tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30411041925041662462024-03-16T03:07:52.334-04:00Say Whaaaat?popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-86274919408346062192011-09-27T22:09:00.000-04:002011-09-27T22:09:08.485-04:00Dear blank, please blank<div class="largesubtextdear"> Dear Noah, </div><div class="largesubtextdear"> </div><div class="largesubtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving till 5. </div></div><div class="largesubtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div><div class="largesubmittedby"> Sincerely, Unicorns</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">*** </div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby"><div class="subtextdear"> Dear Twilight fans, </div><div class="subtextdear"><br />
</div><div class="subtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> Please realize that because vampires are dead and have no blood pumping through them, they can never get an erection. Enjoy fantasizing about that. </div></div><div class="subtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div>Sincerely, Logic</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">**** </div><div class="largesubmittedby"> <div class="subtextdear"> Dear icebergs, </div><div class="subtextdear"> </div><div class="subtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> Sorry to hear about the global warming. Enjoy the Karma... </div></div><div class="subtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div>Sincerely, the Titanic. </div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> <div class="subtextdear"> Dear Students, </div><div class="subtextdear"> </div><div class="subtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> I know when you're texting. </div></div><div class="subtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div>Sincerely, No one just looks down at their crotch and smiles</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby"> <div class="subtextdear"> Dear America, </div><div class="subtextdear"> </div><div class="subtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> You produced Miley Cyrus. Bieber is your punishment. </div></div><div class="subtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div>Sincerely, Canada</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> <div class="subtextdear"> Dear 6, </div><div class="subtextdear"> </div><div class="subtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> Please stop spreading rumors about me eating 9. You shouldn't be talking. I hear you guys do some pretty nasty things. </div></div><div class="subtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div>Sincerely, 7</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby"> Dear Nickelback,<div class="subtextdear"> </div><div class="subtextdear"> </div><div class="subtextplease"> <div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> That's enough. </div></div><div class="subtextplease"><div style="display: inline-block; text-align: left;"> </div></div>Sincerely, the world.</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> Dear Yahoo,</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">I've never heard anyone say, "I don't know, let's Yahoo! it..." just saying...</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">Sincerely, </div><div class="largesubmittedby">Google</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">Dear Ugly People,</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">You're welcome.</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">Sincerely, </div><div class="largesubmittedby">Alcohol</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby">***</div><div class="largesubmittedby"><br />
</div><div class="largesubmittedby"> </div>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-11416071454754705502011-08-21T21:42:00.002-04:002011-08-21T21:42:22.547-04:00Work it El<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TO64C86kYgA" width="560"></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-3228386167296850062011-08-03T07:50:00.001-04:002011-08-03T07:50:57.726-04:00Breaking Up With Sunday FundayBreaking Up With Sunday Funday Jul. 24, 2011 By Stephanie Georgopulos <br />
<br />
Stephanie Georgopulos is/was/forever will be from Brooklyn, NY. Read more »<br />
<br />
My dearest,<br />
<br />
Hi. I know you’re catching on, and reasonably so. I’ve only been saying it all week. I’ve been whispering it to our mutual friends. That I didn’t want to see you, that I’d avoid you at all costs. I know you can tell I’m growing distant, and it’s not fair to you – not with our history. I’m just going to say it. I can’t keep pretending that this is a healthy relationship. In fact, it might be killing me – and I mean that quite literally. My doctor has expressed some concerns. What I’m saying is… I need some space from you. We need to take a break.<br />
Things started out great, you know? You know. I’d wake up from another unspeakably bizarre Saturday night and there you were – awaiting me with open arms. We’d set out into the day together, get brunch – a rossini here, a bellini there… a few mimosas at that cheap place on Grand Street… a bottle of champagne at someone’s house… fried chicken, o’, the fried chicken. Was there anything we couldn’t do together, Sunday Funday? In my heart, I’m sure – we could do it all.<br />
<br />
But you went and changed on me. Things got… dark. Remember Sunday Bloody Sunday? Your cheeks are probably full of color, hearing me refer to you like that. I hate calling you that name, but you earned it. You plied me with picklebacks that day. Hours later, I found myself in a school bus buying illegal substances from a man named Fire. I consorted with a man named Fire under your watch. Even that, I could’ve dealt with. But when I came home and ate the assorted Chinese food leftovers that my roommates left out in the living room? The scraps? That’s when you crossed the line.<br />
<br />
<br />
Not to mention, my mom doesn’t like you. And she likes everyone. I started lying to her when she’d call, pretending that we weren’t together, Sundays used to be her day, you know? She likes to call and shoot the shit on Sundays; it’s a mom thing. But every time I answered the phone, pretending to be at the park reading a book, she knew. She could hear it in my voice. “Steph, are you… but… it’s Sunday! I thought… won’t you outgrow this soon? This is toxic,” she’d say. YOU. YOU ARE TOXIC.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I remember the good times, babe. Don’t think I don’t. I remember the concerts we went to last summer, I remember the lawn chairs and the taco trucks and the Moscow Mules. I remember drunkenly buying books from street vendors, and the time I bought that Beatles album with the typo on the cover? That was so exciting! We ran to the ATM, threw our surcharge cautions to the wind. “Fuck ATM fees, THE BEATLES!” We said. Never mind the fact that I don’t own a record player, right?<br />
<br />
<br />
That’s your problem. You’re too fun and fancy-free. It’s all shits and giggles until Monday, when I have to get up and go to work and you’re nowhere to be found. Not so ride-or-die come Monday morning, are you? You just leave me to fend for myself, sometimes with an unbearable headache. I know you care about me… at least I think you do, but you kind of only come around once a week, make me spend unseemly amounts of money, and embarrass me in front of my friends. This relationship is not conducive to who I like to pretend to be – a mature adult with morals.<br />
<br />
You know I love you. Sometimes, I live my entire week just to see you. My heart pitter-patters when I imagine what you have in store for me. But I can’t do this anymore. You have every right to be upset with me. I want you to know that I never led you on. I was with you because I chose to be, it was what I wanted. Maybe someday we can reevaluate our relationship, work on things. Become a better Us. I’d totally be down for a kind of No Strings Attached scenario as well. Just in the meantime.<br />
<br />
We can still like, mess around occasionally, right?<br />
<br />
<br />
I’ll like you forever; I’ll love you for always,<br />
Stephpopprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-58044502192684697322011-06-19T21:45:00.000-04:002011-06-19T21:45:00.323-04:00Overheard on Nantucket<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oxIAU22yji8/Tf6mCcHCgXI/AAAAAAAACCU/6vVbtltg0Gg/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oxIAU22yji8/Tf6mCcHCgXI/AAAAAAAACCU/6vVbtltg0Gg/s1600/baby.jpg" /></a>Post Figawi, 1PM Ferry. Crying baby, large dog, hungover 20-something.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span id="goog_109849817"></span><span id="goog_109849818"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><br />
Hungover 20-something: <i>I hope that dog eats that baby.</i>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-60525264113457101212011-05-24T20:39:00.000-04:002011-05-24T20:39:53.591-04:00Wait, what did you guys Google? FYI that's my work computer...<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="340" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TogF_BNdln4" width="545"></iframe><br />
<br />
<iframe width="545" height="340" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9D1nDL45Wsw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-63267064804998662432011-05-23T23:44:00.000-04:002011-05-23T23:44:38.635-04:00Seriously Mom? Pt. 2<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rTy-5SmAnp0/Tdspg_g59fI/AAAAAAAACCM/-W4lQsaqXYU/s1600/logo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rTy-5SmAnp0/Tdspg_g59fI/AAAAAAAACCM/-W4lQsaqXYU/s200/logo1.jpg" width="181" /></a>Lorraine's Mom has a way of cracking me up without even trying to be funny. Her <a href="http://popprincess301.blogspot.com/2011/02/seriously-mom.html">compassion for cell phone commercial characters </a>truly made me LOL, but on top of that she is totally hip to the beat. The lady gchats! And her gchat correspondence with Lorraine from this afternoon just really made my day:</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Susie: YAY BRUINS YAY RED SOX<br />
Lorraine: yayyy great game<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Susie: GO LUCIC</div>Lorraine: didnt watch what was the score<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Susie: ALMOST TIME TO GET YOUR BEAUTY SLEEP. 2-1</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lorraine: how do you feel about the hartford whalers</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Susie: HOWS YOUR ALLERGIES TODAY</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lorraine: brutal</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Susie: MAYBE YOU SHLD CALL THE DR. GET A PRESCRIP</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lorraine: maybe you should hit caps lock so your not typing in all capitals</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Susie: snap. i like caps...it doesn't mean i'm yelling</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lorraine: hahaha. why do you like it</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Susie: they look nicer. it's powerful</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lorraine: sure</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><em>Oh Susie, it does seem like your yelling, but I think caps are powerful too!!</em><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XeJ8FSDtXsM/TdsoGqxJMZI/AAAAAAAACCE/BkihCTZeFzA/s1600/Caps_Lock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XeJ8FSDtXsM/TdsoGqxJMZI/AAAAAAAACCE/BkihCTZeFzA/s400/Caps_Lock.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-66450070033169303412011-05-03T23:17:00.000-04:002011-05-03T23:17:38.014-04:00Virginia? Oh, I spent a year there one weekend - part 2 so much anxiety...<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S4pXkDrhMys/Tb3vyAt5RoI/AAAAAAAACCA/NSGtA6UF16Q/s1600/215571_575584137964_35300404_32983047_2010501_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150px" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S4pXkDrhMys/Tb3vyAt5RoI/AAAAAAAACCA/NSGtA6UF16Q/s200/215571_575584137964_35300404_32983047_2010501_n.jpg" width="200px" /></a>As you know I spent a year in Virginia one weekend quite recently for a softball tournament. Honestly, I think it probably took a few years of ye old life here. I stayed awake for 24 and a quarter hours on the overnight drive from Boston, MA to Charlottesville, VA. @lannonball needed a co-pilot, even if his ears were bleeding after 12 solid hours of popprincess' drivel... </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">Find exhibit A to your right. That's me at 7:30 AM about 20 minutes before my blackberry took a swim in a toilet at a McDonald's....in West Virginia (remind me again why I'm single)?</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">Needless to say, my anxiety levels reached an all-time high on this trip. No, it wasn't because my phone spent 8 hours in a cup of rice, that our hotel room at the Super 8 smelled like an ashtray, that I couldn't catch a pop-fly to save my life, that I got 12 hours of sleep from Thursday to Sunday, or even because our RV broke down at midnight when we were just two short hours away from home after a 3 day bender.</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">It was because I survived an effing tornado.</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">The weather for the Softball tournament was terrible, torrential rain on and off for most of the day. During our second game, while I was killing at catcher (well, 3/5 times the ump threw the ball back to our pitcher for me, but whatevs) the umpire mentions "you know, tornado warnings today". </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://www.corbisimages.com/images/42-15462965.jpg?size=67&uid=3c5f2e36-42f8-4491-a983-e4d75d0021f4&uniqID=580aec94-9dfa-4d6f-8078-2cea540f41ff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.corbisimages.com/images/42-15462965.jpg?size=67&uid=3c5f2e36-42f8-4491-a983-e4d75d0021f4&uniqID=580aec94-9dfa-4d6f-8078-2cea540f41ff" width="205" /></a>Ecu me kind sir? What was that you said? Tornado?</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><i>The Wizard of Oz</i> is my all-time favorite movie but that does not mean I want to reenact the opening scene. I don't want to yell out for Auntie Em and I certainly don't think we're going to end up in Oz if we see funnel clouds storming toward our playing fields. </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">I didn't take the umpire's weather forecast seriously until we heard the loud-ass sirens. That's when full fledged panic set in. There was absolutely nowhere to go. I just kept thinking:</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><i>Are 5 bud lights going to be my last meal? Am I really going to go out like that?</i> </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
I have never had a panic attack, but after googling the symptoms it seems very likely that this is exactly what was happening to me:<br />
<br />
"<i>experiencing a panic attack has been said to be one of the most intensely frightening, upsetting and uncomfortable experiences of a person's life and may take days to initially recover from"</i><br />
<br />
You're damn right wikipedia.com! I was 100% suffering from many of these symptoms:<br />
<ul><li>Sweating</li>
<li>Trembling or shaking</li>
<li>Sensations of shortness of breath or smothering</li>
<li>Nausea </li>
<li>Feeling dizzy, unsteady, lightheaded, or faint</li>
<li>De-realization (feelings of unreality) or depersonalization (being detached from oneself)</li>
<li>Fear of losing control or going insane</li>
<li style="color: red;"><b>Sense of impending death</b></li>
<li>Chills or hot flashes</li>
</ul>While others downed beers and played "Rock You Like a Hurricane" as our natural disaster warning anthem, I continued to grapple with my sense of impending death. <br />
<br />
Truth be told this feeling of panic only lasted about an hour at which point the sun shone through and I fist pumped in celebration. Regardless of the length of my anxiety attack, it truly gave me a whole new outlook on life.<br />
<br />
Moving forward, any anxiety I ever have will be measured at the tornado level in the following order: <br />
<br />
Tornado Anxiety<br />
<a href="http://www.corbisimages.com/images/42-15463330.jpg?size=67&uid=301a67b6-d235-4a9b-ac7e-59f730d6f738&uniqID=ff68b531-0148-4d34-aa34-0b9a4af639c4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.corbisimages.com/images/42-15463330.jpg?size=67&uid=301a67b6-d235-4a9b-ac7e-59f730d6f738&uniqID=ff68b531-0148-4d34-aa34-0b9a4af639c4" width="220" /></a>RV breaking Down Anxiety<br />
General Anxiety<br />
<br />
