tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49911116271267752222024-03-13T08:31:17.892-07:00Vegas LegacyCrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-50502766789582818912011-03-26T12:54:00.000-07:002011-03-26T12:54:11.063-07:002.4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZzW40JCT8tI/TY1QJUfmXvI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/Ag5IN4H5l_U/s1600/Screenshot-771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZzW40JCT8tI/TY1QJUfmXvI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/Ag5IN4H5l_U/s640/Screenshot-771.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, God, I'm not ready for this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d1wz-tjpz9Q/TY1QfZ_ojYI/AAAAAAAAAXU/e62jOVSKh9M/s1600/Screenshot-772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d1wz-tjpz9Q/TY1QfZ_ojYI/AAAAAAAAAXU/e62jOVSKh9M/s640/Screenshot-772.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I haven't dated in a while. What was I thinking? Could I possibly have thought this would be easy? Absolutely not. I'm horrible at this kind of stuff, horrible... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wbpx2nA5QHk/TY1SV-cI0PI/AAAAAAAAAXY/CkrJT-fhBkQ/s1600/Screenshot-773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wbpx2nA5QHk/TY1SV-cI0PI/AAAAAAAAAXY/CkrJT-fhBkQ/s640/Screenshot-773.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">His name was True. I've seen a few pictures of him from the dating site, and we had talked for a little while--</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Online.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But this was the real world, I was going to completely screw up. I just know it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-lzFOTlShRYg/TY1bBNC2HJI/AAAAAAAAAXc/kPdzCVh99e0/s1600/Screenshot-775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-lzFOTlShRYg/TY1bBNC2HJI/AAAAAAAAAXc/kPdzCVh99e0/s640/Screenshot-775.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And as per usual, I'm the only one in the world that feels like their insides are about to burst. Look at him! He's so calm, so... in the game. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_NZwdknmJ1U/TY1byMJe-yI/AAAAAAAAAXg/9xESr6R3EHY/s1600/Screenshot-776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_NZwdknmJ1U/TY1byMJe-yI/AAAAAAAAAXg/9xESr6R3EHY/s640/Screenshot-776.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was so shy.... so...<i>not </i>in the game. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-VTPhb0qKqpQ/TY1ctquM1KI/AAAAAAAAAXk/aKyx5hHjqJI/s1600/Screenshot-777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-VTPhb0qKqpQ/TY1ctquM1KI/AAAAAAAAAXk/aKyx5hHjqJI/s640/Screenshot-777.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We exchanged generic formalities...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">(<i>Oh, I can't believe we're finally getting to meet, isn't this wonderful?)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-MN4Y-oQKreE/TY1ds2ObC8I/AAAAAAAAAXo/ZA_-U0JxtQ0/s1600/Screenshot-778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-MN4Y-oQKreE/TY1ds2ObC8I/AAAAAAAAAXo/ZA_-U0JxtQ0/s640/Screenshot-778.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We were going to a small bistro in downtown Riverview, which was really a very formal place to be in a small town. As we drove, I whirred through all the possible things that could/would happen, some good, mostly bad. I wasn't very good at being perfect.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jFsOwTYQZKg/TY4wH_nqe6I/AAAAAAAAAXs/QosTzJ4k-lc/s1600/Screenshot-779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jFsOwTYQZKg/TY4wH_nqe6I/AAAAAAAAAXs/QosTzJ4k-lc/s640/Screenshot-779.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">But the date went fine. The date went perfect. And I happened to really like True. He was really nice and sweet, and I wouldn't mind seeing him again sometime.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-bEBGCDOoPAk/TY43kZvmWDI/AAAAAAAAAXw/3PEaHAGnbTU/s1600/Screenshot-781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="539" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-bEBGCDOoPAk/TY43kZvmWDI/AAAAAAAAAXw/3PEaHAGnbTU/s640/Screenshot-781.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wouldn't mind that at all, in fact. I mean, look at that face! It's so sweet, ahh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-sOAiRpkUrA0/TY5EQYj1DtI/AAAAAAAAAYg/RZsb6umfu6A/s1600/Screenshot-790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-sOAiRpkUrA0/TY5EQYj1DtI/AAAAAAAAAYg/RZsb6umfu6A/s640/Screenshot-790.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">But nothing could prepare me for what I was about to face once I got back home. Nothing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-rfj1u2LxosQ/TY4-fA6yVpI/AAAAAAAAAX0/X8cRWogUHe0/s1600/Screenshot-783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-rfj1u2LxosQ/TY4-fA6yVpI/AAAAAAAAAX0/X8cRWogUHe0/s640/Screenshot-783.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh my. Squeeee!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Yf-5Zil5bnE/TY4-rIghdjI/AAAAAAAAAX4/lp2wWiQfli0/s1600/Screenshot-782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Yf-5Zil5bnE/TY4-rIghdjI/AAAAAAAAAX4/lp2wWiQfli0/s640/Screenshot-782.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Saturday, March 26th, 2011. This day, this day was the happiest day of my life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1ws_P_27oMo/TY4_TBibkyI/AAAAAAAAAX8/NMrgokd9WLI/s1600/Screenshot-531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1ws_P_27oMo/TY4_TBibkyI/AAAAAAAAAX8/NMrgokd9WLI/s640/Screenshot-531.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Happier than when I first met Darian.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tDVXw7W_SeY/TY4_mSwe8sI/AAAAAAAAAYA/CkrUwMf750M/s1600/Screenshot-643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-tDVXw7W_SeY/TY4_mSwe8sI/AAAAAAAAAYA/CkrUwMf750M/s640/Screenshot-643.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Happier than when I discovered Darian was in Riverview</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-bceMkRoSo_Q/TY4_-yBMJHI/AAAAAAAAAYE/oZq_iaXQ6eY/s1600/Screenshot-669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-bceMkRoSo_Q/TY4_-yBMJHI/AAAAAAAAAYE/oZq_iaXQ6eY/s640/Screenshot-669.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Even happier than the birth of my girls.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-PujItjvZiYg/TY5AWfTIMAI/AAAAAAAAAYI/LWE-HDxM9Rs/s1600/Screenshot-786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-PujItjvZiYg/TY5AWfTIMAI/AAAAAAAAAYI/LWE-HDxM9Rs/s640/Screenshot-786.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And why you ask? Because today, Saturday, March 26th, 2011--</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GFnfgvEPmUY/TY5AgoLSf8I/AAAAAAAAAYM/IyPYSnGKRnc/s1600/Screenshot-784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GFnfgvEPmUY/TY5AgoLSf8I/AAAAAAAAAYM/IyPYSnGKRnc/s640/Screenshot-784.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">--was the beginning of forever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iRxLaOKR-94/TY5BFgTw1_I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/aqao8gAADPM/s1600/Screenshot-787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iRxLaOKR-94/TY5BFgTw1_I/AAAAAAAAAYQ/aqao8gAADPM/s640/Screenshot-787.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The beginning of my family.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qedQ7pbeMgA/TY5BZEthSnI/AAAAAAAAAYU/i5x8nLfAjDU/s1600/Screenshot-737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qedQ7pbeMgA/TY5BZEthSnI/AAAAAAAAAYU/i5x8nLfAjDU/s640/Screenshot-737.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I told Mom I'd be okay. I told her I never thought she had failed on me. Never. And I wouldn't fail her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-A-qubdeaJSk/TY5CIf1m6OI/AAAAAAAAAYY/HfhvIz79u2Y/s1600/Screenshot-789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-A-qubdeaJSk/TY5CIf1m6OI/AAAAAAAAAYY/HfhvIz79u2Y/s640/Screenshot-789.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And I wouldn't want to be with anybody else. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks, Mom.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I love you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_lSLTYEDIw/TY5CbdnuKZI/AAAAAAAAAYc/0jhohOWJRRM/s1600/Screenshot-733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O_lSLTYEDIw/TY5CbdnuKZI/AAAAAAAAAYc/0jhohOWJRRM/s640/Screenshot-733.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-30027491033388518272011-03-05T14:40:00.000-08:002011-03-05T14:40:14.417-08:002.3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-98ogPkTDr7c/TW7lewvfHcI/AAAAAAAAAT4/2SXiLbea2wg/s1600/Screenshot-714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-98ogPkTDr7c/TW7lewvfHcI/AAAAAAAAAT4/2SXiLbea2wg/s640/Screenshot-714.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Noel?" Kayo called out from the living room. "Noel... how does it feel to... to have a family?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tGaZ3okZPT8/TW7muGe4huI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/kWn2TzJHOK4/s1600/Screenshot-720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tGaZ3okZPT8/TW7muGe4huI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/kWn2TzJHOK4/s640/Screenshot-720.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Gee," I began. To be honest, it hadn't really even sunk in. Who ever that thought I would have any sort of family to fall back on? Darian was always there for me when I needed him, and I had two, growing, healthy baby girls. Why hadn't it sunk in? Beats me. "Gee, Kayo... it's--it's different. No doubt about that."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ydM4oJvKX_k/TW7liv09IrI/AAAAAAAAAUM/GbLrXbNNA6o/s1600/Screenshot-719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ydM4oJvKX_k/TW7liv09IrI/AAAAAAAAAUM/GbLrXbNNA6o/s640/Screenshot-719.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Your kiddies are so cute," she cooed. "You're the luckiest woman on Earth, you know! You're a mother!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">I giggled a bit at that. I wasn't sure if staying up all night trying to juggle two screaming toddlers was my definition of lucky, but I suppose if the shoe fits....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8jSq14Z-UbE/TW7lfRayILI/AAAAAAAAAT8/k8umJSUfmBQ/s1600/Screenshot-715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8jSq14Z-UbE/TW7lfRayILI/AAAAAAAAAT8/k8umJSUfmBQ/s640/Screenshot-715.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Noel... I've been looking at this site.... SimMatch.com. What... what do you think? Is it... too... too desperate?" I looked at her, astonished. How could I think her desperate? This woman had helped me through thick and thin, and there was no way that the word "desperate" could even begin to describe Kayo. "No way, Kayo. No way. If that's what you want, go for it."