<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461</id><updated>2012-01-24T02:00:40.299-05:00</updated><category term='dark'/><category term='2009'/><category term='classy'/><category term='notmiranda'/><category term='notroger'/><category term='interesting'/><category term='boys'/><category term='the past'/><category term='self'/><category term='hug'/><category term='karoke'/><category term='auction'/><category term='following'/><category term='barbie girl'/><category term='summer'/><category term='babeland.com'/><category term='el sexo'/><category term='appearance'/><category term='dc'/><category term='mystery'/><category term='WTF'/><category 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term='premiere'/><category term='hands'/><category term='music'/><category term='what you wish for'/><category term='spirits'/><category term='bubble world'/><category term='eyes open'/><category term='jacking off'/><category term='swoon'/><category term='men'/><category term='weird'/><category term='coffee'/><category term='hot'/><category term='waiters'/><category term='health'/><category term='being me'/><category term='hot men'/><category term='discussion'/><category term='beer'/><category term='plans'/><category term='Sex and the City movie'/><category term='magazine'/><category term='cousin flow'/><category term='relationship'/><category term='tagged'/><category term='females'/><category term='holding hands'/><category term='astrology'/><category term='date'/><category term='horoscope'/><category term='hair'/><category term='SATC'/><category term='baking'/><category term='family'/><category term='craigslist'/><category term='meeting the parents'/><category term='older men'/><category term='tv'/><category term='guitar'/><category term='may december'/><category term='bad dates'/><category term='males'/><category term='review'/><category term='notdreds'/><category term='happy hour'/><category term='friday'/><category term='summer love'/><category term='getting older'/><category term='guys'/><category term='notcarrie'/><category term='links'/><category term='drinking'/><category term='clueless'/><category term='details'/><category term='instant gratification'/><category term='puppy'/><category term='movie'/><category term='bar'/><category term='sign'/><category term='kill mary fuck'/><category term='drinks'/><category term='no sleep'/><category term='balls'/><category term='friends with benefits'/><category term='notgraceful'/><category term='trust'/><category term='&quot;the One&quot;'/><category term='Babeland'/><category term='ratios'/><category term='kissing'/><category term='getting pens'/><category term='winter'/><category term='sex toys'/><category term='anal sex'/><category term='homework'/><category term='stalker'/><category term='sex'/><category term='Lilly Allen'/><category term='threesome'/><category term='notphotographer'/><category term='picture'/><category term='dancing'/><category term='insane'/><category term='notcharlotte'/><category term='clothes'/><category term='bad day'/><category term='costumes'/><category term='age'/><category term='beer pong'/><category term='notharry'/><category term='asshole'/><category term='get some'/><category term='pretty goddamn awesome'/><category term='friends'/><category term='meme'/><category term='work crush'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='stress'/><category term='politics'/><category term='random'/><category term='cupcakes'/><category term='reunion'/><category term='party'/><category term='drunk'/><category term='communication'/><category term='happy'/><category term='valentines day'/><category term='weekend'/><category term='museums'/><category term='yuengling'/><category term='condescending'/><category term='sleep face'/><category term='saying goodbye'/><category term='licking'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='the Nots'/><category term='long hair'/><category term='food'/><category term='lips'/><category term='flirting'/><category term='dates'/><category term='mall'/><category term='mood ruiner'/><category term='rabies'/><category term='matchmaking'/><category term='strangers'/><category term='blow job'/><category term='making out'/><category term='notfun'/><title type='text'>No Sex &amp; the City</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>732</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7228189276981791822</id><published>2011-01-27T23:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T23:12:20.222-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake a Tailfeather</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm an internet junky and one the things I read a lot of are blogs about hair.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of which this is not one.  However, occasionally the blogs will pos something that is not hair related at all.  Like &lt;a href='http://charcoal-ink.com/2011/01/22/do-you-have-the-courage-to-send-a-man-a-drink-at-a-bar/'&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;: sending a man a drink at a bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I think about all of the bold things I've done to get a man's attention and keep it, the idea of paying for a drink and sending it his way doesn't come to mind, but why not?  I'm bold, I look hot, I make eye contact, I put tick marks in all the boxes of the things that a bold woman would do, except this.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sad to say I've not had a drink purchased for me in a while, in part because the crush of bodies at the bars I do happen to frequent doesn't lend itself to that and in part because I haven't been to a bar in a while.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think that needs to change.  Maybe I need to find better bars to go to, but to do that I would have to be willing to go to ANY bar.  In the current state of dating, I think it's important to stand out from the crowd.  Even looking different is no longer enough.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In a sea of birds of all different colored feathers the one that stands out is the one who steps in front of the crowd.  I challenge my readers to be bold in their dating, to push beyond that status quo of boldness.  Find ever more things that set you apart and don't be afraid to call the bartender over and send that guy you're eyefucking a refill on his Side Car or microbrew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:the King &amp;amp; Queen font; font-size:28pt'&gt;NotSamantha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7228189276981791822?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7228189276981791822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7228189276981791822' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7228189276981791822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7228189276981791822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2011/01/shake-tailfeather.html' title='Shake a Tailfeather'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6960471429604715276</id><published>2011-01-27T22:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T23:15:44.616-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcarrie'/><title type='text'>Take A Hint</title><content type='html'>What I wanted to say was, "Actually, you can't take a hint!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Let's back up:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Three Days Ago...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NotMiranda and I went to one of our favorite bars that happens to be about 40 minutes away. We always have high hopes of flirting with cute guys with accents while there, but have fun even when that doesn't happen. Well, this time it happened. Oh boy did it happen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had been there for a bit and were maybe three drinks in when NotMiranda teased a man standing nearby for drinking a sissy drink. That led to about an hour or so of fun conversation that you'd expect at a bar where three adults are drinking. Except for our round of "Ask questions!" we partook in, I said or did nothing that led this man on. He asked for my phone number and as we exchanged those, I said I would let him know the next time we were out that way (Ya know, in a friendly way). There was no hug goodbye...no touching at all. No promise to go out with him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next morning he called me. And early. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That afternoon he texted me. So I wrote back and also said it was nice meeting and I would let him know the next time we went back to the bar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And he wrote back asking me out. Or more, "Let me know if you'd like to go out." To which I replied, "I will...talk to you later."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then a day or two later I get another text inviting me to the bar and I say I can't get out that way on work days. At this point I am trying to be nice, but not lead him on like I am going to go out with him later. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then he asks me out for a specific date and time. Oy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't like turning people down. It's really difficult for me, but at this point I had to. I can't have this bar be off limits because I am avoiding some guy. So I replied and made a joke (because that's very "me") and said no thank you, but I would let him know when we're back out that way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annndddd he replied saying, "Don't worry, I can take a hint."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Really? Can you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why is this so difficult? I feel like I was unjustly put in the position of having to be blunt. If I had been drunk and touchy at the bar then yes, I would understand the persistence, but I wasn't! I've learned the hard way not to lead guys on in a bar because it might end with you having to get the eff out of the situation, but I did not lead this guy on. I guess I'm annoyed that I was put in the position of having to step outside my comfort zone and deal with this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;~NotCarrie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6960471429604715276?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6960471429604715276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6960471429604715276' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6960471429604715276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6960471429604715276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2011/01/take-hint.html' title='Take A Hint'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7039825001420064957</id><published>2011-01-19T22:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T22:11:51.063-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcarrie'/><title type='text'>Mr. No Name</title><content type='html'>I have a good story to tell you, but before I do that, I have to tell you about this guy I met. Er, sorta met. Okay, I have no idea what his name is, but I totally have a crush on him.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was buying a CD by a band I totally love. I immediately imagined us listening to it as we dozed on the couch. And then he inquired about the soundtrack to Blue Valentine and I couldn't stop myself and told him that I am so excited to see that movie. He agreed and asked if it's playing around here yet. I said that it's only in the city and he made the same face I did about that. Then we talked about the controversial NC17 rating that was knocked down to R. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made my friend follow to see if he was alone and he was. I wish I had known that while I was talking to him. I have had some awkward moments flirting with guys who have girlfriends. I would like to avoid the scary girlfriends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope I see him again. He was tall, with dark hair. Our babies are going to be so cute. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7039825001420064957?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7039825001420064957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7039825001420064957' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7039825001420064957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7039825001420064957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2011/01/mr-no-name.html' title='Mr. No Name'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6107101237948524823</id><published>2011-01-16T20:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T20:48:31.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Will Begin Again</title><content type='html'>I rang in the New Year standing on the side of a bridge built in the 1600s.&lt;br /&gt;I watched fireworks light up the night sky, all set off by amateurs.&lt;br /&gt;I was surrounded by people I recognized from my many jaunts down the cobble stoned main street of the town I live in.&lt;br /&gt;I kissed 6 different guys between 0000 and 0030. Three were American. Two were German. One was Greek.&lt;br /&gt;I drank 4 car bombs and a lot of Hefeweisen.&lt;br /&gt;I paraded down the street with group of unnamed people at 0300 that didn't want to go to bed so soon.&lt;br /&gt;I spent the wee morning hours of January 1, 2011, getting laid by a scruffy Scotsman in a hotel, whose windows overlooked the very same old bridge I was near at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;I still can't remember his name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first few hours of 2011 set off a new path in the direction of NotCharlotte's world.  This year has a lot of potential.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6107101237948524823?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6107101237948524823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6107101237948524823' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6107101237948524823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6107101237948524823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-will-begin-again.html' title='I Will Begin Again'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8370770259915223461</id><published>2011-01-12T22:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T22:45:11.066-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcarrie'/><title type='text'>Group Of Unmarrieds</title><content type='html'>Every once and awhile my single friends and I will wonder, "Why are so many of us single in our group?" And it's true. Save for a few, the majority of us are unmarried and really, there aren't many of us even dating anyone. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So why is that? What makes us different and why do we seem to have found each other in friendship?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was thinking about this the other day and went about it scientifically. Okay, more like observationally, but I want this to sound researched and sound. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First I compare myself and my friends to other groups that do have mostly hitched members and thought that maybe other groups are more attractive than we are. Well, no...that's not it. For one, what is attractive differs for each person. Also, none of us are ugly nor do we smell or make weird faces. So looks can't be it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it because we don't date a lot? I will readily admit that I am not a dater and most of my friends are not either. But then I thought about a few of my friends who are always dating and trying out new guys and they're not married either so that can't be it. The number of boyfriends one has had seems to make no difference as to the likelihood of being hitched now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it because we never go out and are hermits in our houses and apartments? Oh wait, that's not true. We all go out a lot. We all have hobbies and social lives that put us out there quite often. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So WHAT is it that makes a person or a group of people less likely to be married by the time they're 25-35? And why do we all seem to be friends with each other?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NotCarrie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8370770259915223461?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8370770259915223461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8370770259915223461' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8370770259915223461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8370770259915223461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2011/01/group-of-unmarrieds.html' title='Group Of Unmarrieds'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2337722877598163058</id><published>2010-12-06T23:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T23:05:48.361-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Snuggle Buddies</title><content type='html'>I know NotMiranda has remarked on this before (maybe on Twitter?), but when the temperatures drop, it just seems so much more romantic to snuggle up with someone else. This past summer was particularly brutal and I for one was not usually in the mood to get up close and personal with anyone unless I was hiding out in the AC. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But now is the time of cozy sweaters and beautiful Christmas trees. Of fireplaces in use and kitchens that smells of baking cookies. This is the time for falling in love. Don't walk around too bundled up. Be sure to make eye contact and smile at the people you see. You never know when love will happen and you don't want to be hiding in your scarf, right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love and Kisses,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;NotCarrie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2337722877598163058?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2337722877598163058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2337722877598163058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2337722877598163058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2337722877598163058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/12/snuggle-buddies.html' title='Snuggle Buddies'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1052170144512178320</id><published>2010-12-04T11:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T11:05:00.542-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unflushable'/><title type='text'>Unflushable</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;"&gt;I have an unflushable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;"&gt;Don't know what an unflushable is?  Well get thee to the first episode of the British sitcom “Coupling.”  Basically, an unflushable is a relationship where you try to get out of it, but the other person refuses to be broken up with.  With NotAFreak, I have tried three times to break up with him.  I've sort of succeeded once, but I went to give back his things and in the process ended up back together with him.  &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri, sans-serif;"&gt;No one is more confused than I about this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1052170144512178320?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1052170144512178320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1052170144512178320' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1052170144512178320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1052170144512178320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/12/unflushable.html' title='Unflushable'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5067024629402943592</id><published>2010-11-15T15:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T15:56:48.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hardly Worth It</title><content type='html'>So this weekend I hung out with an old friend from high school.  I thought it was just going to be the two of us, with a couple of my guy friends thrown in for good measure, reminiscing over the good times over some good German schnitzel and beer. &lt;br /&gt;Boy, was I sadly mistaken.&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago I had an unfortunate hookup with a guy that was also friends with this girl from high school. Only, these two had dated.  Not only dated, but were together while deployed.  Not only this, but she "cheated" on him with her ex boyfriend, a guy that I had set her up with a long time ago, via email/skype/im/whatever, broke up with her battle buddy, and proceeded to marry the guy I set her up with.&lt;br /&gt;This should have ended things, right?  As in, she broke his heart, he never wants to talk to her again, right?&lt;br /&gt;This guy is now stationed where I am and when my friend said she was visiting, I asked her about inviting him.  She said her husband didn't want her talking to him, so I said "hey, no problem, I won't invite him to our plans."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut to last Friday.  I was at the train station at 6pm, when she said she'd be there.  I get a text from this guys' phone saying "I'm going to be late."  First thought was "creepy, I didn't invite him anywhere."  Then it hit me.  He was with her.  I finally reach her via his cell phone and she said they haven't even left yet.  She is stationed about an hour from me, meaning she would miss the dinner reservations I had planned, as well as a good portion of drinking we were about to do.  Not only that, but she was somehow with this guy, even though her husband didn't want them together.&lt;br /&gt;Something felt fishy to me.  I told them I'd just meet them at our old high school bar and went on with my plans with the guys.&lt;br /&gt;When we finally met up, it was obvious to me that something was up.  He wouldn't leave her side, he wouldn't let her pay for anything, he kept "moonily" staring at her.  This dude was totally still in love with her and she didn't have the balls to tell him to back off.&lt;br /&gt;This annoyed me to no end.  Not because I had feelings for him.  Quite the opposite.  I consider him my first "one night stand," even though we didn't have sex, and I quite honestly didn't want to see him again.&lt;br /&gt;This behavior lasted all night long.  We ended up all crashing at my house, staying up until 6am.  When we finally woke up around noon, I came downstairs to find the two of them sitting together on the couch, with him rubbing her feet like she was some Arabian princess.  I'm sure her husband would have loved that.&lt;br /&gt;I ended up making an excuse to not hang out with her for the rest of the weekend.  I didn't want to be subjected to the obvious flirting going on between a married woman and her ex boyfriend.  I didn't quite know how to react to the first night, so I'm sure after a few more hours of this stuff, I would have blown a gasket. &lt;br /&gt;I truly hope nothing happened between them.  The guy she is married to is one of the most awesome guys I know.  I just don't understand how some people can be so clueless.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry this post is a random mess, I'm still pretty upset about the whole thing and trying to wrap my head around it just makes me feel sicker than i already am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5067024629402943592?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5067024629402943592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5067024629402943592' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5067024629402943592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5067024629402943592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/11/hardly-worth-it.html' title='Hardly Worth It'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2653422572505977102</id><published>2010-11-05T22:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T22:31:46.150-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcarrie'/><title type='text'>Reflect</title><content type='html'>Can a person know they're in a torrid love affair while it's happening? Or is that the type of thing you know only after the fact?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2653422572505977102?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2653422572505977102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2653422572505977102' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2653422572505977102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2653422572505977102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/11/reflect.html' title='Reflect'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3792472633843137457</id><published>2010-11-02T10:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T10:31:09.272-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcarrie'/><title type='text'>Style</title><content type='html'>Everyone has their own style of flirting, right? Do you ever compare and contrast your style to someone else's? I do! I was out recently with a friend and an attractive and charming guy was nearby. It was so interesting to notice how we both interacted with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am more of the type to just be engaging and friendly. I don't want to act too differently than my normal day to day self. I would never use a *line*: "Wooowwww, do you workout???" That would never escape from my mouth. I like to flirt more with my smile and my eyes. If it gets to that point, touching his arm is the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed other styles that include being very forward, being the damsel in distress, and being coy, to name a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm here because I wanted to see YOU." Kinda forward. It's nice and complimentary, but how does the guy reply? "Er, thanks." It can go poorly quite easily! I think some guys would eat that up, but it's essential to guage his reaction and change tactics if he seems confused by it. I've also had friends who straight up talk about sex immediately. I find that to be weird. Don't be a tease...or a slut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh why would you talk to little old me?" "I'm so drunk! *hiccup*!" UGH damsel in distress. The worst kind of flirter. I hate it when girls totally change their personalities around a guy. I think it's to be expected to act a little differently around someone you have a crush on or find attractive, but I am not in distress so why would I want some stranger to save me? This is not a romanctic comedy. This is life and tomorrow I'm still going to have to pump my own gas and carry my own groceries in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being coy. Hmmm....a sly side smile, brushing a hand on a leg, using lots of euphemisms. I think this is a classic case of a shy girl with a wild inside. I can actually see myself possibly being coy at times, but I had enough experiences in my early 20s when I was being coy and the guy thought I was being forward and it got to the point of, "Um, no. I will not be going home with you." I definitely learned that it's better to be straight forward. A euphemism is great if it's done for a laugh, but otherwise, don't make things confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your flirting style??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3792472633843137457?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3792472633843137457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3792472633843137457' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3792472633843137457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3792472633843137457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/11/style.html' title='Style'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8272943055065145014</id><published>2010-10-31T23:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T23:59:27.621-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Upping the ante</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/TM43LOsc4mI/AAAAAAAAAEA/u187Y0IRB_E/s1600/Picture1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; height: 334px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 460px;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: #999999;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="276" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/TM43LOsc4mI/AAAAAAAAAEA/u187Y0IRB_E/s400/Picture1.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;As soon as the weather started getting cooler, I noticed my attention to guys pick back up. I know this sounds weird, but when I'm out and about when it's hot, I'm usually not focused on catching the eye of the attractive guy on the train. I tend to be more concerned with getting to work while still looking moderately put together and not sweating. Maybe this means I should move to an even cooler climate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway, I digress. I was riding the train to work one morning, and the cooler temps had me chipper and friendly. I found myself smiling at several men when it hit me. I have pretty diverse taste in guys. The guys (just examples, most are actually married to bloggers I adore) above tend to look a bit the same when placed side by side, but when placed into categories, I definitely think I get around (crush-wise).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm totally developing into crush whore this fall, and I am bound and determined one of these will work out ;-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, there's my standard love crush...NotJason (is that what we're calling him? I forget). This one is like your favorite warm blanket, around for the long haul and not going anywhere. I found an old picture the other day and found myself laughing out loud and saying "I love that boy". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crush #2 is older tech guy crush. This is the IT guy at our office. He's newish, Irish, reddish blonde, and I've been flirting my ass off since I noticed the lack of a ring. I think he may be 3-4 years older than me? Anyway, he gives good convo and is easy to talk to. Plus, computer boys are good to have around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crush #3 is graffiti/artist boy. Man, he is good looking. He's 32, and a full-time artist. He&amp;nbsp;has *the* best smile and laugh and is sort of shy. I am very quickly falling for this ringless wonder and thinking about how I can move this along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crush #4 is the foreman (not really his title, since he has enviro training and does more) on my current construction job. He.is.HOTT!!! He is a total luke. In other words, he's scruffy with a permanent 5 o'clock shadow, a nice peppering of grey, piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, and tall and solid. Hubba hubba. I found out from colleagues who work with him more that he's single and looking. I think I have my whole team trying to hook me up with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I need advice? How do &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; advance something past the crush stage? Obviously I fail at this,since I've harbored some crushes for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8272943055065145014?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8272943055065145014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8272943055065145014' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8272943055065145014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8272943055065145014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/upping-ante.html' title='Upping the ante'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/TM43LOsc4mI/AAAAAAAAAEA/u187Y0IRB_E/s72-c/Picture1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6211218585242376303</id><published>2010-10-31T18:32:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T18:32:44.482-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Piscean woman in me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've never been much into astrology other than the occasional peek in the birthday books to see if my personality really does match up with the traits listed.  But with twitter it's really easy to get your daily horoscope.  But I wanted something a little edgier, so I went for the daily Sexoscopes, and a recent one caught my eye:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;            "Pisces females need a man –a real man who protects and leads."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If there were ever a quote to sum up what I want in a man, it would be this one.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's very frustrating to be a dominant female and yet to need a man who is just as, if not more dominant.  I'm just not getting that when I'm dating, and it's depressing.  If I'm going to be a follower, I have to have a trustworthy leader or at least a partner I can work with.  I feel like men have let me down, by not stepping up to women and telling us what they want.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've always said that I want a man with some backbone, chutzpah, BALLS…anything, besides the milquetoast that I've been presented with.  I'm welcome to advice on how to get such a man, because at this point I am fed up and ready to declare myself off the market for a while.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6211218585242376303?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6211218585242376303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6211218585242376303' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6211218585242376303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6211218585242376303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/piscean-woman-in-me.html' title='The Piscean woman in me'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5806005688855869165</id><published>2010-10-25T22:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T22:46:15.622-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcarrie'/><title type='text'>Digital Getdown</title><content type='html'>People keep telling me to try online dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Try it! It's a great way to meet people!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A ton of people meet their perfect matches on there."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"What is there to lose?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about online dating every so often. In fact, I've thought about it enough that I'm actually on a site or two, but I'm not sure it's for me. I went through a few weeks where I made sure to look at profiles and *wink* and rate people who interested me, but my participation would always end when someone wrote me. I got a really nice message from a guy who thought it was cute I described myself as a fun dork, but I never wrote back. I meant to, but I didn't know what to say and I kept thinking about it getting to the next step and I would either imagine a terrible phone call or a terrible meeting. And it's not like I don't have social skills. I have good social skills! In fact, the other night I realized I am often in the entertainment position in a group of people. I'm pretty good at keeping awkward moments at bay and keeping conversations going. I'm not sure why I can't see myself on a date with one of these guys, but whatever it is, it's keeping me from really doing this whole online dating thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the new percentage of couples who meet online? 75% Seems high to me. I think it would be different if I was sitting around my apartment and wondering why I wasn't meeting anyone. You know, if I worked 80 hours a week and didn't interact with anyone new all week. But that's not me...I am out all the freaking time. In fact, when I think about having to set up dates with people I meet online, I think, "But then I won't be able to hang out with my friends so much!" Who is to say the perfect guy isn't out at the same bar I frequent with my girls? Maybe he's not online. I have absolutely nothing against this whole online dating thing, but I think I'm going to go about finding love my own way for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~NotCarrie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5806005688855869165?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5806005688855869165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5806005688855869165' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5806005688855869165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5806005688855869165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-getdown.html' title='Digital Getdown'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1152868729754181097</id><published>2010-10-22T15:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T15:06:26.848-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Weekend</title><content type='html'>Is a blemish in my record that I would rather not get into...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it did make me realize that I finally, truly, have a type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tall.  Like, ridiculously taller than my 5'7" self.&lt;br /&gt;Dark haired.  Or no-haired.  Or short-haired.&lt;br /&gt;Broad shouldered. &lt;br /&gt;Likes PDA (as in hand holding, arms around each other, leg touches while sitting).&lt;br /&gt;Funny. Sarcastic. Not cocky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, being surrounded by military men, this "type," at least physically, is pretty easy to come by, but for my next encounter with the opposite sex, I'm feeling a bit more International.  My Grandma told me my next love interest will be a German, so stay tuned...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1152868729754181097?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1152868729754181097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1152868729754181097' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1152868729754181097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1152868729754181097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/last-weekend.html' title='Last Weekend'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3797553067432638014</id><published>2010-10-19T23:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T23:53:43.701-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Tweet</title><content type='html'>Hey guys,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some motivation so follow me on twitter and give me the love I need:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://twitter.com/#!/notcarrieXOXO"&gt;FOLLOW ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3797553067432638014?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3797553067432638014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3797553067432638014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3797553067432638014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3797553067432638014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/tweet.html' title='Tweet'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-4966123126859733589</id><published>2010-10-17T18:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T18:58:38.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So When Last We Left You…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;NotSamantha was dating NotAFreak and battling her trust issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A year later, I'm over trying to control my trust issues and deciding to live in the moment.  It's not love, it's not hate, its ambivalence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And for me, the ambivalent heart is no heart at all.  While I feel like I should be moving forward with my life, starting relationships that will lead to some sort of lifelong commitment, I just don't see it happening with NotAFreak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Am I settling?  Nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I am, is tired of looking.  Tell you what, how about he finds me.  Give me a bit of that romance I'm always reading about.  Until then, ambivalence is where I stand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-4966123126859733589?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/4966123126859733589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=4966123126859733589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4966123126859733589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4966123126859733589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/so-when-last-we-left-you.html' title='So When Last We Left You…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8558765166472371460</id><published>2010-10-11T17:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T17:48:08.526-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Going the Distance</title><content type='html'>Well, hello again.  I suppose it's time to give this blog another go, although I will say I do have some hesitancy in getting back on the wagon.  We'll see how it goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago today was the last you all heard from me.  My last post was about men I barely even remember, but the vow I made was something I definitely upheld.  July 2009 I entered into a relationship with who I thought I would inevitably marry.  NotKeef.  We had worked together for several years and I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few posts about him in the depths of the NSATC blog.  We seemed to fit; we got along with each others' friends, we practically lived at each others' apartments; we liked the same food; drinking; TV shows.  Yet when I accepted a job in Germany, a small rift started to grow between us.  I moved in December of 2009, with his promises to find a job immediately and follow me out there.  He even came to visit me for New Years.  I showed him where I grew up and we celebrated midnight making out under a fireworks-filled sky lighting up the town's distant castle.  It was very romantic, although I clearly remember the crowds freaking him out and him freezing whenever someone tried to speak the language to him.  The crack grew deeper and I became more distant.  Our weekend Skype sessions turned into staring contests.  My epic emails would receive 4 sentence replies.  My need for the constant communication that we shared while living in the same area was reciprocated over an ocean with half-hearted attempts at Twitter Direct Messages and the occasional love package. &lt;br /&gt;The final straw came in April, when I found out from another coworker that he had accepted another job in his organization.  I flipped out and we stopped talking for a week, before I emailed him a breakup letter.  He didn't fight for us, simply said "Sorry it didn't work out.  I tried to find a job, but I couldn't give this one up."&lt;br /&gt;A few other things led me to this decision, but that event kind of put everything in perspective.  In hindsight, I do realize I put him in a difficult position, expecting him to give up everything and move to a foreign country, but if the tables were turned, I would have done it in a heartbeat.&lt;br /&gt;I want an "all or nothing" relationship.  Someone that I would do anything for, someone who would do anything for me.  Someone who can make a long distance relationship work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which, I know, is a hard feat to accomplish.  Case in point, I just got back from a wonderful work trip in Austin.  While there, I hung out with NotMiranda's brother, NotAlamo.  I had met him a few times before and thought he was cute, but timing was never on our side.  In fact, last time I saw him, he was helping my parents move and told NotMiranda that if things didn't work out between me and NotKeef, that he would date me. &lt;br /&gt;We hung out a lot, with each time being more fantastic than the next.  He and I have so much in common and we just feel comfortable together.  He makes me feel safe, and attractive, and funny.  We were at a bar and met some random people.  I got up to use the bathroom and when I got back he was telling them all about me, saying "you're just so damn interesting."  We actually talked about how much it sucked that we lived so far away from each other and how much long distance sucked.  But it didn't stop us from saying we like each other, or holding hands, or kissing.&lt;br /&gt;He is pretty much my perfect guy, but we can't be together because I'm a proven example of why long distance relationships don't work out.  On our final night, we kept reminding each other not to think about it and made no promises other than the fact he's going to come visit me in September.  I think it was the right way to end things, but since then all I can think about is why couldn't it work out?  Silly me and my optimistic masochism (or is it sadism?) of trying to re-create the last relationship I had.  Maybe we're meant to let things simmer and see what happens in September?  Maybe we're not meant to be together?  Everything is supposed to happen for a reason, right?  Then how come I'm not at peace with this inconvenient reasoning?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8558765166472371460?