So anything between General and RV would probably classify as "damn that sucks!" and anything between RV and Tornado are "OMG that is HORRIBLE!!". Anything above tornado...F your L because it involves death (or at least a sense of impending death). <br />
<br />
So there you have it. Presentation to do tomorrow? Not as bad as an RV breakdown. Job interview? Again not as bad. Hot date? Nope, definitely not as scary as an effing tornado.<br />
<br />
There's your new perspective on life. Good luck and lookout for those funnel clouds.<br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
Pop<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="180" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6yP1tcy9a10" width="200"></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-18894705243395104082011-04-26T23:41:00.000-04:002011-04-26T23:41:19.355-04:00A little too much?Love this!<br />
<br />
<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="300" height="199" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9e57dlq7ZA4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-44722349604878682262011-04-25T23:23:00.000-04:002011-04-25T23:23:49.152-04:00Virginia? Oh I spent a year there one weekend - Part 1<div style="border: medium none;">Back in early April, following road race with Moose's grad class, a few of the future grads were discussing an upcoming softball tournament. At 10AM after one sip of beer, I heard the words "road trip" and "RV" in the same sentence and believe you me they had my full and undivided attention. </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/vehicle-pictures/2000/honda/civic/97802031990102-480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133px" i8="true" src="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/vehicle-pictures/2000/honda/civic/97802031990102-480.jpg" width="200px" /></a>Being part of the Road Rules cast has probably been one of my dreams since the "Handsome Reward" was a Honda Civic. </div><br />
So we're all chatting it up and low and behold a few of the gals had to bow out from the trip last minute. I'm thinking: <i>Here I am guys!!! Did you not just see me run the 5k? You should toads obvi bring me!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
Keep in mind, I haven't seriously played softball since the mid-90's, and I'm not a student at BC - but whatevs. Very nonchalantly one of the organizers and Moose said "Oh yah, you should come". <br />
<br />
It is very likely that Moose believed there was an slight chance I would go, and the organizers thought nothing of it. The following day, I thought I should make my casting video secure my spot on what sounded to me like the most kick-ass trip ever. Instead, I decided a cover letter would be the best way to really get to the hearts and souls of these ever-so-serious business students. Below is verbatim, my CL for the trip:<br />
<br />
Dear Mr. Boudreau,<br />
<br />
<br />
I am writing in seeking to fill the position of Honorary BC MBA Groupie at the 19th Annual Darden Softball Invitational. Over the years my athletic career has been filled with vast accomplishments on the playing field. More importantly, my ability to maintain a decorated drinking career that includes countless days and nights of fun while still achieving said accomplishments makes me the perfect candidate for this weekend’s trip (#winning). Assuming that my movie star good looks and sparkling personality aren’t enough to get me a round trip ticket to <i>Road Rules Challenge: MBA Edition</i>, I will elaborate. <br />
<br />
In the fall of 2002, I was named 12th player on the Hingham High School Varsity Girls Soccer team. Although I received this award solely because I rode the pine all season as a backup goalie, it displays my teammates’ appreciation for my heart and dedication to our team. In 2003 (*cough cough* as a Team Captain) I led us to the Massachusetts State Tournament, GO HARBORWOMEN! Truth be told, I attribute much of my success in soccer to being grounded every August for from 1999 – 2003 for various partying related incidents. <br />
<br />
In college (no parents) my skills became quite refined and I really hit my stride in combining my athletics with my affinity for adult beverages. I joined the cross country team for my first ever “<a href="http://www.beermile.com/faq.beer#rules">beer mile</a>”. That’s right beer/lap, beer/lap, beer/lap, beer/lap – finish. I only threw up once and believe I finished in less than 20 minutes. A year later, as a Senior I was the Women’s Lacrosse Team Captain and a 2nd Team All Conference player (yah not 1st team, whatevs). Our team went to the Northeast-10 Conference semi-finals. Though we lost the game, we drank spiked Gatorades the entire trip from Easton, Massachusetts to Burlington, Vermont. Thus proving I am resourceful, and seasoned in road tripping with large groups. <br />
<br />
Most recently, this past Saturday at the BC 5k, I tested my endurance in both running and boozing. Sure, I got a respectable time for running 3.1 miles, but better than that I was out from the time the bars opened until they closed. That’s right; I drank for 15 hours straight no stopping. Sleep when you’re dead. <br />
<br />
Finally, my skills via blogger.com twitter and Facebook will ensure that all of your weekend is fully and completely documented start to finish. Moreover, if you say something funny enough, your quote will receive the highest honor possible: being my Facebook album title.<br />
<br />
I believe my background outlined above qualifies me for consideration to attend and participate in the 19th Annual Darden Softball Invitational. I look forward to discussing how my skills can be of value to the BC MBA Graduate Softball Team as it prepares for the road to victory. <br />
<br />
Sincerely, <br />
<br />
Popprincess<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9F7LFwiPl4/TbY6Vvpf0gI/AAAAAAAACB8/Y58gwJR1ea0/s1600/blog_BCVA.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9F7LFwiPl4/TbY6Vvpf0gI/AAAAAAAACB8/Y58gwJR1ea0/s320/blog_BCVA.JPG" width="320" /></a>Good news kids - I made it on the trip...much more to come....can you spy with your little eye the only one that won't have an MBA next month? I can I can!!!popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-30451655782428174102011-04-20T22:47:00.000-04:002011-04-20T22:47:39.590-04:00Why is Nugget Single?<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://www.thecleaningtechnicians.com/images/maid_dusting_a6x9.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158px" i8="true" src="http://www.thecleaningtechnicians.com/images/maid_dusting_a6x9.gif" width="200px" /></a>Q: Why is Nugget Single? </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A: <em>Real quotes from nugget: </em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>"I dust my stove once a week"<br />
<br />
"The only thing I use kitchen utensils for is to clean out my fish tank".<br />
<br />
yeah, I'd say those are pretty good reasons why nuggs.popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-24076433204841770862011-04-10T20:13:00.000-04:002011-04-10T20:13:07.492-04:00Thank you, Dusty B. - Best Video<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rjTmE4nMjJ4" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
April 9, 2011 - Hiking Tuckerman's Ravine on Mount Washington in New Hampshire along the Chute. A friend and I are standing behind the boulder to avoid oncoming sluff. I was filming for really no reason other than to capture the size of sluff coming down the hill. Then, this guy cuts in between us for, at the time, I thought no reason. That was not the case...<br />
Two seconds later, a helpless girl comes flying face first down the mountain at a barreling speed (40-45 MPH) on a 55 degree slope. Roughly 150 pounds of woman, clothing and ski gear rifles down the hill and continues to take out on an unsuspecting hiker. <br />
<br />
Not the best thing to see on your first ascent on Tuckerman's but I did strike gold because I didn't realize i had caught her on film til we got back to the base...popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-15324196088771503962011-03-30T22:48:00.000-04:002011-03-30T22:48:48.547-04:00"He'll pee all over me, I know it."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/4168050240_0d5e927771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/4168050240_0d5e927771.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>As you may know, Mrs. Moose Sticky Icky (officially) is hard at work studying to get her MBA and putting her nose to the grindstone as an intern...NAHT.<br />