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t4Szoo1szoM/TW7lhvJ21FI/AAAAAAAAAUE/a83TUTOlqzc/s1600/Screenshot-717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t4Szoo1szoM/TW7lhvJ21FI/AAAAAAAAAUE/a83TUTOlqzc/s640/Screenshot-717.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I knew how badly Kayo wanted kids. A family. I could see it in the way she looked at Annabelle and Marie. It's why she's stuck around so long, her love for children. And though I know she loves them as if they were her own, but... that's just it. They're not her own, and she wishes she had a family. I get it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t4Szoo1szoM/TW7lhvJ21FI/AAAAAAAAAUE/a83TUTOlqzc/s1600/Screenshot-717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8v3pRkXimHo/TW7liPe6ctI/AAAAAAAAAUI/1cqFb1jChsU/s1600/Screenshot-718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8v3pRkXimHo/TW7liPe6ctI/AAAAAAAAAUI/1cqFb1jChsU/s640/Screenshot-718.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "C'mon, I'll help you set up your profile," I said with a chuckle, giving her a playful nudge. "You don't want to seem too.... fake. You gotta be real, right? So write down what you know."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-I7MEa6EU19A/TW8G7F0dBYI/AAAAAAAAAUU/lz3iPoofR18/s1600/Screenshot-721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-I7MEa6EU19A/TW8G7F0dBYI/AAAAAAAAAUU/lz3iPoofR18/s640/Screenshot-721.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Write what you know.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">That sounds easy, right? Right. Write. Write what I know... I know... I know my... favorite pizza place! But who cares about that? Write about... my... my....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Shit.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This was gonna take a while.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-cwwnbGZqeGQ/TXADqwp8bjI/AAAAAAAAAUY/0TWbdD_sgtE/s1600/Screenshot-722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-cwwnbGZqeGQ/TXADqwp8bjI/AAAAAAAAAUY/0TWbdD_sgtE/s640/Screenshot-722.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I covered my head and typed a... very generalized description of me. Very vague. I stared at it for a while and almost went to change it, but shook it off and submitted it. My profile was made, and for right now, I didn't want to look at it. It was time for a distraction.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ne0l8OvUehc/TXJusdK7OTI/AAAAAAAAAUg/ST3Opc_gO_A/s1600/Screenshot-725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ne0l8OvUehc/TXJusdK7OTI/AAAAAAAAAUg/ST3Opc_gO_A/s640/Screenshot-725.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mom called.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She wanted to see the girls, and I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised, but I am. I mean, they're her grandchildren, why wouldn't she want to see them? I suppose I just figured that since I moved out on her, she would have some sort of grudge. Of course, I told her she could come over. I did have mixed feelings on it though, there was no way around that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I mean, it's not like I've forgotten.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The bad thing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-eVWXVb9XNoc/TXJuq5rAUAI/AAAAAAAAAUc/BHr-g60VKd0/s1600/Screenshot-723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-eVWXVb9XNoc/TXJuq5rAUAI/AAAAAAAAAUc/BHr-g60VKd0/s640/Screenshot-723.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">They had aged, it shocked me. But Dad still looked charming, and Mom had never seemed more stress-free. It warmed my heart to see them after so long, and I threw whatever concerns I had once had out the window. These were my parents.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-tDrG2AriMxs/TXJxm4K6B5I/AAAAAAAAAUk/rVcf1G1wzcg/s1600/Screenshot-727.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-tDrG2AriMxs/TXJxm4K6B5I/AAAAAAAAAUk/rVcf1G1wzcg/s640/Screenshot-727.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was awkward. I mean, I was living with Darian, and I was pretty sure Dad didn't approve of us living together and having kids without being married. I wanted to assure him that we would, but I don't know how keen Darian is on that, and I would hate to make him feel uncomfortable. They didn't even know Kayo, and she tried to be upbeat and cheerful, but they just didn't respond. So there I was, sitting between two of the most important people in my life, watching the two most important kids I will ever know, staring at two parents I wasn't even sure I knew.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ejKxSzyJGZ4/TXKuqp-26bI/AAAAAAAAAUo/XDeFzQrD_24/s1600/Screenshot-728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ejKxSzyJGZ4/TXKuqp-26bI/AAAAAAAAAUo/XDeFzQrD_24/s640/Screenshot-728.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Eventually, Mom broke the silence.<br />
"So what are your plans? For the girls?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-v3cEem6ncnY/TXKvj8KTeSI/AAAAAAAAAUs/J-be4vqvg3Y/s1600/Screenshot-729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-v3cEem6ncnY/TXKvj8KTeSI/AAAAAAAAAUs/J-be4vqvg3Y/s640/Screenshot-729.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"I, uh, I don't really know yet. I'm just going to... take care of them. What else can I do?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uzO2lPs0dI4/TXKwETq2DZI/AAAAAAAAAUw/yE7ENeDMCVk/s1600/Screenshot-730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uzO2lPs0dI4/TXKwETq2DZI/AAAAAAAAAUw/yE7ENeDMCVk/s640/Screenshot-730.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Well, a good mother usually makes plans for her children. You know, to make sure that everything goes well in their life. So you have no regrets. You <i>do</i> want to be a good mother, don't you?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-N9BjP5kyNvM/TXK1Sy2IhnI/AAAAAAAAAU0/GeuoeKy8RZs/s1600/Screenshot-731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-N9BjP5kyNvM/TXK1Sy2IhnI/AAAAAAAAAU0/GeuoeKy8RZs/s640/Screenshot-731.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"And what is that supposed to mean?!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qxwlhlqU8DE/TXK2Gf4oBpI/AAAAAAAAAU4/MLtjdVLHr3w/s1600/Screenshot-732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qxwlhlqU8DE/TXK2Gf4oBpI/AAAAAAAAAU4/MLtjdVLHr3w/s640/Screenshot-732.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"It means I want you to do better, Noel! These are your <i>kids</i>, and if my mother had been around to tell me that, I would have listened! I would have--"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Hm97RujQFkg/TXK3Jox4O9I/AAAAAAAAAU8/hidlbxmKktg/s1600/Screenshot-733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Hm97RujQFkg/TXK3Jox4O9I/AAAAAAAAAU8/hidlbxmKktg/s640/Screenshot-733.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"--I would have been a better mother."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-66809256448325338072011-02-13T20:30:00.000-08:002011-02-13T20:30:43.912-08:002.2<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yqph3pSO5ak/TVio-jHKSNI/AAAAAAAAARc/PvEahQQlnMQ/s1600/Screenshot-654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yqph3pSO5ak/TVio-jHKSNI/AAAAAAAAARc/PvEahQQlnMQ/s640/Screenshot-654.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Ohhh!" Kayo swooned. "I can hardly wait!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6izToBXsbKM/TVio_CdKZ0I/AAAAAAAAARg/nbXY9vO9ssg/s1600/Screenshot-655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6izToBXsbKM/TVio_CdKZ0I/AAAAAAAAARg/nbXY9vO9ssg/s640/Screenshot-655.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Oh, Noel, you won't regret it! No you won't! I can already see it, it's going to be so perfect!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1_teaXfZ0vY/TVipAPfNDhI/AAAAAAAAARo/yObn0XS7DJE/s1600/Screenshot-658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1_teaXfZ0vY/TVipAPfNDhI/AAAAAAAAARo/yObn0XS7DJE/s640/Screenshot-658.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Oh, I'm just so happy for you! And Darian, too, he's such a sweetheart, he really is...."</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I'm sure you'll do a great job, Kayo. You know I wouldn't pick just anyone to decorate this room. My decorating skills aren't quite up to par," I said, nudging her playfully in the arm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kWAVhQss-hc/TVio_og4UMI/AAAAAAAAARk/YrmCuPAxYsk/s1600/Screenshot-657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kWAVhQss-hc/TVio_og4UMI/AAAAAAAAARk/YrmCuPAxYsk/s640/Screenshot-657.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> So you're probably wondering what's got Kayo in super spazz mode. Well, it all started one morning when I was getting ready to zoom off for work, and I wasn't feeling quite right. Not right at all.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-leTcJhYc2LA/TVipAxL7enI/AAAAAAAAARs/vJODia5V7eo/s1600/Screenshot-659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-leTcJhYc2LA/TVipAxL7enI/AAAAAAAAARs/vJODia5V7eo/s640/Screenshot-659.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> I passed it off as just a stomach bug or something, I mean, what else could it be, right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pTv-YGRtHU8/TVipCCErw-I/AAAAAAAAAR4/qbiVZDA66vk/s1600/Screenshot-662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pTv-YGRtHU8/TVipCCErw-I/AAAAAAAAAR4/qbiVZDA66vk/s640/Screenshot-662.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wrong. Before I knew it, my belly was expanding, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Were Darian and I even ready for kids? We weren't even married, for plumbob's sake. I knew Kayo would help, of course, she was basically like a sister to me by now. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fU66rfiP1A/TVipDD8WSyI/AAAAAAAAASA/S7-OQbwSo4A/s1600/Screenshot-664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fU66rfiP1A/TVipDD8WSyI/AAAAAAAAASA/S7-OQbwSo4A/s640/Screenshot-664.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A5_eKeZ8I8w/TVipCgMLC8I/AAAAAAAAAR8/h_eAc48YREQ/s1600/Screenshot-663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A5_eKeZ8I8w/TVipCgMLC8I/AAAAAAAAAR8/h_eAc48YREQ/s640/Screenshot-663.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Surprisingly, no one else shared my anxiety. Darian was constantly talking to my belly, and Kayo was fascinated with the baby. I think she may even want a child herself now. Good Plumbob. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eecxRF70qeM/TVis0KEfnhI/AAAAAAAAASg/_hf-xNaw87E/s1600/Screenshot-660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eecxRF70qeM/TVis0KEfnhI/AAAAAAAAASg/_hf-xNaw87E/s320/Screenshot-660.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Kayo had me reading pregnancy books out my rear as well, which I absolutely hated her for. I had never liked reading, never, but she was bound and determined to get me educated. I guess it's not a bad thing, really, but couldn't I have watched a video or something? I think my eyes are burning...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OeAmA6844PI/TVipBmsuG1I/AAAAAAAAAR0/csgX57RcuR4/s1600/Screenshot-661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OeAmA6844PI/TVipBmsuG1I/AAAAAAAAAR0/csgX57RcuR4/s640/Screenshot-661.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Somewhere along the line, Kayo decided she would like to pick up a career in music. Darian took her to the guitar shop, and it wasn't long before she brought home a brand new guitar. She instantly fell in love with it, and was oohing and ahhing with the music Darian was teaching her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I should play this song to your belly! Do you think the baby would like that?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Plumbob, I love that woman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M-BL1m5rFFA/TVipDi_LVXI/AAAAAAAAASE/aoRjlsNjABQ/s1600/Screenshot-665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M-BL1m5rFFA/TVipDi_LVXI/AAAAAAAAASE/aoRjlsNjABQ/s640/Screenshot-665.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I guess I should have seen Kayo and Darian's jam sessions coming a long time ago, but the thought never even crossed my mind. They play pretty much all the time, and even when I try to sleep.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Persistence, I suppose, but geezus.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wgGFMS3XSPI/TVipEV13N8I/AAAAAAAAASI/NHg2V9v2MmU/s1600/Screenshot-666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wgGFMS3XSPI/TVipEV13N8I/AAAAAAAAASI/NHg2V9v2MmU/s400/Screenshot-666.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