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8558765166472371460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8558765166472371460' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8558765166472371460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8558765166472371460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/going-distance.html' title='Going the Distance'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-4468726281234403856</id><published>2010-10-08T19:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T19:52:11.526-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the Nots'/><title type='text'>Backstory</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Maybe I should back up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A long, long time ago there lived four fine maidens who were the closest of friends. On most weekends they could be found together pursuing life, love, happiness and most assuredly the opposite sex. These maidens chose to chronicle their adventures, doubts, love, lust and everything in between on this blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As every good tale does, their story took a turn for the worse as once solid friendships began to crumble. The strife and not-so-subtle bickering bled into the blog, and the blog was no longer *fun*. So we stopped...mostly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flash forward a good two years, and suddenly women are lusting after Don Draper, girls are still lining up in trampy heels for Sex and the City movies, and Betty White is suddenly hot again. As for us, we've lived and grown and dated and dumped and cried and laughed and...you get it. We are a little older and questionably wiser. We're still fast friends in various configurations, but with growth comes change. You won't find us all at the same place doing the same thing on the weekend, and perhaps that's more interesting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing I can say is that we've all missed this space a bit, our own world to pour a little bit of our hearts into. So...we're back (all of us) to give it another go. Buckle up and don't mind the turbulence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-4468726281234403856?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/4468726281234403856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=4468726281234403856' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4468726281234403856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4468726281234403856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/backstory.html' title='Backstory'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6465318048825866731</id><published>2010-10-06T20:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T21:02:08.669-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crush'/><title type='text'>Phantom Crush</title><content type='html'>I am desperate for a crush! I feel like everyone around me has someone to be excited about and I just can not, for the life of me, find anyone worthy of my thoughts and attention. The funny thing is, I kind of get excited about my friends' crushes. The other day I got just as excited as my friend that her crush gave her a hug as if it had been me and my one and only. It's a funny predicament to be in. I in no way have the same crushes as my friends, but I guess I approve of their choices because I "fully" support them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~NotCarrie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6465318048825866731?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6465318048825866731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6465318048825866731' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6465318048825866731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6465318048825866731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/phantom-crush.html' title='Phantom Crush'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-154918903786358826</id><published>2010-10-04T21:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T22:01:20.095-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A little heavy for a re-release...</title><content type='html'>I rounded the corner at my local thrift store yesterday and noticed a group of 3 or 4 Latino out of the corner of my eye. As I walked down the aisle I couldn't help but notice the blatant staring, less "hey, how are you" and more "I've been vegetarian for a year and could really use a steak". This bothered me for several reasons, but my biggest beef was that I found myself caught up in the perpetuation of yet another stereotype.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The media is constantly bombarding us with news stories of rapists and sexual predators, and more often than not the images shown are those of Latino or African American men. Statistically speaking, the majority of rapists in prison are not Caucasian with some 75% being African American. Common sense and a bit more research causes me to question these assumptions. Are the majority of rapists not Caucasian, or is it simply the number of rapists prosecuted and sentenced under our current justice system non-white races? Do white rapists tend to get away with it more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mention this because I believe that, despite our best intentions, these subtle messages seep into our subconscious and pepper our reactions to the outside world. When I found myself being ogled like the main course at a buffet, my hackles went up, and my fuck you face went on. Was this a reaction to being offended, or was it social conditioning that led me to leap several scenarios ahead and convict people on the spot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something to debate and ponder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-154918903786358826?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/154918903786358826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=154918903786358826' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/154918903786358826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/154918903786358826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2010/10/little-heavy-for-re-release.html' title='A little heavy for a re-release...'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3239988581888151158</id><published>2009-10-03T17:37:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:11:26.709-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m notSamantha and I’m not in Kansas, anymore…</title><content type='html'>It's not often that I'm shaken and stirred when it comes to men.  For the most part they're pretty simple: sex, food, companionship and the occasional sporting event/computer thing/political issue for fun.  Well, NotAFreak is bucking my carefully crafted ideas, and I don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Not one little bit, which would explain why I'm still so attracted, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know women want a man to &lt;em&gt;get them&lt;/em&gt;, and I count myself among those women, but to get me so quickly is a little frightening.  So is him managing to lay out my issues before I can give voice to them.  Seriously, its enough to make me want to run for the hills…maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've been taking the advice route with this relationship (okay, I didn't stutter, falter or gag…maybe just a bit).  NotMiranda and NotASong have weighed in with advice because according to them, I walk away (true), I'm mean (also true) and I let the men I've dated live down to my expectations.  So this time, I'm keeping a positive outlook (or as positive and outlook as one as jaded as me can keep), I'm being open to the good things that can happen between us and I'm finding enjoyment in the things we do.  All the while trying to keep my head about me.  I'm exhausted just typing it all out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think it comes down to trust for me.  I don't trust easily and letting someone inside that trust takes years.  And the fact that NotAFreak keeps revealing truths about me that I haven't told him about, gives him sneaky pieces of my trust and I'm not happy about it.  But maybe that's what has to happen.  Because I fight my mind and my heart on  just about everything, that the man who's going to have a hope of having any type of relationship with me is going to have to outsmart both to get a fair chance…and if they can untangle that Gordian knot, then maybe…just maybe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3239988581888151158?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3239988581888151158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3239988581888151158' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3239988581888151158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3239988581888151158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-notsamantha-and-im-not-in-kansas.html' title='I’m notSamantha and I’m not in Kansas, anymore…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6614755559729257148</id><published>2009-09-17T00:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:12:01.102-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dickmatized…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt; At about four weeks in, I'm not sure what's going on, but I know it's a lot different from my past relationships.  And I can actually call it that without gagging or breaking out into a rash, go figure.  I've decided to enlist the help of several of my row dogs.  NotASong, NotMiranda and NotCharlotte have all sounded in about what they think about the situation.  Because things had smoothed out, become twisted and then smoothed out again.  I've been advised to be willing to risk something to get something back, make sure that we take things slowly and to stop thinking NotFreak will live down to my expectations.  All of which is welcome and hardy advice and I've been applying it as much as I can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And then there's the part that I'm usually in more control of but seem to be failing in that regard as well.  The sex.  In a word its fantastic, in two words its absolutely fabulous.  And so I'm at risk of being dickmatized…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*gives self mental slap*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What is being dickmatized you ask…I point you to the Urban dictionary, which defines it as such: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 72pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:12pt;"  &gt;When a girl can not concentrate on anything else because she is distracted with the DICK of her latest piece of ass. Her work is jeopardized, she's a sell out to her girlfriends, she picks up his shit including his kids or whatever. She will do whatever it takes for the DICK. Even if the dick isn't all that great, she doesn't know the difference because she is dickmatized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Though I will point out that I have yet to pick up his kids…and have no intention of doing so.  Because we all know about my rational fear of children.  Nor will I be selling out on my girls, because as always hoes before bros.  However, I do wonder what I'm willing to do for this dick…I'm going to have to think about that and get back to you…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, here's the last bit.  There's something there.  Feelings and stuff.  And fuck if I know what to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*sigh*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6614755559729257148?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6614755559729257148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6614755559729257148' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6614755559729257148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6614755559729257148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/09/dickmatized.html' title='Dickmatized…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7688797649634115493</id><published>2009-09-07T23:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T23:41:37.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In Which NotSamantha tames her inner Shrew?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;So this week was filled with enlightenment on the relationship front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I had a late dinner/early breakfast with NotAFreak and I realized that my absolute need to control everything will never apply in this relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He's got my number and called me on it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was under the impression that I could bend this relationship to my will and get what I wanted out of it and walk away, but now, I don't think that's going to be possible.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So after being visited by a company of ironies in the form of a conversation and Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew."  I'm going to do some of my own taming and decide if I'm woman enough to drop the control act and just enjoy the experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7688797649634115493?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7688797649634115493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7688797649634115493' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7688797649634115493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7688797649634115493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/09/in-which-notsamantha-tames-her-inner.html' title='In Which NotSamantha tames her inner Shrew?'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2919192282234103684</id><published>2009-09-01T23:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T23:24:55.092-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The More things Change...</title><content type='html'>Its been a while since I've done this, so hopefully I remember how.  Like riding a bike and all of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've started dating again...or rather I've been on one pseudo-date and I'm not really sure if this is what counts as dating.  Let me back up and give you some history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NotKoi emailed me a few weeks ago and asked if she could pass my email addy on to this guy she knew that she thought I would hit it off with.  Since, I had just that previous weekend told NotASong that I was ready to hit the dating road again, I figured this was a great opportunity.  I said yes.  And soon thereafter, NotAFreak entered my world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's suave, he's sexy...he's the father of several children (that alone made me almost want to forget I had agreed to talk to him at all) and he's charming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first date was unconventional.  A party full of people who I didn't know, but he was more than familiar with.  Add to that, him bringing his "row dog" for me to hang with and we've got ourselves an interesting puzzle with too many pieces and not enough holes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I'm attempting to date him, and I'll keep you updated on the going's on, but its really in the beginning stages and we all know that I'm famous for getting fed up and going with the wind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2919192282234103684?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2919192282234103684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2919192282234103684' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2919192282234103684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2919192282234103684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/09/more-things-change.html' title='The More things Change...