<br />
Your girl has gone to the end of the internet and back, spends her days and nights assaulting Facebook and terrorizing working folk like me on gchat. Nonetheless, she shared this lovely gem of a YouTube video with me:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="255" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CLGJ-LVCQrM" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe><br />
<br />
gchat convo went as follows:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7BftdDHr4-w/TZPprB0QUtI/AAAAAAAACB0/wlVl8PzLsA4/s1600/fulton_fuller.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7BftdDHr4-w/TZPprB0QUtI/AAAAAAAACB0/wlVl8PzLsA4/s320/fulton_fuller.JPG" width="200" /></a>Me: Is that serious?? that's like fuller's theme song...wait, fulton? I'm losing my touch, wtf is the mighty duck's name?<br />
<br />
Moose: fulton, fuller peed the bed<br />
<br />
So, I spent a full week thinking I'd completely lost my edge. I couldn't even keep a handle on the useless knowledge that fills my wee little brain! All of the nonsense from 90's movies was getting jumbled together! Pretty soon I wouldn't even be able to name what movie "Buzz, your girlfriend, WOOF" was from! If you don't know the movie, you're nothing.<br />
<br />
Moose decided this past weekend, she'd spread the word about how I'd fallen off the wagon of knowing useless facts and share this story with TACO.<br />
<br />
TACO called the Moose out immediatey. He was all "uhh Fulton didn't know how to skate at all". He thought it was the texan that couldn't stop.<br />
<br />
<i>WRONG AGAIN</i>.<br />
<br />
Let's break it down.<br />
<br />
Fuller - <i>Home Alone</i>, "You know about him, he wets the bed".<br />
<br />
Fulton Reed - Powerful but inaccurate slap shot, 1/2 of the bash brothers<br />
<br />
Dwayne Robertson - cowboy, showoff, <i>D2</i><b></b><br />
<br />
and finally....drumroll please<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aGJHvj7wZcg/TZPqD3-h6OI/AAAAAAAACB4/11zsvBF1pus/s1600/mighty-ducks-luis-mendoza-andrew-cogliano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aGJHvj7wZcg/TZPqD3-h6OI/AAAAAAAACB4/11zsvBF1pus/s200/mighty-ducks-luis-mendoza-andrew-cogliano.jpg" width="159" /></a><br />
Luis Mendoza - fastest skater, unable to stop (played by none other than benny "the jet" rodriguez).<b><br />
</b><br />
<br />
Moose discovered this when trolling the internet trying to find a video that would prove TACO's theory...and then promptly attacked me via gchat<br />
<br />
Moose: IT WAS EFFING MENDOZA!! WE WERE ALL WRONG.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="255" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tZGJdWYTI-g" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe><br />
<br />
So there you have it. Glad to know that the Moose (and I) are spending days, nights, and weekends finding the one thing our society most needs (obv <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3st-Hai1y54">world peace</a>), saving environment and so on and so forth. No we're crimesolving and I'm proud to tell you we cracked the case.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
<br />
Popprincess<b><br />
</b>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-68105863591234072112011-03-27T17:53:00.004-04:002011-03-27T20:28:49.315-04:00The Merrimack Valley & Hooked on Phonics<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bestplaces.net/images/city/Haverhill_MA.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.bestplaces.net/images/city/Haverhill_MA.gif" /></a></div>My good friend Fox hails from a place called Haverhill (<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=helltown">"helltown"</a>), Massachusetts. Fox is proud to be from Helltown, former dwelling place of Tom Bergeron, Rob Zombie and was even featured on <a href="http://www.thebostonchannel.com/video/27314880/detail.html">Chronicle</a> just last week!<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Haverhill is so far North, we tell Fox she's from New Hampshire (get over it, you are). If you haven't had the pleasure of meeting a "hillie" up close and personal, I'll have you know that they are quite the treat. Most of them that were born and raised seem to maintain this distinct Merrimack Valley accent. </div><br />
<br />
<br />
It very much resembles any other Boston accent, with just a bit more attitude. If not putting forth a tremendous amount of effort she <i>pahks her cah</i>, tells me i'm <i>retahded </i>and hangs out in the <i>pahlah</i> with her <i>mutha</i>.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55Bo7oYP4cE/TY_UoKXpUsI/AAAAAAAACBs/Q-XbjOQyEw8/s1600/112241_24488_128_spellcheck_icon.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55Bo7oYP4cE/TY_UoKXpUsI/AAAAAAAACBs/Q-XbjOQyEw8/s1600/112241_24488_128_spellcheck_icon.png" /></a>On top of this accent, Fox is a terrible speller. I'm not trying to knock her intelligence, my girl's wicked smaht, she graduated cum laude (while I on the other hand graduated <a href="http://popprincess301.blogspot.com/2010/04/if-you-want-to-feel-like-has-beengoogle.html">cum friends</a>). </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><br />
Here's a taste of this weakness of hers per some gchat convos:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Fox: i legit thought you were in a <b>hostidge </b>situation<br />
<br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Fox::im goin <b>rouge</b> </span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Me: rogue you mean? rouge means red in french </span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Fox: umm yeah not red, sarah palin style </span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Me: wow you can't spell </span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Fox: <b>its</b> so bad</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Today, she shares this lovely gem with me....</span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"></span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Until around age 12 she legitimately thought her good friend's name was Robbit.</span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Robbit Fox, really? </span></span><br />
<a href="http://www.readingfoundation.org/images/partners/hooked_on_phonics_logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="0" src="http://www.readingfoundation.org/images/partners/hooked_on_phonics_logo.gif" width="0" /></a><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RWfd1JfnsdM/TY_VDS73LNI/AAAAAAAACBw/yS73VQI_Ydc/s1600/hooked-on-phonics.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RWfd1JfnsdM/TY_VDS73LNI/AAAAAAAACBw/yS73VQI_Ydc/s1600/hooked-on-phonics.gif" /></a><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><i>Hunny, tell Robbit it's time fa dinnah.</i></span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><i>If you don't share with Robbit, I'm not lettin' you in the cah.</i></span></span></div><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><i></i></span></span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><i>I think Robbit can stay, let me ask his mutha. </i></span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Fox, I hope Robert's mother let him stay for dinner and you got to go in the car too. </span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">xoxo,</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo">Pop</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span class="z19Dle" id="col-z131wlthft3cz532z22iibdw0vy2gfgci"><span class="zo"><br />
</span></span></div>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-1632277308206358272011-03-23T23:41:00.002-04:002011-03-24T21:42:43.312-04:00Want to move up to A?<a href="http://simplyzesty.com/wp-content/uploads//2010/03/just_say_no.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://simplyzesty.com/wp-content/uploads//2010/03/just_say_no.gif" width="200" /></a>As you may know, I play in quite a few adult sporting leagues (which include, but are not limited to: soccer, lacrosse, kickball, softball etc.). <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I'm terrible at saying no to these things. Last year I somehow agreed to be the goalie in a Sunday Women's soccer league all the way in Newton </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>The time and location are probably why I had to fake a death in the family because I was out celebrating Beej's bday (and toads obvi wasn't going to make it to a 8AM game). Nonetheless, people ask and ask and I continually agree to join these teams with friends and friend of friends. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Back in January my friend J$ asked if I wanted to join yet <i>another</i> team. Sure! I thought, right up the street and not on the weekend, SOLD. </div><br />