I guess all that mess was worth it in the end, when I gave birth to not one, but two healthy baby girls. In the exact order that they were born, I give you Annabelle Vegas, who seems to be quite the clumsy lunatic. . .<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GThdmVvteig/TVipE6E6bbI/AAAAAAAAASM/v5O9a7_v0cM/s1600/Screenshot-667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GThdmVvteig/TVipE6E6bbI/AAAAAAAAASM/v5O9a7_v0cM/s400/Screenshot-667.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">. . . and Marie Vegas, my little neurotic artist. Annabelle looks like she'll grow up to look a lot like me, and my mother. I'm glad for that, it's a healthy reminder of my lovely mother. Marie obviously has a strong resemblance with Darian, what with her brown hair and deep silver eyes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NifAAc2eNvI/TVipFVqDQ7I/AAAAAAAAASQ/iwWSna7BibY/s1600/Screenshot-668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NifAAc2eNvI/TVipFVqDQ7I/AAAAAAAAASQ/iwWSna7BibY/s640/Screenshot-668.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> As I knew she would, Kayo decorated the twin's room marvelously. It was so adorable, I knew it was just perfect for my girls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H28Z4-KsKlY/TVipFy0n6tI/AAAAAAAAASU/tdk2tOKo2nw/s1600/Screenshot-669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H28Z4-KsKlY/TVipFy0n6tI/AAAAAAAAASU/tdk2tOKo2nw/s640/Screenshot-669.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> My girls. They were so beautiful, in each and every way possible. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uOTOLDSWTRY/TVipGOKJp9I/AAAAAAAAASY/bdn-d3qAnpY/s1600/Screenshot-670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uOTOLDSWTRY/TVipGOKJp9I/AAAAAAAAASY/bdn-d3qAnpY/s640/Screenshot-670.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AcRl6Bcv5IQ/TVipGlF9C7I/AAAAAAAAASc/26hMgmopUGc/s1600/Screenshot-671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AcRl6Bcv5IQ/TVipGlF9C7I/AAAAAAAAASc/26hMgmopUGc/s640/Screenshot-671.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I had the best, sweetest family a girl could ask for. What more could I want?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-19394883632029479032011-02-12T12:38:00.000-08:002011-02-12T12:44:21.145-08:002.1<div style="text-align: center;"><i>The stars lean down to kiss you,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And I lie awake and miss you,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Cuz I'll dose off safe and soundly,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>But I'll miss your arms around me,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'd send a postcard to ya, dear,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Cuz I wish you were here!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6hNE-tO0a4U/TVbkYJF0LSI/AAAAAAAAAQc/wckb-lcLiGw/s1600/Screenshot-623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6hNE-tO0a4U/TVbkYJF0LSI/AAAAAAAAAQc/wckb-lcLiGw/s640/Screenshot-623.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Say hello to my cousin, Kayo. Kayo's a bit quirky and fun, I've heard, and I sure hope it's true as I'll be living here with her. I left Bridgeport and my family behind in search for a more quiet life, and even though my mother begged me to continue our legacy where it began, I knew I couldn't stay there any longer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zFoyGK3tHQs/TVbkZ202wcI/AAAAAAAAAQg/1LWg7cfqcR8/s1600/Screenshot-625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zFoyGK3tHQs/TVbkZ202wcI/AAAAAAAAAQg/1LWg7cfqcR8/s640/Screenshot-625.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is the lovely apartment complex she lives in. It looks so traditional and cozy, I could see myself living here for a good amount of time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2CG31Sa680/TVbkbRE7y7I/AAAAAAAAAQk/59hVeWNjPuY/s1600/Screenshot-627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2CG31Sa680/TVbkbRE7y7I/AAAAAAAAAQk/59hVeWNjPuY/s640/Screenshot-627.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Kayo had decorated the apartment, of course, to her tastes, it being her home. I was in love with what she had done to it, it was so much different from my mother's style. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDw0_2Qtu-8/TVbqEVnTjOI/AAAAAAAAARM/9nHThSKjepc/s1600/Screenshot-648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDw0_2Qtu-8/TVbqEVnTjOI/AAAAAAAAARM/9nHThSKjepc/s640/Screenshot-648.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">She let me decorate my own room, for which I was grateful for. I kept the green I had in my room ever since I could remember, with my music CD's and magazines lying all over the place. It was a big mess, but for me, it was a pretty organized mess. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8vCiV31RGCo/TVbkcmvSP8I/AAAAAAAAAQo/V3Chs1BDo-U/s1600/Screenshot-632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8vCiV31RGCo/TVbkcmvSP8I/AAAAAAAAAQo/V3Chs1BDo-U/s640/Screenshot-632.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "So," Kayo said enthusiastically, "Have any thoughts on what you wanna do now that you're here?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ebXaNOOYov4/TVbkdWoSxSI/AAAAAAAAAQs/uqI_0Ziv9t8/s1600/Screenshot-634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ebXaNOOYov4/TVbkdWoSxSI/AAAAAAAAAQs/uqI_0Ziv9t8/s640/Screenshot-634.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Not real sure. I think being a cop would be pretty fun."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8j3t3gCEwc0/TVbke6If0NI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/ZwHfxfLC6eM/s1600/Screenshot-636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8j3t3gCEwc0/TVbke6If0NI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/ZwHfxfLC6eM/s640/Screenshot-636.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Well, Riverview's a pretty sleepy town," Kayo pointed out. "I know a guy that works there, it shouldn't be hard to get you that job."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WdBK-zNctW4/TVbkeDrQzZI/AAAAAAAAAQw/UgDU-cYRcZg/s1600/Screenshot-635.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WdBK-zNctW4/TVbkeDrQzZI/AAAAAAAAAQw/UgDU-cYRcZg/s640/Screenshot-635.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "That'd be great, Kayo. I really appreciate it."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cgF2FEQ0GZU/TVbkfuUz4TI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/WO5iHdcsoLc/s1600/Screenshot-638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cgF2FEQ0GZU/TVbkfuUz4TI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/WO5iHdcsoLc/s640/Screenshot-638.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "You're gonna really love me after you see who I brought over!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pys8bNTPlRk/TVbtHi0Ku_I/AAAAAAAAARQ/OD75gfijlWU/s1600/Screenshot-649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pys8bNTPlRk/TVbtHi0Ku_I/AAAAAAAAARQ/OD75gfijlWU/s640/Screenshot-649.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">She led me over to the front of the apartment, giggling with excitement. I practically had to run to keep up with her.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-khlQ2-5TfiI/TVbkgDD_DUI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/PPwG3NTnEjY/s1600/Screenshot-641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-khlQ2-5TfiI/TVbkgDD_DUI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/PPwG3NTnEjY/s640/Screenshot-641.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And there, standing right in front of me, of was Darian. I never thought I would see him again, and he looked so much older! I nearly squealed at the sight of him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TirBGuZo79E/TVbuxszV_7I/AAAAAAAAARU/jiCpyVKu6Ho/s1600/Screenshot-650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TirBGuZo79E/TVbuxszV_7I/AAAAAAAAARU/jiCpyVKu6Ho/s640/Screenshot-650.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Oh, I just knew you'd love it! I just knew it!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YkQhUGimOSg/TVbkgpa6oyI/AAAAAAAAARA/m_tIQkWPdnw/s1600/Screenshot-643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YkQhUGimOSg/TVbkgpa6oyI/AAAAAAAAARA/m_tIQkWPdnw/s640/Screenshot-643.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And I did. I loved it. He smiled at me and said, "Noel, come here outside, I'd like to talk with you."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oAUGdVnQMKQ/TVbkhGenRRI/AAAAAAAAARE/yl39v6Jum80/s1600/Screenshot-646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oAUGdVnQMKQ/TVbkhGenRRI/AAAAAAAAARE/yl39v6Jum80/s640/Screenshot-646.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> But there was never any talking.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRoySngLq5A/TVbkiVXrbdI/AAAAAAAAARI/sH66RcnOkpM/s1600/Screenshot-647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRoySngLq5A/TVbkiVXrbdI/AAAAAAAAARI/sH66RcnOkpM/s640/Screenshot-647.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> What Darian had rejected me with all of my teen years, he had finally accepted now. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-27100808755830404712011-01-29T21:44:00.000-08:002011-02-12T12:00:51.377-08:001.11// HEIR VOTE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT33NcU3BI/AAAAAAAAAPw/D-D3uZmGi6k/s1600/Screenshot-584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT33NcU3BI/AAAAAAAAAPw/D-D3uZmGi6k/s640/Screenshot-584.