723153?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1594699085230723153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1594699085230723153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/giggle.html' title='...giggle..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2631393536616038753</id><published>2007-12-14T13:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T14:00:39.042-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Meteor Shower</title><content type='html'>If you're not going to have kerappy snowing clouds like we are tonight, then you might want to check out the Meteor shower.  Dress warm, as it won't rock-n-roll until really late!  I remember a few years ago we took the Monkey and all went to a field and sprawled out on the ground.  It was FREEZING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Details &lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,316754,00.html"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2631393536616038753?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2631393536616038753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2631393536616038753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/meteor-shower.html' title='Meteor Shower'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5627403129159769689</id><published>2007-12-06T22:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T22:49:06.959-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad.. but...</title><content type='html'>I know, it's a bad thing that he is the way he is... but he's just so doggone cute!  I just wanna pinch him!  And pinch him... and pinch him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/worldnews.html?in_article_id=499925&amp;amp;in_page_id=1811&amp;amp;ito=1490"&gt;*click here for the story*&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5627403129159769689?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5627403129159769689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5627403129159769689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/bad-but.html' title='Bad.. but...'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1195482180351177916</id><published>2007-12-05T11:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T11:16:36.514-06:00</updated><title type='text'>LOLOLlolol</title><content type='html'>OK, so I am watching 'The View' today.  Because I need the abuse.  I guess yesterday this conversation went on where the new girl Sherri Shepherd argued that Jesus came before the Romans and Greeks.  Egads.  So today Babawawa is pimping her show 'Most Interesting People'.. and Sherri asked, "Why not Britney Spears?  She's interesting?"  and Babawaawwaa said, "Well, we try to interview people that do positive things.".. and Sherri just sparked back, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"What did POSH do??"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bababwwaaha totally ignored her, and now she's sitting there like a disgruntled 8 year old.  And I have one of those, I know the look.  SO FUNNY!  She is SO going to get the lecture, and she knows it.  One of those, "Wait until I get you home.." looks.  BWAHAHAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I actually like the new girl.  She seems humble and silly and she is the only one that makes me chuckle.  And Whoopi is fine, she's 150% better than Rosie.  She may not agree with everyone else's opinion, but she will stop an argument (aka Joy ranting and shooting her mouth off) so that they can get their point in.  I like that, it's what I asked for all along.  Babawa I like just because she is such a Diva, and I wish I could be a fly on the wall of her office.   I just love catching those cutting looks she gives the others when they catch her in a lie. AHAHHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We like to interview people that do positive things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;"WHAT DID POSH DO??"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BWAHAHAHAHAHAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Sherri :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1195482180351177916?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1195482180351177916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1195482180351177916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/lolollolol.html' title='LOLOLlolol'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-6672443003168438840</id><published>2007-12-03T10:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:50.656-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On a happier note.</title><content type='html'>I know why my dreams are getting to me.  I have things going on which annoy me, but can't blog about.  I hate to sound like a wanker-whiner :)  And Christmas is coming up, which is complete ass.  I'm tired of trying to think of Christmas presents for my family.. most of whom I don't even like.  Last year they got front row seats to Cirque du Soleil.. this year they'll be lucky if they get a swift kick in the ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, my mother did do a magnificent thing and made us the annual gingerbread house.  Last year she was in the UK taking care of nana, so she wasn't able to.  It's the biggest she has made us so far!  Holy cow!  It's gigantor!  And she even made a 2nd one for Monkey's class.  He was very excited to take it in today.  Most likely we're violating some school policy and they will burn it on the front lawn.  But it's the thought that counts.  And I made my neighbor girly buddy a journal for her birthday.. she turned 13 yesterday :)  Happy Belated Birthday MissA!!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3J8083iI/AAAAAAAAA5c/npFcilFkRnM/s1600-R/Gingerbread1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3J8083iI/AAAAAAAAA5c/K4yj4ttKuyY/s320/Gingerbread1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139793718823149090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3Ks083jI/AAAAAAAAA5k/Y7DiCixABj0/s1600-R/Gingerbread2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3Ks083jI/AAAAAAAAA5k/tqwF7eycRbM/s320/Gingerbread2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139793731708050994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3Lc083kI/AAAAAAAAA5s/NuyLU4qKhfU/s1600-R/Journal1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3Lc083kI/AAAAAAAAA5s/JWFt8NZJ4AA/s320/Journal1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139793744592952898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-6672443003168438840?