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-9197637095553468446</id><published>2009-04-19T20:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T20:55:20.584-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shatter</title><content type='html'>Those in glass houses should not throw stones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-9197637095553468446?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/9197637095553468446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=9197637095553468446' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/9197637095553468446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/9197637095553468446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/04/shatter.html' title='Shatter'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6129482495651318245</id><published>2009-02-01T23:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T23:38:41.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Was That...</title><content type='html'>Tumbleweed?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6129482495651318245?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6129482495651318245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6129482495651318245' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6129482495651318245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6129482495651318245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/02/was-that.html' title='Was That...'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2444004695056224552</id><published>2009-01-05T21:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:13:37.012-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='2009'/><title type='text'>Welcome to 2009!!</title><content type='html'>Okay, so the ladies of NSATC have been busy living it up…and I know that we haven't kept you up to date, but it's a new year and since the ending part of 2008 sucked for me, I'm sure that 2009 will bring me nothing but good things.  Which I will definitely be sharing with you guys (if there's anyone still left).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2444004695056224552?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2444004695056224552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2444004695056224552' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2444004695056224552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2444004695056224552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2009/01/welcome-to-2009.html' title='Welcome to 2009!!'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2068310318694501577</id><published>2008-11-26T00:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:14:01.736-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WTF'/><title type='text'>Well Fuck...</title><content type='html'>So, last Friday while getting it on with NotChrisRock, he says to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to be monogamous."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2068310318694501577?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2068310318694501577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2068310318694501577' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2068310318694501577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2068310318694501577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/11/well-fuck.html' title='Well Fuck...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7937444612295766658</id><published>2008-11-06T21:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:08:56.192-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>That's How Strong My Love Is</title><content type='html'>Oh, Otis Redding...you break my heart and make it all warm at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If I was the sun way up there&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'd go with love most everywhere&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll be the moon when the sun goes down&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just to let you know that I'm still around&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, oh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, baby, baby,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll be the weeping willow drowning in my tears&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You can go swimming when you're here&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll be the rainbow when the sun is gone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wrap you in my colors and keep you warm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, darling,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, baby,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, oooh,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll be the ocean so deep and wide&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll get out the tears whenever you cry,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll be the breeze after the storm is gone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To dry your eyes and love you warm&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, baby,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, darling,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's how strong my love is, so deep in,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well, that's how strong my love is&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So much love, yes so much love, oohh,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes so much love, yes so much love,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anything that I can do, I'll be good for you,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Any kind of love you want, I'll be with you....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~NotCarrie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7937444612295766658?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7937444612295766658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7937444612295766658' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7937444612295766658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7937444612295766658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/11/thats-how-strong-my-love-is.html' title='That&apos;s How Strong My Love Is'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7004619174077971555</id><published>2008-10-12T18:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T18:40:01.275-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fearlessly Calling Bluffs.</title><content type='html'>I'm NotLexi, I've been reading this blog for sometime and am very good friends with NotCharlotte, who asked me to be a guest writer. Why? I can only assume she's amused by my manner of relating my various misadventures. She obviously thought other people might get a kick out of it as well.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Rewind to summer of 2005. I was a sophomore in college, and killing time. One particular afternoon, my buddy, NotBatman and I find ourselves hanging out with our other buddy, NotTheRiddler at the apartment in Georgetown in which he's renting a room from a guy he knows from work. We were there because the roommate has a big screen TV and ALL the channels, and we're not people who want to miss out on an oppurtunity to watch softcore porn on a big screen TV for free, also we were told there was a Five Guys nearby, so basically it was a situation that couldn't go wrong. As we're awkwardly standing around, NotTheRiddler takes the oppurtunity to introduce us to his roommate - let's call him NotSethRogen (we'll get to why later.) So, it's the usual, this is so-and-so, this is blah-blah-blah. I should also note, that at the time I was really sick with a cold, so I was in way on top form. Anyhow, the afternoon goes off well, the porn was amusing, the hamburgers - delicious.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next day, NotTheRiddler tells me that his roommate thought I was cute. More than that, but that he would really like to do me. How flattering. So, I shrug this off. Now, I ought to also mention that at this point I was a pretty blase sort of girl, plodding along - however, somehow NotTheRiddler got this crazy idea (which he still harbours) that I am some sort of Black Widow, this may or may not be true. He tells me I'm not to "destroy the soul" of his roommate. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to Saturday night. I'd somehow managed to enter into a long winded text/email/myspace interaction with NotSeth. Eventually, I get talked into going to his improv comedy show. (No joke, he does improv comedy, hence the NotSomeoneActuallyFunny monkier.) So, I drag my long-suffering friend, NotHarleyQuinn, and NotTheRiddler and off we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny, but not really funny, funny in a kind of weak way. But, I, ladies and gentleman am a woman of almost infinite patience. We sat through it, granted, I did manage to somehow wangle us in for free, so it was really no one's loss. After the "family friendly" show, we stepped outside, I congratulated NotSeth on not being too painful. He seemed...well, let's just say he seemed excited that I had bothered to show up. He also ardently encouraged us to attend the "grown up" comedy improv. I asked if I would be allowed to make suggestions involving beastiality. Yes. Necrophilia? Yes. Well, I was sold. After enduring the second round of this madness, NotHarley and I make our way downstairs for a drink. NotSeth says he'll join us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he finally does so, it's him, one of the guys from the show and some girl. She's an important character, let's call her...Sarah. After about 15 minutes, she enthusiastically grabs his hand, and makes some ridiculous comment and being able to "deal" with him not being Jewish. She and I apparently had a world in common, Jewish being just the tip of that iceberg. Anyhow - We then realize that this dull, poorly dressed Sarah is NotSeth's girlfriend, significant other, bit'o'stuff. Well, that's interesting - considering the barrage of flirtation I had been receiving/enduring up to this point. He however did not behave like she was much a girlfriend, despite excruciating discussion of their sex life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this went on in much the same manner, with her being pathetically demonstrative and him flirting with me, until NotTheRiddler made some whiney comment about not making enough money, to which, NotSeth said "Dude, you're so greedy. All one needs in life to be happy is to be is enough money to live on, a mistress and a slave." And that, to me, was an irresistable invitation to debauched conversation. Sarah rolls her eyes (subtext: not this again.) and I plunge into hilarious BDSM related banter. Of course, he loves this, I love a good bout of perversion, and she is freaking out (rightfully so.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the party eventually broke up, he bid me fairwell with the words "call me if you need to be disciplined." Yeah right. She, who was so keen on being my new BFF, was a little pale around the gills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It has since come to my attention that they are in an "open relationship". She believes she's alright with this, and I think he certainly is. However, I think after that evening she felt a little more unstable. Because it's all very well and good to say you're okay with an open relationship...until there's a girl bitchy enough to call your bluff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and call her bluff I shall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7004619174077971555?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7004619174077971555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7004619174077971555' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7004619174077971555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7004619174077971555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/10/fearlessly-calling-bluffs.html' title='Fearlessly Calling Bluffs.'/><author><name>Colva</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-Km_CUqTWTc/S1odAnAzQfI/AAAAAAAAACE/LOTMsJ0N1b4/S220/Photo+39.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-240240306416436892</id><published>2008-10-12T16:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T16:29:41.387-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='admirer'/><title type='text'>Thanks, But No Thanks</title><content type='html'>This guy keeps hitting on me at work and while it's flattering, I really just want him to stop. The problem is, though, that I think he thinks I may be interested. See, I never recognize him when he comes in so I say hello like I do to everyone and I think he mistakes my smile and happiness for being excited to see him. Yesterday when he came by someone else went to say hello to him and he said hi, then came straight to where I was and said to the other guy, "I came to see her." (OMG) Of course, I was caught by surprise and in the miliseconds that this all happened, I was saying hello and smiling like I do to everyone (So you can see how he would mistake this interaction for me being happy to see him).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*SIGH*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time he came in, I honestly thought that maybe I had misunderstood him when he said he wanted to buy me coffee. This time there was nothing ambigious about what he said. He wants to " come back and see" me and "take [me] out for coffee". I don't know what to do when he says these things, though, because I am not in an environment where I can be mean or in a place like a bar where I can just leave. NotSnape, a coworker, made it even worse later when he told me that my inadvertant blushing* probably sealed the deal for the guy. Crap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't know what to do. My only plan so far is to have either NotSnape or NotGraceful** come be protective and boyfriend-like when this admirer is there. I can't just say, "I'm not interested" because then he has the opportunity to take it all back and said, "That's not what I meant!" and how mortifying would that be!? I'm also hoping that I now recognize him sooner so I can not smile when I say hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I told NotBecky, it's tough being so gorgeous and charming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~NotCarrie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*It was really warm in there. I was so hot.&lt;br /&gt;**Did I change his name? I thought I had. Hmmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-240240306416436892?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/240240306416436892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=240240306416436892' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/240240306416436892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/240240306416436892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/10/thanks-but-no-thanks.html' title='Thanks, But No Thanks'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2729736844001509608</id><published>2008-10-11T21:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T21:49:02.