So J$ picks me up for our first game. As we were getting out of the car....<br />
<br />
Me:So how do you know the guys on this team, from college?<br />
J$: oh, I don't know anyone on this team, I just signed us up as individuals<br />
<br />
WHAAAAT? Dear god! Talk about awkward. Are these all of the lonely people in the city of Boston looking for friends? The folks looking for some fun/social scene while playin' the good 'ole game of soccer? Listen, I have enough friends. I def don't need anymore strangers that want to be my friend. No, none of you can be in my 5.<br />
<br />
So we show up, sign in, get our jerseys and we're effing brown, BROWN. I have every color of the rainbow from the BSSC, FSSC, CSI, FBI or whatever the heck sporting league I've been in. The crap Brown shirt we get reads:<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-TY5Jz43QgPY/TYqE7ta9xcI/AAAAAAAACBo/bYs6OkSZ4kI/s1600/image002.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-TY5Jz43QgPY/TYqE7ta9xcI/AAAAAAAACBo/bYs6OkSZ4kI/s200/image002.gif" width="193" /></a><br />
We put the <i>fun </i>back into sports. <br />
<br />
Honestly? This is what you're going with? There's no creativity here. It actually doesn't even make sense. I don't see the play on words with <i>fun </i>and <i>sports, </i>and to add insult to injury I have to wear this shirt week after week. Dear person who made up the slogan, you're fired.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So J$ and I are warming up, kicking the ball around and I was all "wait why is our team name B12?" Then I look to the field next to us I see some super athletic dudes and dudettes warming up and realize...<br />
<br />
"OMG, we're on the effing B team?". Then I take a gander at the other idiots in shit brown jerseys and realize, yup 100% on the B team: we have a hippy with long hair, some slightly out of shape folks (myself excluded), a married couple, and a token foreigner...WHAT IS HAPPENING!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tv-intros.com/a/a%20team.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://www.tv-intros.com/a/a%20team.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>With the exception of 8th grade basketball and 5th grade travel soccer I was <i>never, ever</i> on the B team. I have to say, I might have lost my touch a bit, but god damn it I belong with the the athletic has-beens! Not in a hodge-podge group of misfits! <br />
<br />
Well, turns out our hodge-podge crew is actually stellar. The wife of the married couple is a rock-star, and some of the out-of-shape looking people are sneaky athletic. Go crap colored team, go!!! We even made it to the semi finals on Monday and all played like woah (even though all of us had consumed way more the 10+ drinks the day before at the parade). <br />
<br />
So we're on the road to the finals, and today I recieved a disturbing e-mail, see below: <br />
<br />
<i>Hi Mike, was your team interested in moving up to A division for spring in Southie? </i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>The top two teams in A are taking the spring off so you won't have to face them. I am asking your team and B3 (first place in B) to move up in those vacancies (B9 and B11 are not returning for spring).</i><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><i>Please confirm if you want to move up to A, I hope to have the new schedule done by Sunday.</i></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><i>Kathy</i> </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Is that for REALSIES? Hey guys, the<i> </i>best of the best are bowing out this season and you're the 4th best team of the pretty shitty teams(you got it, two teams of the unathletic teams are better than and aren't going to play), so you are MOVIN ON UP!! It's almost like letting me have some playing time because allllll of the starting lineup is out with the swine flu.</div><p><a href="http://www.vinylrecords.ch/movies/D/DO/DodgeBall/Thumbs/dodgeballpubd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.vinylrecords.ch/movies/D/DO/DodgeBall/Thumbs/dodgeballpubd.jpg" /></a>My first thought was, no Kathy, we'd like to stay in the B league or better yet, quit your league all together because you just took the fun <i>out</i> of sports for me Kathy, you really did! <br />
<br />
But then I thought, Did Peter La Fleur and the Average Joe's backout of the dodgeball tournment when Troup 417 was disqualified? (obvi for testing positive for three separate types of anabolic steroids, and a low-grade beaver tranquilizer, God damn that Bernice!). NO! they didn't!<br />
<br />
So, I guess the answer is yes, Kathy we'll move up, AND stick it to you by winning the 'ship next week!Wish me luck team B-12 is gonna need it.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="255" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/G_zaiHHIdME" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe><br />
<br />
xoxo, <br />
Popprincesspopprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-9091519815915376852011-03-22T22:29:00.001-04:002011-03-24T21:44:53.603-04:00St. Mikes does Attitash, with a Splash of Motor Booty Affair<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IMIHcR3lLZA/TYlZzrq49UI/AAAAAAAACBk/L_FHkmsCL0o/s1600/springmania.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-IMIHcR3lLZA/TYlZzrq49UI/AAAAAAAACBk/L_FHkmsCL0o/s320/springmania.JPG" width="320" /></a>So, you'd think after the St. Paddy's day festivities my friends and I would have a nice relaxing weekend or two.<br />
<br />
Well, we're going up for a long overdue visit to NH to see our good friend Faith Mason this weekend. Skiing? Enjoying that fresh mountain air?<br />
<br />
Maybe. Maybe not. This is what we are in for...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="199" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JzG6wsjHWDQ" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
Faith, can't wait to see you! We can discuss the launch of flipthatcladdagh.com, I have some new ideas.<br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
Poppopprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-77394003826743215522011-03-16T21:21:00.000-04:002011-03-16T21:21:39.167-04:00RIP Nate Dogg<img border="0" height="0" src="http://c.gigcount.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEzMDAzMjQ4MDk5NTMmcHQ9MTMwMDMyNDgxMzk1MyZwPTY5NDMwMSZkPSZnPTEmbz*xNzliNzMwYTVlMDY*NzNjODU2/NDAzNjVhZmU4YTE2YSZvZj*w.gif" style="height: 0px; visibility: hidden; width: 0px;" width="0" /><br />
<div style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; visibility: visible; width: 450px;"><object height="470" width="450"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="flashvars" value="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_blue_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musiclist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D84660837%26t%3D1300324808&wid=os"></param><embed style="width:450px; visibility:visible; height:470px;" allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf" flashvars="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_blue_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musiclist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D84660837%26t%3D1300324808&wid=os" width="450" height="470" name="mp3player" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" border="0"/> </object> <br />