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6672443003168438840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6672443003168438840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/on-happier-note.html' title='On a happier note.'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1Q3J8083iI/AAAAAAAAA5c/K4yj4ttKuyY/s72-c/Gingerbread1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7072658787721819645</id><published>2007-12-03T10:07:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T10:07:42.769-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pfft</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/TspcitveGS4' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/TspcitveGS4'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today I received another comment on Monkey's video.. and I realized it has been viewed 6,348 times :)  Kerazy :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7072658787721819645?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7072658787721819645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7072658787721819645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/pfft.html' title='Pfft'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-5136271035167697599</id><published>2007-12-03T09:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T09:24:56.547-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Log</title><content type='html'>Again with the bad dreams. Monkey has a little friend, we'll call her Silly. She and I were driving somewhere for some reason, who knows. She needed to go to the bathroom. It is my policy that, even at 8, the Monkey goes into the ladies room in strange places. I don't care what people think, I'm not taking chances. But in my dream, I let her go into the bathroom alone. I have no idea why.. cuz I'm an idiot in my dreams. She's such a bubbly and cute little kid, and will talk to anyone... stupid idea to let her go alone. I could see from outside the door, the bathroom was huge and seemed to be for both men and women. But still I did not enter. After a while I became concerned that she wasn't coming out, so I went in. It was like an entertainment area. There were other 8 year old girls at the back of the room playing, so I went up to ask if they saw her. "Yes, she was dancing with some man. He had balloons, they were awesome!  They went that way..."...pointing to a BACK door. So I took off out the back door of this bathroom.. and it opened to a park which overlooked the ocean. There were only about 4 homes, they were huge and up on a cliff. So, of course, I started climbing along the cliff to peek over at the houses. As I peeked over the edge of one, I found a pair of feet in my face. There was a man lying on the ground right at the edge, all wrapped in wire. He was dead and puffy, and smelled horrible. Stupid thing is that I wasn't even shocked, just glad it wasn't Silly. A man saw me, but was upset more that I might be seen by the owner of the house than the fact that I saw this dead body. I climbed up onto the deck and started talking with the butler-y guy, and it seemed I knew the owner because when he walked out he wasn't surprised to see me at all. I don't know who he was, I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think tonight I just won't go to bed. I'm tired of the anxiety.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-5136271035167697599?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5136271035167697599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/5136271035167697599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/12/dream-log.html' title='Dream Log'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-107721358303724203</id><published>2007-11-30T22:56:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T23:03:33.846-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Log</title><content type='html'>I haven't thought about the dream much that I had lastnight, because it was bad. One of those when you wake up you feel anxious and freaked out. For some reason MrNV was going to Vegas and I was going along. Also my sister, and some 3rd person but I don't know who they were. To save money on the cost of the flight, he was going to put us each in a wooden box and ship us. ?? I just couldn't understand why he was going to do that and he wouldn't explain. I kept telling him that we could just pay for the airfare... nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boxes were more like caskets really. But not nice ones. They made them to size, so there was no room for movement once you were in them. There were sharp edges and nails sticking out. My sister kept explaining over and over and over that the trip was 9 hours and that we wouldn't be able to move for that entire time. No bathroom, no water, no food... arms stuck at your side. And no pillow. I kept thinking to myself, "At least can't I have a pillow?".  And we weren't even flying, but MrNV and his Uncle were driving a moving truck.. and our 3 boxes were in the back.  WHAT was the point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember waking up short of breath and really pissed at MrNV. I think he apologized, but he's still not forgiven :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-107721358303724203?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/107721358303724203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/107721358303724203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/dream-log.html' title='Dream Log'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-4109168830148007860</id><published>2007-11-30T16:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:50.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>RIP</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1CNNs083hI/AAAAAAAAA5U/GbAWWxqB5Uo/s1600-R/evelsi1171150722.