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruminations on a Theme</title><content type='html'>So things with Starbucks guy didn't pan out.  We went out a few times and I realized that either he was intimidated by me, or I was too old for him.  Either way, we still have our little conversations when I happen to see him on my morning passing through that warm room of caffienated heaven and we send random Palin-related texts to each other sometimes.  It is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to go on a date tonight with the man that thumb licked my face.  His persistence was trying to pay off and I finally consented to letting him take me out for a drink and to see a comedy show. &lt;br /&gt;It was Thursday and we were chatting online and he said "ok, let's go at 8, I'll pick you up at your house." Then he quickly signed off, saying he needed to study and eat dinner.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't hear from him the rest of the evening, nor on Friday, or the good part of today.  I began to be amused.  He wasn't a detail-oriented guy, but you would think he'd ask where exactly it was that I lived before he decided to not talk to me again before we had our date.&lt;br /&gt;Around 730, he sends me a text, asking for my address.  Yes, 30 minutes before we were expected to jet off to DC.  Why didn't I give him my address before, you ask?  I was too busy being amused at his insistence of planning the date and not asking my opinion, that I thought it was his job to ask me where he should pick me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was telling notmiranda about this as she waited for her flight home from Portland, and she asked me if I was going to rethink the whole "he's giving me attention, I'll play along with it for awhile" point of view that I've been seeing him with. &lt;br /&gt;I had a mini ephiphany and realized that hey, I want a guy that I love, not a guy that I sort of could possibly like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the dawn of a new period in the life of NotCharlotte.  I vow to not waste my time with any guy that I know will never have a chance with me.&lt;br /&gt;Harsh as that sounds, I have realized that with all of the guys I've dated in the past, I knew that I couldn't see myself with them permanently.  Within one date, hell, one hour of a date with any of them, I knew that it wasn't a permanent thing.  I stuck with it because I wanted to "gain experience" and yes, on some occassions I did happen to fool myself into "loving" the person I was with, but now I think I've had enough of those situations.  I need to start trusting my judgment, not making exceptions for what I think I could possibly deal with for the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2729736844001509608?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2729736844001509608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2729736844001509608' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2729736844001509608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2729736844001509608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/10/ruminations-on-theme.html' title='Ruminations on a Theme'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6434545007891290548</id><published>2008-10-10T23:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:14:45.895-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='what you wish for'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='psycho babble'/><title type='text'>He's everything I want...can I give him back now...</title><content type='html'>NotChrisRock has told me in no uncertain terms that I'm contrary for no reason, than to be contrary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to believe that he's right.  To an extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this latest relationship, I got just about everything I asked for in a partner: someone who could see through the smoke and screens I cloak myself in; someone with a backbone who would stand up to my nonesense; someone to cuddle with, etc, etc.  The list seems to go on for a bit.  So now that I've had a sample of the good life, what do I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To give it back with every fiber of my being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NotChrisRock is great, but he does a lot of delving into my psyche and what he's pulling out a lot of the time is not what I'm ready to deal with.  Last night was one such event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In post-coital bliss he mentioned something almost sent me running from the bed and from him.  Now, I'm stuck between re-establishing the just lovers statuse or go ahead with the status quo.  Not sure what to do, but in the end I'm now an even firmer believer in "be careful what you wish for."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6434545007891290548?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6434545007891290548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6434545007891290548' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6434545007891290548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6434545007891290548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/10/hes-everything-i-wantcan-i-give-him.html' title='He&apos;s everything I want...can I give him back now...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3828154921292621156</id><published>2008-10-05T22:54:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:16:17.872-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='puppy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='introspective'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leading'/><title type='text'>The Gild from the Lily…</title><content type='html'>As with many things that are new for me, the shine has seem to have worn off from NotChrisRock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;In fact, he made me quite angry this Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll preface this with an explanation.  I like the shiny.  I like to window shop, and I do get the opportunity to do so, I don't place a definite time limit, or general speed on which to do it in.  Normal time limits such as meeting friends or catching a movie will apply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, Friday evening started out like this:  NotChrisRock is new to the area and hasn't experienced the wonder that is Tyson's Corner.   When I suggested this as a place to go he was all for it.  I mentioned that I would like to window shop, but would also be up for a movie.  He was game, so after getting frisky with it, off we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Within 20 minutes of hitting the mall proper I realized that I had made a mistake.  He was a shopping shopper.  Not content to do window shopping or rather not content to let me window shop, he felt the need to guide me, under the guise of hand holding (dragging) from storefront to (away from) storefront.  At first I was annoyed and told him so, then I got increasingly more so.  By the time we had purchased tickets, had a beer and then walked around a bit more before returning to the movie theatre for our show, I was nearly beside myself with wanting to leave him stranded at the mall.  If it weren't for the fact that my clothing (and my favorite pair of boots), were trapped in his apartment, I probably would have too.  The final straw came in the form of a beckon, after I had exited the ladies room and was heading in a parallel line to meet up with him in front of the theatre I turned and he stood about thirty feet away calling me over (like a puppy).  For this he got both raised eyebrows and a spike in my temper.  When he continued to do so, I finally returned the gesture with one of my own (children were present so I had to refrain from telling him he was #1), but I'm sure he got the point.  Finally, when he refused to move, and I refused to move, I turned on my heels and left for the movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He appeared beside me two minutes later, where I proceeded to blast him about treating me like a puppy.  The conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 36pt;"&gt;"I don't like nor do I need to be lead around." – NS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 36pt;"&gt;"You walk so slow…why didn't you just walk over to me after you came out of the bathroom." – NCR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 36pt;"&gt;"I saw you.  We were going to meet at the theatre so I headed in that direction.  I was walking parallel to where we were going to meet." – NS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 36pt;"&gt;"But you could have just turned and come to me." – NCR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 36pt;"&gt;"I didn't want to…look I don't like you beckoning to me like I'm a puppy." – NS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This continued until we entered the theatre.  At which time, we sat, I hogged my armrest and he hogged his.  Twenty minutes into the movie his hand crept over to mine.   And forty minutes into it he draped my leg over his.  The argument in my mind, was gone, but not forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Following the movie was the trek back to the car, where the real issues turned up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;        "You're thinking, what are you thinking about?  Talk to me." – NCR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 72pt;"&gt;"I'm trying not to think right now." – NS (See for me this is when he should have let it drop and move onto other things.  I didn't want to talk about my busy week at work, my stress level with work, my issues with what happened earlier tonight, I just wanted to get in the car, go back to his place, bounce on him, have an O and then sleep until the morning.  Obviously, what I wanted didn't matter…not right then anyway.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 72pt;"&gt;"That's a cop out, what's on your mind?" – NCR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 72pt;"&gt;"I really don't want to crawl inside of my head right now, and I really don't need you analyzing me." – NS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 72pt;"&gt;"I'm not analyzing you.  I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong." – NCR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;        A snort and a laugh from me.  "You know sometimes I should keep my big mouth shut because I asked for this and I got it." – NS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What followed was the continued walk to the car.  Silently, thank god.  Followed by an even more silent ride back to his apartment, capped off by the equivalent of a Mexican standoff, tv/book style.  Finally, I asked if he was going to ignore me all night.  He then proceeded to open up with "You said you didn't want to talk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now here is where I kick myself.  I have always lamented that I didn't have someone who got me, someone who I didn't have to go into details with because they just understood me.  NotChrisRock in his own way, gets me.  And it freaks me out because he does.  And on Friday, that was the last thing I wanted to confront.  So, I explained for a bit, complained I was tired, let him drag me into the bedroom, where I proceeded to bounce on him again, get my O and then fell into a semi-satisfied sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cowardly, you bet, but I've decided that all bets are off when dealing with NotChrisRock.  He's way too good at poking at the parts of me that I'm not ready to look at yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 72pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3828154921292621156?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3828154921292621156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3828154921292621156' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3828154921292621156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3828154921292621156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/10/gild-from-lily.html' title='The Gild from the Lily…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5961461819818433453</id><published>2008-10-02T21:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T21:50:56.502-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kill mary fuck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Kill, Marry, Fuck- The Election Version</title><content type='html'>The rules are simple. You pick one to KILL. One to MARRY. And one to FUCK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joe Biden&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Barack Obama&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;John McCain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and if you're into chicks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sarah Palin&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Michelle Obama&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cindy McCain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~NotCarrie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5961461819818433453?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5961461819818433453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5961461819818433453' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5961461819818433453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5961461819818433453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/10/kill-marry-fuck-election-version.html' title='Kill, Marry, Fuck- The Election Version'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8420351725010828769</id><published>2008-09-28T19:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T19:43:14.909-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='update'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nice guy'/><title type='text'>The Backstory…</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/SOAWb_CMM8I/AAAAAAAAAAw/S4NTCq5YbTI/s1600-h/brown+eyed+girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 83px; height: 82px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/SOAWb_CMM8I/AAAAAAAAAAw/S4NTCq5YbTI/s320/brown+eyed+girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251221835546899394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;  posted by NotSamantha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I realize that while I've been tripping the fun fantastic dating life with NotChrisRock, I realize that I haven't filled you guys in on what's been going on between one visit from Aunt Flo and another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The High Points:  Following Bite Night, NotChrisRock and I continued to learn a bit about each other.  For me, I learned, while not a slob, he's not really that neat either, pet peeve sorta, but given my own bedroom's state of disarray, I gave it a pass.  Also, while at time self deprecating, he's also very honest about what he thinks about other people and sticks by his opinions, which I appreciate.  There is nothing worse than a man who can't hold onto a thought when faced with an opposing one.  He's a good cook and says he can play a mean game of cards.  