<a href="http://www.musiclist.us/"><img alt="Get a playlist!" border="0" src="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/images/create_blue.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://www.musiclist.us/playlist/21673174283/standalone" target="_blank"><img alt="Standalone player" border="0" src="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/images/launch_blue.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://www.musiclist.us/playlist/21673174283/download"><img alt="Get Ringtones" border="0" src="http://www.musiclist.us/mc/images/get_blue.jpg" /></a> </div>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-78323887834010345612011-03-13T18:45:00.002-04:002011-03-13T22:56:26.571-04:00Yah, I'm the hottest girl in the bar...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://skadaddlemedia.com/uploads/ahacampaign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://skadaddlemedia.com/uploads/ahacampaign.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>A few years back Moose's friend <i>Jac</i> from the San Fran had what I can only describe as an "Aha-moment" and not the wholesome, Oprah type moment...<br />
<br />
She described it like this: "<i>Every time I go out,</i> <i>somewhere between 8 and 12 drinks I really, truly think I'm the hottest girl in the bar</i>". <br />
<br />
Hysterical, I thought, what a character that Jac is! Quite some time has passed since she told us about this, and I'd honestly never experienced this "hottest girl in the bar syndrome", until now. Last night somewhere between 8 and 12 vodka cocktails, the feeling just took over.<br />
<br />
I thought I was the hottest girl at the god damn North Star in Boston, Massachusetts. <br />
<br />
With my exceptionally good-looking girl friends excluded, the female talent at the bar was not abundant. I, however, certainly was not the best lookin' gal there (though my vodka filled brain told me otherwise). <br />
<br />
Let's paint the picture for ya....first off, Nugget and I bombed into the bar ready to rage. We did not have a single dollar of ca$h on us. Too lazy and cheap to walk to an ATM, we batted our eyelashes at the two bouncers and told them we would buy them shots if we didn't have to pay the cover. IT WORKED, no shots necessary. <br />
<br />
We <i>must</i> be the hottest girls here. <br />
<br />
We b-lined for the bar, and Nugs orderd two shots of jose cuervo (really nugget?). Cheap tequila shots are so sexy!<br />
<br />
The beats were pumping so obvi we headed towards the dance floor. Honest to blog I was dancing like I was the highest paid extra in j.lo's new video. <br />
<br />
I cannot dance. Legitimately my staple dance moves are washing the windows, fist pumping and an intermittent twirl from whichever lucky dude gets to take me for a spin on the floor. That is exactly what was happening, per usual, I just thought I looked <i>damn </i>good doing it. There may or may not have been a booty drop sprinkled in the mix. Whoopsies.<br />
<br />
So outside the bar, the weather last night was nothing short of amazing, it was probably 50 degrees! Wonderful news as far as escaping the chilly winter, but terrible news for the temperature inside the bar. Beads of sweat would be an understatement. I was sweating like a Biggest Loser contestant on Week 1.<br />
<br />
Somehow, I still thought I looked A-mazing...<br />
<br />
This new-found confidence came to a screeching halt on my first visit to the bathroom. This is when reality set in. My perfectly coiffed hair was now a sweat-filled frizzy mess that was stuck to my face. The makeup I spent a solid 30 minutes putting on had all but disappeared. I'm pretty sure I'd spilled some form of brown liquor on my new top. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuyXAc0kqSXtvfaEIlDd3z6Qf9k5FK5KTKzMiOAXYetmLGs225HvpgMSmYC0lQm8BExuZ8MPp66iQox2t6iRiifUTcizXfLXMv1AUdy8qCgTURvpW61lX7XC8dDTXQDaBuRrtdOrIFYNA/s1600/87hotmess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuyXAc0kqSXtvfaEIlDd3z6Qf9k5FK5KTKzMiOAXYetmLGs225HvpgMSmYC0lQm8BExuZ8MPp66iQox2t6iRiifUTcizXfLXMv1AUdy8qCgTURvpW61lX7XC8dDTXQDaBuRrtdOrIFYNA/s320/87hotmess.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
I longed to turn back time and get my hottest girl feeling back, but it was now just a distant memory from my past. Instead of fixing myself up, this is the thought that went through my head (or the comment that was said out loud to the strangers in the bathroom with me...)<br />
<br />
<i>"When I open my own bar, I'm totally going to put fewer mirrors in it...". </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i></i>Seriously.<br />
<br />
<br />
Know this: sometime in the future(it could even be years), however high or low your self-esteem may be, this <i>will</i> happen to you. You won't see it coming, it will happen out of the blue, but when it does just embrace it.<br />
<br />
The house of cards will all come falling down when you either A) Go to the bathroom (provided you are not at my awesome bar that doesn't have any mirors) or B) You see your mess of a self in photos that are streaming through the facebook mini-feed.<br />
<br />
Good luck and god speed.<br />
<br />
xoxo,<br />
Popprincesspopprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-21291819008138492682011-03-06T20:41:00.000-05:002011-03-06T20:41:59.013-05:00"But people don't even watch music videos anymore"These are for Nugget. We still watch music videos.<br />
<br />
Mike Posner - Bow Chicka Wow Wow ft. Lil Wayne<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="199" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SWfUp70XMLI" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe><br />
<br />
J.Lo - On the Floor ft. Pitbull<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="199" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/t4H_Zoh7G5A" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe><br />
<br />
Avril Lavigne - What the Hell<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="199" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tQmEd_UeeIk" title="YouTube video player" width="300"></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-87899475406041924902011-03-02T20:50:00.002-05:002011-03-02T20:53:41.883-05:00An Open Letter to Justin Timberlake<a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IMZb6mEqmUs/TW7gSqSJ0mI/AAAAAAAACBg/8p1nUrARvZ8/s1600/justin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IMZb6mEqmUs/TW7gSqSJ0mI/AAAAAAAACBg/8p1nUrARvZ8/s200/justin1.jpg" width="136" /></a>Dear Justin,<br />
<br />
How are you? Are things good? How's Jessica, good? Good. Let's cut to the chase.<br />
<br />
What's happened? My concern is growing because you are a very talented guy, you're a triple threat in fact! You can sing, dance and act but your priorities seem to be whack lately to say the least. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMTIzMTY3NTgzN15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMTIxNTUyMQ@@._V1._SY317_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BMTIzMTY3NTgzN15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMTIxNTUyMQ@@._V1._SY317_.jpg" /></a></div>You can sing, dance, and act and should do so<i> in that order</i>. Sure, your acting career has come a long way since you were in that ABC Family made for TV movie (ahem, <i>Model Behavior</i>). And even though I shed a tear at the end of <i>Alpha Dog</i>, seeing you as a tatooed bad-ass in a movie that is a B- at best is not what I'm lookin' for. <br />
<br />
So maybe you made some strides outside music biz over the past few years. We LOVED <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WhwbxEfy7fg"><i>D*ck in a box</i></a>, we did. I agree, you may have missed your calling as an SNL regular. You were pretty bomb at <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pzBrKT0QLWc">hosting the ESPY's</a>, we love sports too.<br />
<br />
But let's get REAL: Shrek the Third was by far the worst in the series. Then, did you really sign on as the voice of Boo-Boo? And after that you played a booger on <i>The Cleveland Show</i>? Nothing sexy about that JT.<br />
<br />
Maybe the voice-overs are fun but take it back to the basics. People are starting to forget who you are! Take for example my roommate, Beej and her boyfriend @KLFatso. They went to see <i>The Social Network</i> together. <br />
<br />
1/2 way through the movie:<br />
@KLFatso: So, is that really the guy that invented Napster?<br />
Beej: No, that's Justin Timberlake?<br />
<br />
Exactly KLfasto, who <i>is </i>he??? Oh, he brought SexyBack in<b> 2006</b>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRp3E2Osh9K-1nSocPWOOluZSBvIucdlCp01WS-3pX3DUBHHNYE&t=1" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRp3E2Osh9K-1nSocPWOOluZSBvIucdlCp01WS-3pX3DUBHHNYE&t=1" /></a></div>Per wikipedia, since 2007 he's been doing "collaborations & acting". Well the collabos are few and far between. Listen up. Carry out was only O.K., so was 4 minutes but Madonna anytime past 1990 is overrated. Don't be so quick to walk away...from your solo music career JT. We need you! <br />