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I should have known he would come to me in my sleep. It should have been a given.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT33rE6l6I/AAAAAAAAAP0/lQXP0SoN89M/s1600/Screenshot-585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT33rE6l6I/AAAAAAAAAP0/lQXP0SoN89M/s640/Screenshot-585.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> In my dream, there was virtually nothing, just a large expanse of complete nothingness. I looked about frightened; the dream was all too vivid for it to possibly be a dream.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT33_58JgI/AAAAAAAAAP4/OK7JCF-pvfo/s1600/Screenshot-586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT33_58JgI/AAAAAAAAAP4/OK7JCF-pvfo/s640/Screenshot-586.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Whilst I was thinking these thoughts, before my eyes from the nothingness appeared Brian. Ghastly and crude.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT34GFxuEI/AAAAAAAAAP8/Mp-iyRG_XSY/s1600/Screenshot-587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT34GFxuEI/AAAAAAAAAP8/Mp-iyRG_XSY/s640/Screenshot-587.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "You did this to me!" He declared. "I had a whole future ahead of me. And now I'm dead. <i>All because of you."</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">I stared into his white eyes and said, "I know. I know it, and I'm so terribly sorry, Brian."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"<i>Sorry?! You're sorry?! Well that's just great. You're sorry, and I'm dead. Seems like a great deal to me."</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Brian... really. I am. But you can't do this this. I have kids uphold. They can't know what I've done."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT5bKM9isI/AAAAAAAAAQU/wXcYulJozzE/s1600/Screenshot-588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT5bKM9isI/AAAAAAAAAQU/wXcYulJozzE/s640/Screenshot-588.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Maddi," he began. "I didn't come here to argue with you. I came here to end this. Permanently. I know I'm dead, and anything I do won't change that. Besides, I would never cause any harm to you, and especially not to your family. I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you. I really do."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT34rrV1qI/AAAAAAAAAQA/qbobYQmKNwA/s1600/Screenshot-591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT34rrV1qI/AAAAAAAAAQA/qbobYQmKNwA/s640/Screenshot-591.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"I really am sorry, Brian."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT349k6AII/AAAAAAAAAQE/1fMmKzKsiSE/s1600/Screenshot-592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT349k6AII/AAAAAAAAAQE/1fMmKzKsiSE/s640/Screenshot-592.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>"I know..."</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT35fokmnI/AAAAAAAAAQI/2in6KHtFoB8/s1600/Screenshot-593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT35fokmnI/AAAAAAAAAQI/2in6KHtFoB8/s640/Screenshot-593.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I awoke feeling mentally, emotionally, and physically drained. Indeed, I felt better, as if The Voices had finally lifted from me. As if so much burden had been lifted from me.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT36JOobSI/AAAAAAAAAQM/PzwlOy-hqaQ/s1600/Screenshot-594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TUT36JOobSI/AAAAAAAAAQM/PzwlOy-hqaQ/s640/Screenshot-594.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But where would it head?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hiya there, folks. I know, it was a shortie, but I really wanted to wrap this generation up. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Heir vote can be found <a href="http://forum.thesims3.com/jforum/posts/list/0/335295.page#4562037">here</a>.</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-12430811036160268602011-01-13T18:00:00.000-08:002011-02-12T12:00:09.814-08:001.10<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-lB_3kqzI/AAAAAAAAAOU/PSsNvUxt5cs/s640/Screenshot-484.jpg" width="640" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Everything was beginning to go back to normal. The voices had suppressed to a considerable degree, and our financial situation was definitely getting a lot better.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-lpclWb6I/AAAAAAAAAOY/o1c3SL9yVX8/s1600/Screenshot-487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-lpclWb6I/AAAAAAAAAOY/o1c3SL9yVX8/s640/Screenshot-487.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was getting to spend a lot more time with my Levi, and I found myself falling head over heels in love with him all over again. I forgot how sweet he was, how blue his eyes were, how soothing it was to be in his arms. It was certainly a turn for the better. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-mLT8X1YI/AAAAAAAAAOc/PVh5IBsDL4g/s1600/Screenshot-495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-mLT8X1YI/AAAAAAAAAOc/PVh5IBsDL4g/s640/Screenshot-495.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was getting to be a bigger part in Noel's life, helping her with her homework and such, and she was even warming up to me to the point that she would tell me problems she had at school; drama with girls, drama with boys, and crushes. Typical teenage babble, but I loved that she felt I needed to know. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-mo6Kz6JI/AAAAAAAAAOg/3E_Bnq7BXaQ/s1600/Screenshot-519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-mo6Kz6JI/AAAAAAAAAOg/3E_Bnq7BXaQ/s640/Screenshot-519.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The music industry had given Levi his job back, and I was glad for that, as no progress had been made on his supposed band with Tristan. It was nice to hear his music throughout the house again; it uplifted the mood with everyone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-nAk6xvOI/AAAAAAAAAOk/HrIvXQv2Gec/s1600/Screenshot-520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-nAk6xvOI/AAAAAAAAAOk/HrIvXQv2Gec/s640/Screenshot-520.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had to get rid of the maid, however, because A.) he was doing a terrible job, B.) we couldn't really afford it anyway, and C.) I think Levi just wanted to. It was actually quite humorous watching him chew the poor man out, and the maid left in a huff. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-npcR9woI/AAAAAAAAAOo/pjOfljvaYQY/s1600/Screenshot-522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-npcR9woI/AAAAAAAAAOo/pjOfljvaYQY/s640/Screenshot-522.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But life always rears its ugly head at you, making you crash land into your worse possible disaster. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And my worst possible disaster? Why, it was sitting at my dinner table.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-n4T2c12I/AAAAAAAAAOs/RIEMbYlwOk8/s1600/Screenshot-521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-n4T2c12I/AAAAAAAAAOs/RIEMbYlwOk8/s640/Screenshot-521.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Brian. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There he was, a ghost. I'd see him before, but he was gone as soon as I had seen him, and I convinced myself it couldn't possibly be true. He was dead.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, he was dead alright. Dead, dead, dead, and ready for revenge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-oSpcdToI/AAAAAAAAAOw/hfhI9pQ4w44/s1600/Screenshot-523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-oSpcdToI/AAAAAAAAAOw/hfhI9pQ4w44/s640/Screenshot-523.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The funny thing is, no one else seemed to see him. Just me. Just me and Dead. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dead, dead, dead!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>But no, </i>the voice cackled, <i>he is still very...very much alive. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-opJSpNkI/AAAAAAAAAO0/XSLIzKsfRm8/s1600/Screenshot-524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-opJSpNkI/AAAAAAAAAO0/XSLIzKsfRm8/s640/Screenshot-524.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No, no, no, no! I thought. I suddenly felt quite sick to my stomach, and my head was pounding to hard I felt it was to explode at any given moment. This isn't real, I thought. Brian's dead! He's been dead for weeks now! WEEKS. Ghosts don't exist. Brian doesn't exist. What do you have to fear! Go to bed... go to sleep! You'll have forgotten this by morning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Oh no you won't, </i>the voice whispered, <i>Brian's not dead. Still very much alive!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-pO_eSbRI/AAAAAAAAAO4/TbtxcavkDRA/s1600/Screenshot-526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-pO_eSbRI/AAAAAAAAAO4/TbtxcavkDRA/s640/Screenshot-526.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-pfdcMlbI/AAAAAAAAAO8/U_lWix0K3mw/s1600/Screenshot-527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-pfdcMlbI/AAAAAAAAAO8/U_lWix0K3mw/s640/Screenshot-527.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But the voices were always right. Occasionally, I would see an arm sticking through a wall, or a floating figure in the corner of my eye. He hasn't approached me, and I don't know if it's because he isn't strong enough to see me yet, or he has just chose not to, but since this is so, I'm ignoring him. And as far as I am concerned, Brian the Ghost here doesn't exist.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Couldn't exist. Because Brian never did. And Ghosts never did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And these... dammed... voices.... don't either. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-qyjpA5FI/AAAAAAAAAPA/VgIyX1IhQf4/s1600/Screenshot-529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-qyjpA5FI/AAAAAAAAAPA/VgIyX1IhQf4/s640/Screenshot-529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had more important things to look over. Like the possibility of Noel's first boyfriend. He was a sweet guy named Darian, and he had lived in Bridgeport his whole life. I recall hearing his name once when talking with Noel, but I had never actually met him until Noel asked him to dinner one night. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-rNU6nPjI/AAAAAAAAAPE/etGsroDVvXE/s1600/Screenshot-531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-rNU6nPjI/AAAAAAAAAPE/etGsroDVvXE/s640/Screenshot-531.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-rOEGtxbI/AAAAAAAAAPI/8jfg1TzjdvE/s1600/Screenshot-532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-rOEGtxbI/AAAAAAAAAPI/8jfg1TzjdvE/s640/Screenshot-532.