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1CNNs083hI/AAAAAAAAA5U/CYZf2NpSqr8/s320/evelsi1171150722.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138762441340804626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember our family watching Mr. Evel Knievel and his daring stunts :)  He rocked.  He died today at the age of 69.  Much sadness.  Imagine the stunts he will take on in Heaven!  Woo-hoo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-4109168830148007860?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4109168830148007860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/4109168830148007860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/rip.html' title='RIP'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R1CNNs083hI/AAAAAAAAA5U/CYZf2NpSqr8/s72-c/evelsi1171150722.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-7343194310442193215</id><published>2007-11-26T14:25:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T14:26:10.285-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cuteness :)</title><content type='html'>Sirdar posted this really cute story.  At first I thought he was serious.. but that's only because I'm mentally challenged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click &lt;a href="http://sirdar.wordpress.com/2007/11/24/bear-attack/"&gt;HERE &lt;/a&gt;for adorable :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-7343194310442193215?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7343194310442193215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/7343194310442193215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/cuteness.html' title='Cuteness :)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-8664544068187855700</id><published>2007-11-24T12:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T12:29:20.529-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pink Floyd - The Great Gig in the Sky (1988)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/Enwnt7-j90k' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/Enwnt7-j90k'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;OK.  Even better version.  I have goosebumps now :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-8664544068187855700?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8664544068187855700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/8664544068187855700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/pink-floyd-great-gig-in-sky-1988.html' title='Pink Floyd - The Great Gig in the Sky (1988)'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-3172708253995851784</id><published>2007-11-24T12:24:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T12:24:03.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The great gig in the sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/e10aKSV5aaU' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/e10aKSV5aaU'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;One of my favorite things in the world.  We got to see Pink Floyd in concert, the last one at Arrowhead Stadium.  We were center in VIP seating, with our own restroom!  One of my favorite memories ever.. and I love this song.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-3172708253995851784?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3172708253995851784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/3172708253995851784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/great-gig-in-sky.html' title='The great gig in the sky'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-1799150037119172668</id><published>2007-11-20T11:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T11:27:45.382-06:00</updated><title type='text'>LOL</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/2K0OS4gCpos' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/2K0OS4gCpos'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;OK, this movie preview is not suitable for the kiddies.  But seriously, who comes up with stuff like this????  AHAHAHAHAHAHH!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-1799150037119172668?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1799150037119172668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/1799150037119172668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/lol.html' title='LOL'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-6202596841450823431</id><published>2007-11-19T15:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:51.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pleeeease....Don't Squeeze the Charmin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R0H9d56qTGI/AAAAAAAAA5M/189XymaXc98/s1600-h/charmin.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R0H9d56qTGI/AAAAAAAAA5M/189XymaXc98/s200/charmin.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134663740383972450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly Mr. Whipple died today.  He was 91.  ..sigh..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-6202596841450823431?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6202596841450823431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6202596841450823431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/pleeeeasedont-squeeze-charmin.html' title='Pleeeease....Don&apos;t Squeeze the Charmin'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R0H9d56qTGI/AAAAAAAAA5M/189XymaXc98/s72-c/charmin.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-2005194822455039846</id><published>2007-11-14T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:44:55.465-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Download</title><content type='html'>I had some photos to upload. Things I've been taking pictures of but I haven't had time to blog.. so here's a bit of a catch-up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Halloween&lt;br /&gt;-My bad angled typical Myspace stupid photo.. but whatever.. from Halloween. Love the horns :) They are hair clips, and so easy to put in. Versus those ones with strings.  I thought I put a lot of make-up on, but GirlNextDoor thought I should wear more make-up more often :)  I buried her in the yard.  The sun was bright in that photo, so you can't really tell.  Yes, I only had one tattoo.  