<br />
Give freaking Nelly Furtado a call and get something crackin'! I need a beat. I need a dance beat and I need it from you. Do me a solid get your ass out of the voice-over studio and into the music studio. So bring Rihanna, Timbo, T.I. (once he's out of jail <i>again</i>) and whoever else you need. <br />
<br />
<br />
Call Lil' wayne, you're bound to go top 10 if you bring him.<br />
<br />
I'm here for you bud, but if you star in another GD animated feature I'm gonna agree that sexy left for good and go see what JC Chasez is up to. <br />
<br />
Until then,<br />
XOXO<br />
Popprincess<br />
<br />
<img border="0" height="0" src="http://c.gigcount.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEyOTkxMTY5MjcwNjImcHQ9MTI5OTExNjk*MjQwNiZwPTY5NDMwMSZkPSZnPTEmbz*wNDgzNGU2NDAwN2I*NDE1OGU3/YjdhNzQ3M2VkZTEyNSZvZj*w.gif" style="height: 0px; visibility: hidden; width: 0px;" width="0" /><br />
<div style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; visibility: visible; width: 450px;"><object height="470" width="450"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.playlistproject.net/mc/mp3player_new.swf"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="flashvars" value="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_purple_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.playlistproject.net%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D84383504%26t%3D1299116927&wid=os"></param><embed style="width:450px; visibility:visible; height:470px;" allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://www.playlistproject.net/mc/mp3player_new.swf" flashvars="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_purple_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.playlistproject.net%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D84383504%26t%3D1299116927&wid=os" width="450" height="470" name="mp3player" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" border="0"/> </object> <br />
<a href="http://www.playlistproject.net/"><img alt="Get a playlist!" border="0" src="http://www.playlistproject.net/mc/images/create_purple.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://www.playlistproject.net/playlist/21602177035/standalone" target="_blank"><img alt="Standalone player" border="0" src="http://www.playlistproject.net/mc/images/launch_purple.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://www.playlistproject.net/playlist/21602177035/download"><img alt="Get Ringtones" border="0" src="http://www.playlistproject.net/mc/images/get_purple.jpg" /></a> </div>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-39014644014139824312011-03-01T22:08:00.000-05:002011-03-01T22:08:48.271-05:00Grand Canyon Here We Come?<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9TR48FnmLC0/TTmsncmss8I/AAAAAAAAAGw/31yv20qZaR4/s1600/cute-hamster-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9TR48FnmLC0/TTmsncmss8I/AAAAAAAAAGw/31yv20qZaR4/s200/cute-hamster-21.jpg" width="170" /></a>It's pretty much official that my friends and I are tapped.</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">Saturday we had a brilliant idea to become moms....sort of. Vicki deemed it a "pregancy pact" but in all reality we just went to PetCo in Quincy and bought some betta fish. </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><div style="border: medium none;">The grand plan stemmed from a very deep conversation about Nugget's hypothetical hamster named Carl. She used to get a little lonely over in Brighton when her roomies weren't around, so she thought a small rodent with a human name would provide a little companionship. My response to this (not thinking Carl was a weird name for a hampster by any means) was:</div></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><p><i>What? People name their dogs Sarah.</i><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ts_HmDp91Co/TWsBKWhqsKI/AAAAAAAACBM/h2ypzax__rE/s1600/sam+the+fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ts_HmDp91Co/TWsBKWhqsKI/AAAAAAAACBM/h2ypzax__rE/s200/sam+the+fish.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border: medium none;"><div style="border: medium none;">My friends had a field day with this. If you know a dog named Sarah please provide me with some proof (a picture of her dog tag perhaps) so I can shut them up, thanks!</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">So anyhoo we decided that we would each get a Betta fish, give it a human name, and see whose fish could live the longest. We also decided that each time a fish passes away, there will be a special ceremony at a pre-determined location. </div></div><br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><div style="border: medium none;">We threw around ideas like going to the top of the hub, freezing all the fish until that last one was gone and sending them all off together...but we've outlined the plan below and in the hopes that years would pass before the first fish kicked the bucket...<br />
<br />
</div></div>Fish #1 - Everyone goes to to that person's house with a condolence gift. Honorary flush.<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">Fish #2 - Carson Beach. Brunch at Amrheins.</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">Fish #3 - Lake Champlain. Sweetwaters.</div><br />
Fish #4 - GRAND CANYON. Head to wherever there's awesome food.<br />
<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><div style="border: medium none;">That's right, Fox wants to ride a donkey down to the bottom of the grand canyon, put her fish (Craig) in a special wreath and send him down the river. Keep in mind Craig is named after Craig from <i>Friday </i>(you know Ice Cube also from <i>Next Friday</i> and <i>Friday after Next). "SUP CRAIIIIIIIGGGG?".</i></div><br />
If we're too poor to go to the Grand Canyon, we've come up with a backup plan of Niagra falls (on the Canada side of course). Did I mention that we were tapped? Just thought I would reiterate that. <br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://www.bestweekever.tv/bwe/images/2007/10/CAT%20LADY%20PIC.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.bestweekever.tv/bwe/images/2007/10/CAT%20LADY%20PIC.JPG" width="167" /></a></div>My mother's response to this plan was, plain and simple:<br />
<br />
<i>Well at least it's not a cat</i>...</div><br />
We've come up with some rules for this weird but awesome competition:<br />
<br />
Rule #1: You may not order fish at the coalition, fish are friends not food. Everyone must have nice words prepared for the meal. <br />
<br />
Rule #2: Your fish must have a human name (example: Sarah).<br />
<br />
Rule #3: Fish Care: You may not sabatage anyone else's fish. If you're babysitting you must ,care for the fish as if it is your own. You may not let anyone outside the group babysit your fish.<br />
<br />
Rule #4: Death notice must be via voicemail or email. Voicemail order is alphabetically by 1st name.<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">Rule #5: You must leave all significant others and family behind during the coalition.</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><div style="border: medium none;">So that's it. There you have it. Craig, Dave, Ernest and Sam were adopted on Saturday, February 27th. I am currently babysitting Dave while Nugget is in Florida. Dave and Sam are safe and sound. HOWEVER, A mere 2 DAYS post adoption.<span id="goog_949450438"></span></div><span id="goog_949450439"></span><br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div>Fox kills craig....(<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>see Craig, pictured below</b></span>).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3nr_4MNGXGs/TW2wzhRct4I/AAAAAAAACBY/XJTzKYAbM9k/s1600/craig2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3nr_4MNGXGs/TW2wzhRct4I/AAAAAAAACBY/XJTzKYAbM9k/s200/craig2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3CZdqc55odM/TW2ySLX5pfI/AAAAAAAACBc/hXw-KzgcZrs/s1600/craig+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3CZdqc55odM/TW2ySLX5pfI/AAAAAAAACBc/hXw-KzgcZrs/s200/craig+3.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
First off, she broke rule #4 and gave me the death notice via gchat and then with a picture text message...that was not outlined in the rules. Nonetheless, it looks like we'll all be heading to F street for an honarary flush. <br />