Oh, and one thing, that I'm starting to like/hate about him.  HE's a football junkie.  Specifically: college football, more specifically: the SEC.  Now, as I consider myself quite the girlie girl, I've never been one for football.  I can appreciate from afar and that's about it.  However, I've found that more often than not when I'm over at NotChrisRock's apartment he's got his tv tuned to a football game or ESPN is reviewing one that he just watched.   And because this is the DC area it just wouldn't be complete with the political, and he's definitely political.   Not sure what he's learned about me, except that I like coffee and lots of it and that I can stay up until 4am and still be ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Low Points:  In the bedroom he's rocking the failboat on getting me there.  However, we introduced one of my toys and that worked out very well indeed, so I'm sort of satisfied in that regard.  He's very much into going with the flow, and I'm very much a plan it to prevent from failing and we found after a frustrating evening of trying to decide where we should go out to that week, that we were making each other angry…at least I was angry.  He's into his stuff and often to the detriment of the others (read: me) around him.  There have been several occasions when I've been over and he's been either watching a game or playing a video game and he's not stopped playing or has started one of these activities when I arrive and continues to do so.  To be honest, I'm not sure if I care.  If he were in the BF category I would be majorly pissy, as it stands I'm shrugging it off.  He makes me laugh, cooks food for me if I ask and is really good at keeping my attention off of work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Not the love of my life, but I knew that 10 seconds after meeting him.  And I'm going to take some advice from NotASong on this whole shebang.  "He's a nice guy, you deserve a nice guy…so stop looking for problems and just enjoy him while he's here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And so I am. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8420351725010828769?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8420351725010828769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8420351725010828769' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8420351725010828769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8420351725010828769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/09/backstory.html' title='The Backstory…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/SOAWb_CMM8I/AAAAAAAAAAw/S4NTCq5YbTI/s72-c/brown+eyed+girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5539308912689323406</id><published>2008-09-26T23:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T23:19:18.347-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clueless'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='balls'/><title type='text'>This is the oddest thing...</title><content type='html'>Soooo...my phone just rang and its NotChrisRock.  He says, "I've just put a pot of coffee on for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*raised eyebrow*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Am I supposed to be coming over?" From me, she who now wears the clueless hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, I'll see you when you get here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, lets step back a bit.  I've made no plans to see NotChrisRock tonight.  Mainly, because I can't get any because Aunt Flo is visiting.  He knows this as well.  So why the invite? or lure since its coffee?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to appreciate his self confidence, but the chutzpah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5539308912689323406?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5539308912689323406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5539308912689323406' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5539308912689323406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5539308912689323406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-is-oddest-thing.html' title='This is the oddest thing...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5086017176493989886</id><published>2008-09-26T07:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:16:41.577-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notmiranda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='things that leave me all warm and squishy in the morning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kissing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><title type='text'>Is comfortable enough</title><content type='html'>Let me begin with the fact that I never (or maybe very rarely) dream about people I'm interested in or people I know in any kind of sexual or relationship-y way. However, last night I had what amounted to the sweetest, most realistic dream about one of my own. I don't want to mention his name here right now, but he has appeared on these pages before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a lot more going on in the dream, but I'll just stick to the important parts. I was hanging out with my gentleman friend, and we were discussing our mutual friends. I confess that this one friend has been driving me crazy, and suddenly he kisses me. Full on. The odds of this particular boy doing this in real life are so slim I might win the lottery first (only b/c he is uber shy and wrapped up in layers of awkwardness). We kissed for a long time, and then pulled away and kissed again. We were happy. We were also very adult about it and honest. He looks at me, smiling, and says how comfortable that was. I smile because I was thinking the same thing. It wasn't full of passion or that "thing" that makes you think you might die if you don't kiss them again. It was just like coming home. It was the feeling that I could kiss that person any time I saw them just because I wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's my question to you all. Would comfortable be enough for you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5086017176493989886?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5086017176493989886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5086017176493989886' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5086017176493989886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5086017176493989886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-comfortable-enough.html' title='Is comfortable enough'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6218624882824853312</id><published>2008-09-25T11:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T14:06:28.622-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex and the City movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><title type='text'>Two And A Half Hours Of Sex (And The City)</title><content type='html'>I finally saw the Sex And The City movie last night. The others saw it on opening night or something, but I was not into the idea of paying too much to see it at midnight in a crowded audience. I'm a fan of matinees months after a movie came out where we're the only ones in the theatre. But enough about when I &lt;em&gt;didn't&lt;/em&gt; see it! Here are my thoughts (Oh, and if there's actually another person who hasn't seen it yet, there are spoilers ahead, I guess):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;It was definitely long, but I didn't feel like it was too drawn out. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If anything, I would have cut out more of the Samantha parts-she tends to annoy me. It was good to finally see a wang in a movie that wasn't on Kevin Bacon. Especially after all the breasts.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Speaking of...the Mirana sex scene was crazy! Whoa! Had she ever done one like that in the show? &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love Steve.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The fashion was definitely fun. My favorites were the couture wedding dresses, of course. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The best scene (acting wise) was when Charlotte yells at Big after he doesn't show up at the wedding. And when Carrie yells, "Get me out of here!" It was very "Sandra Oh". &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was going to turn the movie off if Steve didn't show up on the bridge. I'm still not happy that Samantha and Smith broke up-that's bullshit. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lily was super cute, but also a big trouble maker with that phone!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jennifer Hudson as Carrie's assistant didn't bother me as much as I expected her to. She was worst when she came off as kind of stupid and with no depth. She kind of oscillated between okay and stupid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I want Charlotte's apartment. Or Carrie's new one!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Did they ever mention or show Carrie's parents during the show?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So now they're saying they might have a second movie? What will the plot be for that, though?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Miranda is so pretty when she has a lot of eye makeup on! (Not that she does not usually.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I loved the Valentine's Day scene with the balloons, haha!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Carrie is a freak petite. This was obvious when Big proposed and was almost her height when on bended knee. I am glad I'm tall. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was glad Charlotte got some real scene instead of her usual stuff (like when she was in the shower in Mexico...it's just so...fake.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Samantha is my least favorite because every word she speaks sounds like she's doing voiceover for a p0rno. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Carrie looked super hott as a brunette! Darker is better, my friends. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;That is all. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6218624882824853312?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6218624882824853312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6218624882824853312' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6218624882824853312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6218624882824853312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/09/two-and-half-hours-of-sex-and-city.html' title='Two And A Half Hours Of Sex (And The City)'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7542882147293994481</id><published>2008-09-21T23:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:39:06.582-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>In The Meantime</title><content type='html'>1) Do you have any friends you would have sex with?&lt;br /&gt;Of course. The list is way short, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(2) Sex in the morning, afternoon or night?&lt;br /&gt;why narrow it down? Bring it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)Ever had to pull over along the road and puke?&lt;br /&gt;Yes...yuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(4) Have you ever taken your clothes off for money?&lt;br /&gt;Not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(5) Shower or bath while having sex?&lt;br /&gt;I hate baths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(6) Mexican girls or Chinese guys?&lt;br /&gt;Guys, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(7) Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed?&lt;br /&gt;Be aggressive. B-E aggressive (remember that cheer?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(8) Do you love any of your friends?&lt;br /&gt;of course&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(9) Love or Money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(10)Credit cards or cash?&lt;br /&gt;cash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) where is the weirdest place you had sex?&lt;br /&gt;backseat of my car...oh wait, that's soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(12) Camping or a 5 star hotel?&lt;br /&gt;are you kidding me? 5 star.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(14) Would you shave your entire body (including your head)?&lt;br /&gt;nooooooo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(15) Have you ever been to a strip club?&lt;br /&gt;Camelot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(16) Ever been to a bar?&lt;br /&gt;do you know me at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(17) Ever been kicked out of a bar or a club?&lt;br /&gt;ugh, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(18) Ever been so drunk someone else had to carry you?&lt;br /&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(19) Had sex in a movie theater?&lt;br /&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(20) Had sex in a bathroom?&lt;br /&gt;likely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(21) Have you ever had sex at work?&lt;br /&gt;not yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(22) Ever been to an adult store?&lt;br /&gt;yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(23) Bought something from an adult store?&lt;br /&gt;condoms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(24) Have you been caught having sex?&lt;br /&gt;no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(25) Does anyone have naughty pics of you?&lt;br /&gt;not yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(26) Ever had sex with someone and called them by the wrong name?&lt;br /&gt;hahaha no, but one time I almost said the wrong name just in general. yikes! it's still bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7542882147293994481?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7542882147293994481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7542882147293994481' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7542882147293994481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7542882147293994481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-meantime.html' title='In The Meantime'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8279707428700125967</id><published>2008-08-25T19:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T21:58:16.327-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends with benefits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kinky'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cousin flow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='biting'/><title type='text'>Its all about the Benefits, baby..</title><content type='html'>Okay so NotChrisRock got another date, at which time he took the kid gloves off and left me with a bite mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which, turned me on so much I took off almost all of my clothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank god we were in his apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now the details for those of you who just did a spit take at your screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Thursday turned into date two for myself and NotChrisRock.  