I ruined the other one by putting it on backwards.  Shut up.&lt;br /&gt;-Stuff we picked from the garden before the frost killed em'. My mother wanted the green tomatoes. Not sure what she did with them. And I have no idea what the huge green thing is.&lt;br /&gt;-Birthday cake my brother and sister made for mumsie.  I took her to a haunted house.. isn't that what all kids do?  Ask her next year what she remembers from her last birthday.. and it will be the haunted house :)  You know, with the elderly you have to shock memories into them or they forget ;)&lt;br /&gt;-Cake, with candy corn, my mother made for us. Dots on the cake represent the cat hairs.. just the ones noticeable in the photo. As usual, we didn't eat it.&lt;br /&gt;-My demon dogs greeting me :)&lt;br /&gt;And that's about it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was MrNV's birthday Saturday, but he went to Las Vegas. I know, work. Sure. Whatever. I think that even brass pole inspectors should get days off now and then. But he's 41 now. BWAHAHH! Yes, I know, I turn 40 in February. Don't remind me or I will have you killed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no, I can't get the photos to line up properly.  Sorry.  The only thing I hate MUCH about blogger is how jacked up photos become when you upload them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzsppFnnpII/AAAAAAAAA4U/LCDX7tL3_eE/s1600-h/103107_112.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzsppFnnpII/AAAAAAAAA4U/LCDX7tL3_eE/s200/103107_112.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741986178540674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspqVnnpKI/AAAAAAAAA4k/gZicKsmudpI/s1600-h/103107_084.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspqVnnpKI/AAAAAAAAA4k/gZicKsmudpI/s200/103107_084.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132742007653377186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Rzspq1nnpLI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Tqn80ZAWJFg/s1600-h/103107_068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Rzspq1nnpLI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Tqn80ZAWJFg/s200/103107_068.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132742016243311794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzsprVnnpMI/AAAAAAAAA40/9AzVat5rpkA/s1600-h/103107_061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzsprVnnpMI/AAAAAAAAA40/9AzVat5rpkA/s200/103107_061.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132742024833246402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspIFnnpDI/AAAAAAAAA3s/O-DyjwYhM-U/s1600-h/mom+birthday+cake+2007+039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspIFnnpDI/AAAAAAAAA3s/O-DyjwYhM-U/s200/mom+birthday+cake+2007+039.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741419242857522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspJlnnpFI/AAAAAAAAA38/bELU7HH8hns/s1600-h/103107b_064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspJlnnpFI/AAAAAAAAA38/bELU7HH8hns/s200/103107b_064.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741445012661330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspI1nnpEI/AAAAAAAAA30/l-KW7GVTe8c/s1600-h/Horns.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspI1nnpEI/AAAAAAAAA30/l-KW7GVTe8c/s200/Horns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741432127759426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Rzsp3FnnpOI/AAAAAAAAA5E/dA1OGb8P58U/s1600-h/100807_020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Rzsp3FnnpOI/AAAAAAAAA5E/dA1OGb8P58U/s200/100807_020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132742226696709346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspK1nnpHI/AAAAAAAAA4M/6cK59z7QISw/s1600-h/103107b_051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspK1nnpHI/AAAAAAAAA4M/6cK59z7QISw/s200/103107b_051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741466487497842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspJ1nnpGI/AAAAAAAAA4E/ReKXHKrvP4I/s1600-h/103107b_054.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzspJ1nnpGI/AAAAAAAAA4E/ReKXHKrvP4I/s200/103107b_054.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741449307628642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Rzspp1nnpJI/AAAAAAAAA4c/T441tosLAZA/s1600-h/103107_088.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/Rzspp1nnpJI/AAAAAAAAA4c/T441tosLAZA/s200/103107_088.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132741999063442578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-2005194822455039846?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2005194822455039846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/2005194822455039846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/download.html' title='Download'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/RzsppFnnpII/AAAAAAAAA4U/LCDX7tL3_eE/s72-c/103107_112.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19869912.post-6180634602320587622</id><published>2007-11-13T23:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T23:04:08.377-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bustin' a tune..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/rU3UVpm1-nw' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/rU3UVpm1-nw'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm sad that uploading this vide turned it to crap.. as far as video quality.  I need to figure out how to host my own videos.. cuz it's now a bunch-o-blurry kids singing Hot Cross Buns :)  But Monkey is rockin' the xylophone...yo!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19869912-6180634602320587622?l=naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6180634602320587622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19869912/posts/default/6180634602320587622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naughtyvoyeur.blogspot.com/2007/11/bustin-tune.html' title='Bustin&amp;#39; a tune..'/><author><name>Not-So-Naughty Voyeur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07636865836178937565</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7-9RiwBbTQ/R54LfKj-xeI/AAAAAAAAA7A/8FVKngk6hdg/S220/MonkeyOnMyBack.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