<br />
RIP Craig, long live Dave, Ernest and Sam...<br />
<br />
xoxo, <br />
Popprincess</div>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-65603381664973868682011-02-25T11:04:00.000-05:002011-02-25T11:04:47.686-05:00Why are We Single?<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumblarge_328/1225491480o89MX9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumblarge_328/1225491480o89MX9.jpg" width="212" /></a>Yeah, back to back singleness...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Me: Fox, Why are you single?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Fox: One day i faked sick to go on a job interview. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">To make it more believeable, the next day I didn't wear makeup when I went into the office. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>My boss told me I looked awful and made me go home.popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-49995865073943796712011-02-24T18:47:00.003-05:002011-02-25T11:01:51.700-05:00Why am I Single?<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.gazettextra.com/img/photos/2008/11/21/Layway_t200.jpg?63053ce3c12ccdabb07c8a8609241a2395705911" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="http://media.gazettextra.com/img/photos/2008/11/21/Layway_t200.jpg?63053ce3c12ccdabb07c8a8609241a2395705911" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Q: Why am I Single?</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A: A recent conversation with Fox:</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Me: I want to, like, go shopping. </div><br />
Fox: Okay<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Me: I don't really have a lot of money right now, maybe I'll just put some things on hold.<br />
<br />
Fox: I don't think they have layaway at Ann Taylor.popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-41479492866070533922011-02-21T17:24:00.001-05:002011-02-21T18:24:05.965-05:00Oh, You Know Him, He's the Other Penguin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ldvvl7HzOCQ/TWLetYTwiOI/AAAAAAAACBE/Gx94UIuZed0/s1600/Story+time.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ldvvl7HzOCQ/TWLetYTwiOI/AAAAAAAACBE/Gx94UIuZed0/s1600/Story+time.JPG" /></a></div>It has come to my attention that when I begin telling a story, I always explain the characters of my tale in the same way. Every. Single. Time.<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;">These are stories about people I know, not stories about Disney characters. At first, I was doing it out of sheer convenience for the audience of my kick ass stories. I always find myself wanting to explain who the eff I am talking about and frankly I'm pretty bad at describing what people look like.</div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><i>Yeah, he's like not short, but not tall....I donno! He has eyes and hair.</i></div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div>So after our Halloween party, a light bulb went off. [Insert thought bubble]<i>...I'll just explain who I'm talking about by referring to them by their costume</i>, GENIOUS!! Take note:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aFg0AgvX4fc/TWLdvTtHngI/AAAAAAAACBA/MfSgTti25SM/s1600/costumes_final.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aFg0AgvX4fc/TWLdvTtHngI/AAAAAAAACBA/MfSgTti25SM/s400/costumes_final.JPG" width="276" /></a><br />
<i>She was one of the Kardashians....no no, that was Kim, Fox was the mom.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Yah, my friend Faith the one that lives in nh.....Operation??</i><br />
<br />
<i>Moose and her husband, yeah I mean Mario & Luigi...</i><br />
<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><i>Yeah I'm just going to hang out with my roommate tonight...yep that's her, the green troll</i></div><br />
<i>Mmmm hmmm she was the tiger her fiance was Roy</i><br />
<br />
<i>Yah my friend that threw up off the chairlift last weekend, that was Snooki</i><br />
<br />
<i>Oh, you know him, he's the other Penguin</i><br />
<br />
<br />
So, be wary of what you decide to dress as for my parties because it will follow you around for a full calendar year. It's my world, you're just livin' in it. Okay, let's put this into practice for you kids now.<br />
<br />
It's prezzy weekend so obvi we were going to rage slash sunday funday. A few prezzy days back I blessed you all with the gem that was <a href="http://popprincess301.blogspot.com/2009/02/hangovahs.html">Hangovahs</a>, yeah you're welcome. This is all you get this year, sowwy.<br />
<br />
We had a crew out yesterday. Kris, Khloe and Kim Kardashian, Mario sans Luigi, the Hulk, Richard Simmons (moi), and Penguin 1 and Penguin 2 (maybe even a few more I can't recall). <br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UkrPLvlRiw4/TWLgLJ0CRNI/AAAAAAAACBI/VAX_S4J59pk/s1600/Penguin2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UkrPLvlRiw4/TWLgLJ0CRNI/AAAAAAAACBI/VAX_S4J59pk/s1600/Penguin2.JPG" /></a>Penguin 2 was celebrating his 29th Birthday, hard, and were all right there with him (while also celebrating some dead presidents as well). Everyone was having a jovial time, triple fisting John Daly's, smashing free shots of Doctor off our foreheads, and whipping out dance moves like the <a href="http://popprincess301.blogspot.com/2011/01/teach-me-how-to-bernie.html">Bernie</a> (at like 2 p.m.).<br />
<br />
So Penguin 2 had a few too many bevs and my bum may or may have not been slapped once or twice. I have to take into account that based on what I was wearing, in his mind, I was asking for it. I may return to my old reliable saying <b>no popprincess, spandex are not pants.</b> <br />
<br />
A few words were said and we moved on from that but an hour or so later, Moose decided to orchestrate a Bernie-off between me and Penguin 1. Again, I was putting myself into this situation...who the eff Bernies at Stats at all, let alone at 2:00p.m. on a Sunday....but I digress...<br />
<br />
I was just getting into my groove and I felt a some sort of wetness dripping down my head.<br />
<br />
<i>OMG, Penguin 2 just poured beer on my head! WTF!</i> <br />
<br />
So then I (Richard Simmons), grab Kris Kardashian and tell her what happened. Kris, the mom that she is talked me off the ledge much like when Kim was crying about her new nudey pics. Kris is such a great Mom.<br />
<br />
<div style="border: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border: medium none;"><a href="http://cdn.someecards.com/someecards/filestorage/facebook-friends-breakup-ecard-someecards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="111" src="http://cdn.someecards.com/someecards/filestorage/facebook-friends-breakup-ecard-someecards.jpg" width="200" /></a>Then the Hulk and Penguin 1 got into a small but noticeable argument with Penguin 2 (thanks for sticking up for Richard dudes). To the best of my knowledge I do not believe that any punches were exchanged, but shortly after Penguin 2 was removed from the bar. Sowwy Penguin 2.<br />
<br />
The worst part about the situation is that we didn't even get to declare a winner. One word for you Penguin 1: <b>Rematch</b>. </div><div style="border: medium none;"><br />
In case you are curious, things are okay between me and Penguin 2. Nothing that a facebook friendship request and an apology text can't cure! If you're reading this P2, you owe me a John Daly's or 6 the next time we're out around town, mmmk? </div><br />
To top it all off I ended my night by capping off my weekend with not just a 1-2 punch of Friday & Saturday night at the Whiskey Priest. You guessed it make that 3 nights in a row at Whiskey Priest. Aww yah, Whiskey Priest hat trick aww yah. Richard Simmons needs a live change ASAP. <br />
<br />
Until next time, <br />
Poppopprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-51820340698335489422011-02-21T13:40:00.000-05:002011-02-21T13:40:26.547-05:00Getting this CD tomm, fo sho.<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qemWRToNYJY" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3041104192504166246.post-1145767908315957822011-02-21T12:54:00.002-05:002011-02-21T12:54:22.471-05:00This is pretty amazing.<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8wRXa971Xw0" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe>popprincess301http://www.blogger.com/profile/17610008547296449918noreply@blogger.com0