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What I called a "date" and Noel called "just hanging out" started out friendly enough, but boys will be boys and girls will be girls, and we all know that sooner or later that "just friends" boundary breaks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-rjbxD1VI/AAAAAAAAAPM/NmVr88IWtAY/s1600/Screenshot-533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-rjbxD1VI/AAAAAAAAAPM/NmVr88IWtAY/s640/Screenshot-533.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Noel urged that she eat alone with Darian, and I gave her that wish, though Levi and I did some eavesdropping....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">... and we learned that Noel's got quite the skill in flirting. I was in dreamland, I was so excited. Levi however, was a bit opposite, and grumbled that she was much too young to be talking to boys.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-sHhnb9BI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/dtZncVj2wPE/s1600/Screenshot-534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-sHhnb9BI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/dtZncVj2wPE/s640/Screenshot-534.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Face-making gave way to hand-holding, and I decided to stop eavesdropping for now and leave the girl alone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><i>NOEL'S POINT OF VIEW...</i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-sozoEk4I/AAAAAAAAAPU/oflf4dsl-W4/s1600/Screenshot-535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-sozoEk4I/AAAAAAAAAPU/oflf4dsl-W4/s640/Screenshot-535.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-spn0HxtI/AAAAAAAAAPY/TBCrxP9JgKo/s1600/Screenshot-536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-spn0HxtI/AAAAAAAAAPY/TBCrxP9JgKo/s640/Screenshot-536.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I led Darian outside, as he was telling me he had to leave soon. I didn't want the night to end! Besides, I knew Darian wasn't going to be the one to make the first move--I was going to have to do it, and boy was I scared to death.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-s8kMWxZI/AAAAAAAAAPc/OXJ26dTpxdQ/s1600/Screenshot-537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-s8kMWxZI/AAAAAAAAAPc/OXJ26dTpxdQ/s640/Screenshot-537.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-tIAASzxI/AAAAAAAAAPg/VxefWme7sVQ/s1600/Screenshot-539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-tIAASzxI/AAAAAAAAAPg/VxefWme7sVQ/s640/Screenshot-539.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One look at that face made my decision. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-tTqV8b9I/AAAAAAAAAPk/-elNb0iMGq8/s1600/Screenshot-540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TS-tTqV8b9I/AAAAAAAAAPk/-elNb0iMGq8/s640/Screenshot-540.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled me back and told me that he wasn't ready for that yet. Boy, did that kill me.... I mumbled my goodbyes and he gave me one last smile before hopping into his car and driving off.</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-64202834111920481512011-01-09T20:12:00.000-08:002011-01-09T20:12:07.988-08:00"What! This is not chapta!"Yes, yes, I know. :)<br />
<br />
What I have to say is related to the poll.<br />
<br />
I have noticed that you say the chapters are short, and I'm working on that.<br />
<br />
What I need to know is: How much longer do you want them?<br />
<br />
Simple question, eh? M'kay. =DCrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-8292791242356995612011-01-07T21:40:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:59:16.982-08:001.9<div style="text-align: center;"><i>♫ On the first page of our story,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The future seemed so bright,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Then this thing turned out... so evil,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I don't know why I'm still surprised,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Even angels have their wicked schemes,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And you take that to new extremes,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>But you'll always be my hero,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Even though you've lost your mind. ♫</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf0KY6deMI/AAAAAAAAANo/h8VqncaXhDA/s1600/Screenshot-456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf0KY6deMI/AAAAAAAAANo/h8VqncaXhDA/s640/Screenshot-456.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Levi was such a good father. But we were both too old for this--and the proof was written in the tight grooves and lines on our faces. Nonetheless, I looked forward to little Pika or little Annabelle--we still didn't know if the baby was a boy or a girl, and we were bound to keep that a mystery until the birth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf0jwYv8vI/AAAAAAAAANs/PSBwWc3HB0Y/s1600/Screenshot-458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf0jwYv8vI/AAAAAAAAANs/PSBwWc3HB0Y/s640/Screenshot-458.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was blessed with Pika, who was incredibly friendly, even at such a young age, and astoundingly intelligent. He was Levi's boy, that was for sure. Each look at his face broke my heart, because I knew that our kids were photocopies of our formal selves. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf1HRUOTyI/AAAAAAAAANw/IE_2IiD29uw/s1600/Screenshot-470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf1HRUOTyI/AAAAAAAAANw/IE_2IiD29uw/s640/Screenshot-470.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I would often wake up in the middle of the night, tears emblazoned on my cheek, my heart racing, for I had a dream that Levi or Noel had discovered my (<i>terrible terrible oh so terrible) </i>secret. But of course, that was absurd. No person in their right minds would stick around knowing their mother or wife was a murderer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Crazy talk. (<i>CRAZY, isn't that what you are just a tad bit crazy)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf1tENErJI/AAAAAAAAAN0/UD0cDVuCiLY/s1600/Screenshot-462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf1tENErJI/AAAAAAAAAN0/UD0cDVuCiLY/s640/Screenshot-462.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Crazy talk.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Besides, it was Noel's birthday, my darling little Noel, and I needed to forget (<i>forget forget you'll NEVER forget) </i>all of that and focus on my little girl.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Not that she was my little girl anymore.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No, once the candles on that cake were extinguished, she would no longer be my little girl, but well on her way to being a grown woman (<i>a grown woman would you look at that what if she's a failure a failure like you)</i> and I know she'll do great things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I know that. Don't I?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf2VrPgtcI/AAAAAAAAAN4/h7HvDpcBwBI/s1600/Screenshot-463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf2VrPgtcI/AAAAAAAAAN4/h7HvDpcBwBI/s640/Screenshot-463.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Silly girl was so exited--she was sick of being the kid.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She wanted to be the woman. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A great woman, right? (<i>a great woman a fantastic woman she'll be just like you she'll kill she will)</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I.. have... nothing... to fear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf3PYPDwHI/AAAAAAAAAN8/LifguZKLnm4/s1600/Screenshot-465.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf3PYPDwHI/AAAAAAAAAN8/LifguZKLnm4/s640/Screenshot-465.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love this picture. My kids, one thing I ACCOMPLISHED something I can be PROUD of (<i>can you can you really are you sure I don't think you are) </i>and I <i>need them. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I need them... I need them because... I'm going insane. I'm sure of it. I can't think straight, and I keep hearing<i>.... </i>(<i>those dammed voices those cursed things get them OUT)</i><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf315FlTiI/AAAAAAAAAOA/lVHSGbjEnc0/s1600/Screenshot-466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSf315FlTiI/AAAAAAAAAOA/lVHSGbjEnc0/s640/Screenshot-466.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But every time I see their faces it eases a little, let's off the pain a little, let's me breathe a little. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've never seen two kids get along so well. They never fight, and when I'm not feeling very well <i>(not FEELING very well more like insane that's what you are you don't know who you are do you no you don't) </i>and sweet Levi is working hard with the band Noel will take care of him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And he loves his sister.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, and one more thing before this is over.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think I saw Brian the other day. Drifting through the kitchen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But it was probably just a hallucination.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because I'm crazy. Right? </div><i><br />
</i></div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-19925853982149122362011-01-01T21:32:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:58:40.692-08:001.8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKkSjy1pI/AAAAAAAAAM8/isZP52hvYL4/s1600/Screenshot-430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKkSjy1pI/AAAAAAAAAM8/isZP52hvYL4/s640/Screenshot-430.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>I was doing my homework one night. Nothing out of the ordinary, it's what I did, every night, right after Mommy went to work. I don't know exactly what she does, because every time I ask Daddy he tells me it's none of my beeswax, sister Suzy. But that's beside the point. The fact of the matter is is that this was no regular night. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>And it all started with a loud thud from upstairs.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKi-AH5QI/AAAAAAAAAM4/uNtz35bnrjA/s1600/Screenshot-429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKi-AH5QI/AAAAAAAAAM4/uNtz35bnrjA/s640/Screenshot-429.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Daddy was int the same room with me, and he had heard it too. In fear that someone may be robbing us, we hurried along upstairs.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKlrlX_0I/AAAAAAAAANA/PF8AdpDkANY/s1600/Screenshot-431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKlrlX_0I/AAAAAAAAANA/PF8AdpDkANY/s640/Screenshot-431.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i> Daddy told me not to worry, and that one of my toys must have fallen on the floor or something.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>But I really wasn't that dumb. Someone (or someTHING) was up there, and I was going to find out exactly what it was. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKm3hGFrI/AAAAAAAAANE/siqQTNlXews/s1600/Screenshot-432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKm3hGFrI/AAAAAAAAANE/siqQTNlXews/s640/Screenshot-432.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>I told Daddy that the noise had come from this wall, perhaps behind it. Daddy said that is was absurd, which he explained meant unlikely, that anything could be behind that wall. But I was persistent. I knew something was there.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKnqWMrNI/AAAAAAAAANI/PRMQtHSRJT4/s1600/Screenshot-433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKnqWMrNI/AAAAAAAAANI/PRMQtHSRJT4/s640/Screenshot-433.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>To calm me down, he investigated the wall, like a secret switch might be there or something, like Shaggy and Scooby find. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sure enough, someone was there.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAMNUAufTI/AAAAAAAAANU/kkXgEiOSo_8/s1600/Screenshot-426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAMNUAufTI/AAAAAAAAANU/kkXgEiOSo_8/s640/Screenshot-426.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Dead. I didn't know who this man was, but the look of </i>understanding <i>on Daddy's face was undeniable. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"Noel Symphony Vegas. Listen to me. This man was.... and old friend of Mommy's. I don't think you're very stupid, I believe you know </i>exactly<i> what has occurred here." Daddy paused here to take a deep breath. I knew exactly what had happened, just as he said. Mommy killed this man. "We can under NO circumstances tell ANYONE about this man. We have to protect Mommy, do you understand?"</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I nodded, mostly in fear, I was willing to do anything to put this behind us and for me to forget all about it.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKhfuLtfI/AAAAAAAAAM0/oDhim3gY5c4/s1600/Screenshot-428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKhfuLtfI/AAAAAAAAAM0/oDhim3gY5c4/s640/Screenshot-428.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>My heart hurt. And it hurt for three people; Mommy, because she had killed a man, and would probably get into lots of trouble, 'cause that's a bad thing. A very bad thing. Daddy, because he had to live his life knowing that his wife was a blood thirsty murderer. But I hated to think of her that way. She was my Mommy after all, and she really wasn't that cynical... with anyone else. And then this man, for losing his life at such a young age. He couldn't be much further then thirty. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My poor Mommy.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My poor Daddy.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Poor... poor man. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKo8q_VBI/AAAAAAAAANM/mcqmKBPkfrc/s1600/Screenshot-434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TSAKo8q_VBI/AAAAAAAAANM/mcqmKBPkfrc/s640/Screenshot-434.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>I refused to change the way I looked at my mother. I still loved her throughout every inch of my heart, perhaps even more so after this. I would protect her. I wouldn't let her get into trouble for what she did.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Even though it was a Bad Thing.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A Very Bad Thing. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-65241619660242265472010-12-15T11:52:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:58:15.208-08:001.7<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXoZrK0pI/AAAAAAAAAMU/hgxtsoziCtI/s1600/Screenshot-409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXoZrK0pI/AAAAAAAAAMU/hgxtsoziCtI/s640/Screenshot-409.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm afraid that your eyes don't deceive you. I am older--Levi is older--and it seems that not years are furthering the aging process, but the life around us. It was all so busy, hectic, and demaninding, and there were few things keeping me grounded at the moment. One of those things were my family.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXqbukhAI/AAAAAAAAAMY/OihV3cGHXIE/s1600/Screenshot-410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXqbukhAI/AAAAAAAAAMY/OihV3cGHXIE/s640/Screenshot-410.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> A few days ago, Levi confessed to me that he was fired--had been fired. Oh boy, was I angry. Why didn't he just tell me? No, instead he decided he didn't need the music industry to help him with his dreams. He told me had it all planned out. He and my brother, he claimed, were started a band called the Infiltrators, and he would manage it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But he wasn't the only one having career difficulties.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXrvwCAgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/p-wYWE0Q0Bc/s1600/Screenshot-411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXrvwCAgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/p-wYWE0Q0Bc/s640/Screenshot-411.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">That night I had been demoted. Pay decreased and work hours maximized. We were already barely able to pay the bills.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But that wasn't the only shocker. I had also found out I was pregnant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkaVwt0OAI/AAAAAAAAAMo/v0fkNqHB0Bk/s1600/Screenshot-412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkaVwt0OAI/AAAAAAAAAMo/v0fkNqHB0Bk/s640/Screenshot-412.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And it was all to much. I broke down, right then. I was frustrated. Frustrated that I couldn't help. Couldn't provide a decent home for my little Noel and my future child. Frustrated that I couldn't do anything right. Frustrated, because Levi deserved so much better than me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>My dear Noel. Could it already be that time? As she blew her candles, I made a silent wish for my children. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXl13I_KI/AAAAAAAAAMM/8RsQxl0tEoo/s1600/Screenshot-407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXl13I_KI/AAAAAAAAAMM/8RsQxl0tEoo/s640/Screenshot-407.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>May you grow up and prosper. Forgive Mommy. Forgive Daddy. I promise you we did our best. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXl13I_KI/AAAAAAAAAMM/8RsQxl0tEoo/s1600/Screenshot-407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXkJ2FeEI/AAAAAAAAAMI/PrPgZtenn5U/s1600/Screenshot-406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXkJ2FeEI/AAAAAAAAAMI/PrPgZtenn5U/s640/Screenshot-406.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> She gave one last dazzling smile to her father, and she was no longer my little Noel, but a woman to be.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXnFJf6vI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/qF01WVpOcmQ/s1600/Screenshot-408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkXnFJf6vI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/qF01WVpOcmQ/s640/Screenshot-408.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> She liked to spend a lot of time in her room. For hours, she would just sit there, and I wondered what she thought about. She was definitely a deep thinker--it took a lot to get her out of those frequent spells.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkb1uWMYQI/AAAAAAAAAMs/iCnDcO6b7io/s1600/Screenshot-413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkb1uWMYQI/AAAAAAAAAMs/iCnDcO6b7io/s640/Screenshot-413.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I saw so much of her parents in her face. She reminded me of myself when I was her age-- young, carefree, and loving. So why then, when I looked at her, all I wanted to do was cry? </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkX38FEKpI/AAAAAAAAAMk/ypBFiKXocvU/s1600/Screenshot-389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TQkX38FEKpI/AAAAAAAAAMk/ypBFiKXocvU/s640/Screenshot-389.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I did mention there were a few things that kept me grounded did I not? Well Brian here provided me means to express the evil side of me--the side that clawed so angrily to get out.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Was it murder, what I was trying to do? Probably. But Noel would never know, and Levi would never know, and he was simply my source of entertainment for now. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I predict him dead by nightfall. </div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-19535753101010423302010-12-05T15:24:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:57:37.551-08:001.6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcPkP560I/AAAAAAAAALk/oqr8oi6IiZE/s1600/Screenshot-379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcPkP560I/AAAAAAAAALk/oqr8oi6IiZE/s640/Screenshot-379.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I never really cared to have a family. I had always told myself that I would be fine riding solo, and I didn't need anyone to support me. I thought Levi proved that wrong, but it wasn't him that proved it to me. It was Noel. My precious Noel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcQxRnEkI/AAAAAAAAALo/QLugsDCcXqQ/s1600/Screenshot-380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcQxRnEkI/AAAAAAAAALo/QLugsDCcXqQ/s640/Screenshot-380.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Babies had forever seemed disgusting too me, and they always seemed to cry too much. But everything she did made my heart melt. To the way she ate, to the way she spoke complete nonsense, even to the way she cried.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcSSdT8OI/AAAAAAAAALs/P86A_Uf0_hU/s1600/Screenshot-381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcSSdT8OI/AAAAAAAAALs/P86A_Uf0_hU/s640/Screenshot-381.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes, I just stared at her in complete admiration. She seemed to be my carbon copy, except for the fact that she had her father's skintone. She was a heavy little sleeper, which I suppose was good for us. She slept all night, and most of the morning. Not only that, but she was also very brave. She was already beginning to walk, and was getting into everything around the house.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcU1w10NI/AAAAAAAAAL0/t9z9BqAfN6U/s1600/Screenshot-384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcU1w10NI/AAAAAAAAAL0/t9z9BqAfN6U/s640/Screenshot-384.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Levi thought Noel was simply a delight. When he wasn't working, he was ooh-ing and coo-ing with little Noel. He rarely had any time to himself, he was constantly balancing out work, Noel, and myself. He was an impeccable, father, this was true. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcThcTvuI/AAAAAAAAALw/j5V82MG3ESE/s1600/Screenshot-383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwcThcTvuI/AAAAAAAAALw/j5V82MG3ESE/s640/Screenshot-383.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Levi built dry wall to make Noel a room; which I was not very happy with considering it meant taking space off of our room. His paranoia led him to install two windows just to make sure she was okay, and placed the bed at an angle to where he could see her at any portion of the night. Which I guess meant that she could see us, so we had to cut out a "certain activity" for the time-being. Or I darned hope it's the time being. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwe-OBbREI/AAAAAAAAAL4/YKx7WnYxzBQ/s1600/Screenshot-385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPwe-OBbREI/AAAAAAAAAL4/YKx7WnYxzBQ/s640/Screenshot-385.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">In the meantime, the evil side of me was feeling a bit neglected, so I decided to call up Brian. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He wouldn't suspect a thing.</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-3265600876119721322010-12-04T12:34:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:57:12.764-08:001.5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiIWfsq5I/AAAAAAAAAK8/4pbPUrrHPrQ/s1600/Screenshot-364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiIWfsq5I/AAAAAAAAAK8/4pbPUrrHPrQ/s640/Screenshot-364.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> We weren't exactly the slow-moving type. The old fashioned ones that waited about a year before they married, to make sure they were the one. But like I've said, some things you just know. You don't need to think.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiKAJisjI/AAAAAAAAALA/vxcoohDSFLY/s1600/Screenshot-365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiKAJisjI/AAAAAAAAALA/vxcoohDSFLY/s640/Screenshot-365.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> But when he bent down on one knee, I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised, because I was. I had know this man for barely a month, and we were already at this point? I'm not sure I've led many other lives, but the fact remains is that some people wait. And wait a long time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiLt8A6_I/AAAAAAAAALE/WK0mNrQca-s/s1600/Screenshot-366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiLt8A6_I/AAAAAAAAALE/WK0mNrQca-s/s640/Screenshot-366.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> However, Levi and I were both nearing the end of our prime, and we felt no need to delay anything. We both knew how we felt about each other, and as far as I was concerned, nothing could ruin it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiPfmnmqI/AAAAAAAAALM/GhOFMGOTJ0k/s1600/Screenshot-368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiPfmnmqI/AAAAAAAAALM/GhOFMGOTJ0k/s640/Screenshot-368.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I knew I was making the right choice when I accepted. There was no doubts in my mind that there was anyone out there that was better than Levi.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiQwKIUiI/AAAAAAAAALQ/IIaHIY_ar2o/s1600/Screenshot-369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiQwKIUiI/AAAAAAAAALQ/IIaHIY_ar2o/s640/Screenshot-369.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And I'm certain he felt the same way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiSkItaNI/AAAAAAAAALU/bYmFgo_Q8vU/s1600/Screenshot-370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiSkItaNI/AAAAAAAAALU/bYmFgo_Q8vU/s640/Screenshot-370.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">There was no reason as to have a proper marriage, as neither of us had any family, except that I had Tristan. And a one brother wedding would just be lame, so we decided to exchanged our vows right there in his living room. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">(what a story to tell the grandkids)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiTyq_BaI/AAAAAAAAALY/98nu_J6C3XU/s1600/Screenshot-371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiTyq_BaI/AAAAAAAAALY/98nu_J6C3XU/s640/Screenshot-371.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> As I clasped his hands, nothing in this world felt more right. I was officially the wife of Levi--not Strong--but Vegas.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiVYgpE8I/AAAAAAAAALc/h6NBN6wQQGo/s1600/Screenshot-372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiVYgpE8I/AAAAAAAAALc/h6NBN6wQQGo/s640/Screenshot-372.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> He told me that before we did anything else, we should go and tell my brother of our recent marriage. I knew he was right, and I also knew he'd be pissed that I didn't tell him that I was getting married. As far as he was concerned, I was still dating Brian. Boy, wouldn't that help the ever-growing tension of ours!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiW4nerNI/AAAAAAAAALg/FUWbA-4Wy_0/s1600/Screenshot-373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPqiW4nerNI/AAAAAAAAALg/FUWbA-4Wy_0/s640/Screenshot-373.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">As we got into the elevator to see Tristan, Levi was thinking of what to say to Tristan when we got to his apartment.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I had other plans in mind. </div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-72150410345784661862010-12-04T08:03:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:56:35.827-08:001.4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplDj49rUI/AAAAAAAAAKA/c4LI50AsnO0/s1600/Screenshot-353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplDj49rUI/AAAAAAAAAKA/c4LI50AsnO0/s640/Screenshot-353.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I had been thinking about it a lot. Quite a bit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplFjLRyaI/AAAAAAAAAKE/tFbBlJFM4Vo/s1600/Screenshot-354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplFjLRyaI/AAAAAAAAAKE/tFbBlJFM4Vo/s640/Screenshot-354.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Brian or Levi? Levi or Brian? Or just screwing the whole relationship thing entirely.... no risks means no pain.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But some things you just know. Just.... yearn for. You can't let go of it, and you can't control it. It lashes out and does what it wants, and you just have to go with it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplIWNZW_I/AAAAAAAAAKM/Igtcs8rXS4M/s1600/Screenshot-359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplIWNZW_I/AAAAAAAAAKM/Igtcs8rXS4M/s640/Screenshot-359.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And that was Levi. Levi was everything I could ever imagine and more, and that sounds so cheesy, I know. But there seemed to be nothing else without him. Levi was the star I orbited around, that let me live. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplJYY7ruI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Om43V1JMTZg/s1600/Screenshot-361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplJYY7ruI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Om43V1JMTZg/s640/Screenshot-361.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> It's strange how you can live your entire life without knowing a person, and you can live that way. But once you meet them, life jerks to a stop. The first reaction is shock. A shock so incredible that it hurts, even more so when it's gone. Then you give in. And you're enveloped in a shroud of happiness, and it's all you can see.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplKXZIfZI/AAAAAAAAAKU/x20MsiUfoms/s1600/Screenshot-362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplKXZIfZI/AAAAAAAAAKU/x20MsiUfoms/s640/Screenshot-362.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And I,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was his.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplLVCbwtI/AAAAAAAAAKY/6rBadBr6eb0/s1600/Screenshot-363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TPplLVCbwtI/AAAAAAAAAKY/6rBadBr6eb0/s640/Screenshot-363.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Maddi+Levi</div><div style="text-align: center;"><3</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-45140329507368447702010-11-26T10:20:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:56:04.611-08:001.3<div style="text-align: center;">It had been a while since I had seen college boy, who I had come to know as Brian. So it surprised me when Brian came to visit me, as I thought whatever relationship we could have had was wasted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_3gsD9dpI/AAAAAAAAAJo/G9xg_i2gnmY/s1600/Screenshot-344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_3gsD9dpI/AAAAAAAAAJo/G9xg_i2gnmY/s640/Screenshot-344.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He explained to me that he wanted to make it work, and I admired him for having the courage to come back. Clearly, I wasn't his type, but I suppose it was his gentleman-like nature that decided he needed to tie the string off properly. At the end of his visit, I ended up liking him quite a bit, and I looked forward to seeing him again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4StyaKKI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/NxrLbA0O0bs/s1600/Screenshot-349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4StyaKKI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/NxrLbA0O0bs/s640/Screenshot-349.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The next day, I was instructed by my boss to head over to one of our main guys off the grid. I was given his address and his name, Levi Strong. I wasn't told anything much after that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4NEmkl-I/AAAAAAAAAJs/g9weBir-efo/s1600/Screenshot-345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4NEmkl-I/AAAAAAAAAJs/g9weBir-efo/s640/Screenshot-345.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Levi was your basic criminal. No tell, no see, no personal stuff involved. Just get what you need got done and get the hell out. But I was attracted by him, and I decided to stay a little while after for some innocent by-the-by flirting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4OXFb2II/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZfAIXBIYQVA/s1600/Screenshot-346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4OXFb2II/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZfAIXBIYQVA/s640/Screenshot-346.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He was exactly my type. Much more so than Brian, and I really liked him, right off the bat. Though, I felt guilty for liking Levi, seeing as Brian was trying so hard to get a relationship going. I wasn't sure how I felt about either of them, seeing as I liked them both, equally. Levi received my flirtations willingly, and even threw some back, so it wasn't long before more than flirting gave way. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4P8NUsSI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/s9HQUi8040g/s1600/Screenshot-347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4P8NUsSI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/s9HQUi8040g/s640/Screenshot-347.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4RTqxX-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/CzTeTyee3oQ/s1600/Screenshot-348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TO_4RTqxX-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/CzTeTyee3oQ/s640/Screenshot-348.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Why can't choices be simple?</div><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Okay, please note that there is a poll. Please vote, as Maddi can't seem to make up her mind. ;)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-70197459324278447112010-11-15T17:43:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:55:35.758-08:001.2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHegPTDK8I/AAAAAAAAAJI/ftlvspetKeY/s1600/Screenshot-283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHegPTDK8I/AAAAAAAAAJI/ftlvspetKeY/s640/Screenshot-283.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> A few weeks had passed, and the tension in the home was now easing up now that I was earning a steady pay roll. He was now starting to try to hook me up with guys he knew around the city, and I had tried going out with several of them, only to find them to be goody goody two shoes that nauseated me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Maddi, my old roommate from college has recently moved in," he said enthusiastically. "He hasn't been in a stable relationship for a while, and I didn't think it would hurt if you would at least talk to him."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHeiiflRWI/AAAAAAAAAJM/S6UjW6_EGq0/s1600/Screenshot-284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHeiiflRWI/AAAAAAAAAJM/S6UjW6_EGq0/s640/Screenshot-284.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Honestly, the thought of meeting on of Tristan's college boys enthused me; college boy equals party boy, and we all know how big of a party animal I am. I told Tristan that I would try to stop by after work and meet him, and Tristan wrote down his address and phone number for me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Great!" I exclaimed, maybe a little too desperately. But I recently realized, that, for the first time in my life, I wanted to settle down and raise a family. But it couldn't hurt to have a fun man to be married to, now would it? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Tristan raised a single eyebrowsat me and said, "In those clothes?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I eyed myself up and down and peered at him skeptically. "Yeah... what's wrong with my clothes?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I'm not gonna lie, Mad, ya look like a whore."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe I did, I thought, and chuckled to myself. A guess it couldn't hurt to get a bit of a makeover, but I definitely wasn't going to do anything drastic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHenLOcp1I/AAAAAAAAAJU/2dhHcaSgHYk/s1600/Screenshot-287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHenLOcp1I/AAAAAAAAAJU/2dhHcaSgHYk/s640/Screenshot-287.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I collected my daily pay from the head honcho, and excitedly headed towards the salon to make myself over. I kept trying to depict what this college boy would look like, and I wanted to make sure I didn't look too... easy when I met him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHeoVouNXI/AAAAAAAAAJY/jacfmOUKHjA/s1600/Screenshot-288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHeoVouNXI/AAAAAAAAAJY/jacfmOUKHjA/s640/Screenshot-288.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I approached the call box and buzzed up to his room. "Uh, hey, college boy. This is Tristan's sis, Maddi."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I paused for a moment waiting for him to respond, and with a hum of the device, I heard a deep voice from the other end say, "Okay, I buzzed you in Maddi."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When I first saw him, I thought that he looked like a goody two shoes, and I ended up being right. He was aiming to be a journalist for the <i>New Sim Times</i>, and he had worked really hard to get there. Immediately, I felt foolish for even thinking he would be slightly interested in me, and I coaxed myself by saying that he wasn't my type anyway.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We talked for a while, and I guess you could say we were friendly acquaitances, like the ones you smile at in a grocery store, maybe stop and chat a little bit, but forget about ten minutes later. I didn't expect him to call me back, that was for sure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHerno0QiI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rdW372LMAZQ/s1600/Screenshot-290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOHerno0QiI/AAAAAAAAAJg/rdW372LMAZQ/s640/Screenshot-290.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">When I came home, Tristan was on his cell. It was apparent that he was talking a romantic interest, with all the cooing and oohing that was going on over there. My stomach heaved. How nauseating. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But, as I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. My brother, the heartbreaker, was having a better dating life than I could ever hope for. </div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-43516071509725959872010-11-14T15:38:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:55:12.228-08:001.1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuLvhIehI/AAAAAAAAAIk/1NTKD2dpN_s/s1600/Screenshot-272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuLvhIehI/AAAAAAAAAIk/1NTKD2dpN_s/s640/Screenshot-272.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I was watching a particularly interesting episode of Glee on the worst television you could possibly imagine, all small, with the goofy little antennas sticking out the top. It looked like something from the '70's. Couldn't Tristan afford better? The TV was really ruining the TV show. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuM-RRaiI/AAAAAAAAAIo/tZC47wsCppA/s1600/Screenshot-273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuM-RRaiI/AAAAAAAAAIo/tZC47wsCppA/s640/Screenshot-273.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Tristan sat on the couch and gave me one of his fake smiles, one I recognized swiftly from my childhood. He wanted me to do something, probably something I really didn't want to do. I smiled briskly back at him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I know I'm letting you stay here until you get on your feet and all," he started, "but isn't gaining some sort of income would help... move things along?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuPvOns5I/AAAAAAAAAIw/6DAQz0UF21c/s1600/Screenshot-275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuPvOns5I/AAAAAAAAAIw/6DAQz0UF21c/s640/Screenshot-275.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "Would you quit worrying? I'll get a job, and all that jazz, just let me relax a little first." Truth was, I just really didn't want to get off my ass and DO something. I was feeling particularly at ease and comfortable with being lazy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuRGMFrCI/AAAAAAAAAI0/roS6dGq8eEc/s1600/Screenshot-276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuRGMFrCI/AAAAAAAAAI0/roS6dGq8eEc/s640/Screenshot-276.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Maddi, I know you need my help, but I need my own space too, and the sooner you get out the better! Get up and get a job, I'm not going to be your push over." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuST7nhEI/AAAAAAAAAI4/xxQv6qgx01k/s1600/Screenshot-277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuST7nhEI/AAAAAAAAAI4/xxQv6qgx01k/s640/Screenshot-277.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I was stunned. Never had I expected Tristan to get angry with me--he was normally so even-tempered. But I knew he was right, and I didn't want to be kicked out, so I called for a cab.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuT9IcAgI/AAAAAAAAAI8/LMVaN5BQtpA/s1600/Screenshot-278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBuT9IcAgI/AAAAAAAAAI8/LMVaN5BQtpA/s640/Screenshot-278.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I dropped out from high school when I was sixteen, so I didn't have enough education to do much more than solve a few equations. It was near impossible to get a job at my level of education, so I settled with the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. I figured if I was going to fit it anywhere, it would be here.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Time was going to go by slow, and with the tension at Tristan's apartment, I needed to get out of there soon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4991111627126775222.post-51909647064617433352010-11-14T13:16:00.000-08:002011-02-12T11:54:26.372-08:00Founder: Maddi Vegas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBO-SQgaSI/AAAAAAAAAII/bFo3OxJ9Nvg/s1600/Screenshot-262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBO-SQgaSI/AAAAAAAAAII/bFo3OxJ9Nvg/s640/Screenshot-262.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> My name is Maddi Vegas. Ya know, like the city, I suppose. If only I lived up to my name! I live in a crummy apartment, correction! my brother's crummy apartment. As if I could afford one. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBPFnd5P-I/AAAAAAAAAIM/7J_BnzddVNQ/s1600/Screenshot-263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBPFnd5P-I/AAAAAAAAAIM/7J_BnzddVNQ/s640/Screenshot-263.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is my brother, Tristan. I don't have the best relationship with him, but we're family, so we have to stick together. He's hardly every home; he's always been the heartbreaker of the family. So I guess the city life suits him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBPOZZP9BI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/QJdTdVR7SCM/s1600/Screenshot-264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBPOZZP9BI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/QJdTdVR7SCM/s640/Screenshot-264.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">So here's a picture that I took when I got off the subway to live here. It's such a small portion of the city, you can't even get a glimpse of how big it is unless you lived here yourself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBRWTTkJ9I/AAAAAAAAAIU/e91QXfusJVA/s1600/Screenshot-267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2HOoBs3LNQs/TOBRWTTkJ9I/AAAAAAAAAIU/e91QXfusJVA/s640/Screenshot-267.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We weren't living in the best of situations, but I had to make it work for now. </div>CrazyPlumbob915http://www.blogger.com/profile/09004826047267479961noreply@blogger.com3