We met on his side of town this time, to avoid the awkward "I don't have a car, but I'm legit conversation" that was still nagging in the back of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then proceeded down to a small shopping center where we fed my office supply addiction and then got coffee.  We had initially decided to play it loose and just do things as they struck us, but that became real old &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After coffee he suggested tv watching at his place, and while skeptical that tv is what he wanted to watch, I was confident I could fend off his paws, especially since Mother Nature had made her presence known that day.  If there is one thing that will cool my ardor quickly, its having my period.  I don't want kids and if this was fates way of telling me to just say no, I was going to stick to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to his place we went, where the idea of looking at tv got tossed after he kissed me and then bit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I have this kink about biting...I like it...a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not to proud to say I became a semi posable goo in his hands...who immediately remembered that this would not be going anywhere in my current state of Cousin Flow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while deflecting his hands from below the waistline and trying to keep my wits about me, I finally stumbled out that he couldn't put his hands down my pants.  To which he said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you're on your period, I understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blushed...this was not typical date conversation...at any time, but I soldiered on and confirmed that yes, there would be nothing doing in that area tonight, no matter how much he wanted to.  Thinking I had cooled him down with my body's betrayal.  No one was more shocked than me when he said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll just have to make you regret having your period."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will go on record here and now and say, I have never regretted more being on my cycle than I did after that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait there's more.  During the subsequent pillow talk after I was made to regret being on my period, I found that NotChrisRock and I may just have several more things in common, like the fact that neither of us is interested in being in a relationship right now.  And that this should be very casual...friends with bennies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so no love of my life, but a great friend with which to answer my bodies cravings, that's for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8279707428700125967?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8279707428700125967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8279707428700125967' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8279707428700125967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8279707428700125967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/08/its-all-about-benefits-baby.html' title='Its all about the Benefits, baby..'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-4219447331315948728</id><published>2008-08-20T21:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T21:09:01.344-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kissing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eyes open'/><title type='text'>Eyes Open</title><content type='html'>I remember reading an interview with Jessica Simpson awhile back where she said she likes to kiss with her eyes open. I happen to agree...unfortunately, my reasoning differs from hers as she said she likes to see what she's kissing and to know if she's enjoying it (I'm soooo paraphrasing here). I find that it adds a different element because it gives the opportunity to connect with sight and not just with the actual lip-lock. Keeping your eyes open the entire time is a bit creepy and may shock your partner, but I highly suggest taking a peak from time to time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-4219447331315948728?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/4219447331315948728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=4219447331315948728' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4219447331315948728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4219447331315948728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/08/eyes-open_1924.html' title='Eyes Open'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3959287156420693844</id><published>2008-08-12T23:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T22:41:53.566-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kindredstry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><title type='text'>Chemistry without Sparks?  I'm sure there's some scientific dating term for this...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, OkCupid has netted me one date thus far, since I last posted about signing up online (again) and trying to re-enter the dating world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for that one date it was, in a word okay, which as we all know is the death knell of any male I'm seeing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were no sparks, but chemistry, of a sort was present, I think I'll dub it Kindredstry since it felt like we had known each other long enough to get along, but not long enough to feel that flicker of attraction.  NotChrisRock (because I swear that's who he looks like and jokes like for that matter), was funny, open and great to talk to.  Which, are all pluses in his favor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there are the minuses...He's touchy feely (I think hand holding and PDAs should be built up to since we've only just met in person), he doesn't have a car (but in his defense I found out he's only lived in the DC Metro area for the last three months), and has facial hair (superficial of me, yes, but I like a clean shaven man).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, he hasn't done anything that's a deal breaker and he keeps things interesting.  So that warrants a 2nd date.  Or according to him, dinner at his place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3959287156420693844?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3959287156420693844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3959287156420693844' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3959287156420693844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3959287156420693844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/08/chemistry-without-sparks-im-sure-theres.html' title='Chemistry without Sparks?  I&apos;m sure there&apos;s some scientific dating term for this...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-4505238096183413516</id><published>2008-08-07T17:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:17:44.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Static cling...a friend to no one</title><content type='html'>It looks like I might have to change NotMoxy's name to TooClingy. As Friday rolled around and I tried to psych myself up for my date, something kept telling me abandon ship. I'm just not a casual dater. In my world, I want to be your friend and discover one day we're madly in love. Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I do live in reality, I forced myself (with the strong encouragement of my girls) to go on this date. Since he was running late, I stationed myself at a booth near the bar and had a drink to calm my nerves. That, combined with flirting with the bar manager, seemed to help. NotMoxy eventually arrived and we had a pleasant enough evening just chatting away. He's a nice guy, and we share a lot of similar interests. The problem is that there was just no there there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that feeling when you look across the table at someone and feel absolutely nothing? No chemistry. I knew the end was near when I found myself chanting silently, "please don't try to kiss me; please don't try to kiss me," as he walked me to the metro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out the lack of chemistry must have just been on my part. The next morning I awoke to an early morning email telling me what a nice time he had and saying he hoped I would consider him my boyfriend one day. Later that afternoon, I got a voicemail from him asking how my weekend was going. This past Sunday I blew out of town for a work project that had me out of cell and internet range. When I finally returned to civilization last night, I had yet another voicemail from him telling me how he "missed me already" and wished "he had met me sooner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have not spoken to him since our date on Friday, but clearly this is something I need to nip in the bud. I wonder if they make that static cling spray for relationships.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-4505238096183413516?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/4505238096183413516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=4505238096183413516' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4505238096183413516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4505238096183413516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/08/static-clinga-friend-to-no-one.html' title='Static cling...a friend to no one'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-841835955104241309</id><published>2008-08-03T20:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T20:41:54.585-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Triple Venti Excited</title><content type='html'>There are three Starbucks I frequent during my work week. &lt;br /&gt;My favorite one is nearest to my house, at the start of my daily 45 minute commute to work.  I arrive there anywhere between 630 and 700, depending on how long I take to get ready.&lt;br /&gt;I am almost embarrassed to say this, but I have a fondness for one of my baristas.   He's tall, he's dark haired, he's scruffy, wears dark rimmed glasses.  But that's not all. He remembers my drink, every single time.&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, it's their JOB to remember my drink.  Hell, I go there so often I'm almost offended if they don't. &lt;br /&gt;But he not only remembers my drink, he remembers little facts about me.  He remembers when I'm supposed to come in and if I'm late, he asks if everything's ok.  I didn't come by for an entire week and when I came back in, he asked me where I had been.  He asked me questions about what I do for a living.  He gives me snarky attitude that makes the managers look at him funny, then look at me to gauge my response (which is, of course, smitten.  I am the QUEEN of snark).&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, NotMiranda and I stopped by for a cool drink to get us some energy for DSW.  There were five people working that day and I didn't see my dark haired coffee stallion.  I resigned myself to be rung up by the cute, albeit 17 year old blonde clerk, when who should appear through the service door but him.&lt;br /&gt;He gives blondie a look, then comes to the register I'm standing in front of, heaving bucket of ice in his arms, and starts to take my order.&lt;br /&gt;"what are you doing here?  it's not 6 in the morning!  same thing as usual?  hot or cold?"&lt;br /&gt;i stumble out my response, making small talk with him as NotMiranda smirks at the back of my head.  I had told her about my starbucks bf before and she was putting two and two together. &lt;br /&gt;He writes my order on the cup and rings me up, then goes right back to his ice filling job. &lt;br /&gt;The drink barista grabs my cup and reads it aloud and from the back storage area, he yells "and make sure it's non-fat!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's silly for me to be slightly enamoured by a caffeine slinging hunk of a man, but seriously, it's working.&lt;br /&gt;My question for you, dear readers, is how do I take it to the "next level" without ruining my lovely starbucks experience?  I'd like to at least find out his name, maybe see if he's single, but what if it goes awry? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess what I'm getting at is, do I jeopardize my favorite starbucks on the off chance that I could get a real date out of it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-841835955104241309?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/841835955104241309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=841835955104241309' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/841835955104241309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/841835955104241309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/08/triple-venti-excited.html' title='Triple Venti Excited'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5286159941219895488</id><published>2008-07-30T23:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:19:09.715-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='washington dc'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strangers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='date'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dc'/><title type='text'>Where it's at</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I've developed a new theory. I think Silver Spring (a DC suburb for those non-Washingtonians) contains an abnormally high percentage of bold single men. Most of the men my friends have met and dated recently live in Silver Spring. NotCharlotte flirted with dating a craigslister from Silver Spring. NotCurly danced into the heart of a Silver Spring boy while partying at the Black Cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Helvetica;font-size:12px;"  &gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My own Silver Spring experience seems to confirm this theory. A couple of weeks ago I had a long meeting in Silver Spring and decided to walk up to the Avenue shops and grab something different for lunch (different from my usual McPherson Square environment). Anyway, I wandered around looking at my options and finally decided on Chick-fil-a. All of a sudden this guy walks up to me and is like, "Excuse me. I saw you walking down Georgia Avenue [now...at this time I thought he was going to tell me my skirt was ripped or something] and was so amazed that I had to make the block and come find you." Personally, I seriously question his vision. It was really hot that day, and I was (in my opinion) a hot mess. Anyway, he said he just had to give me his card and that he would like to take me out to dinner. I think I was shocked. I can't remember exactly what all sputtered out of my mouth, but I do know the entire interaction was no more than a couple of minutes. I thanked him and said I would email him that night, explaining that I'm an "email" person. You could tell he didn't believe for a second I would email him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ya'll don't know me that well, but I'm not big on meeting strangers. First impressions are hard for me and bonding with people upon first meeting them is difficult. I'm more a third impression kind of girl. That said, he was attractive enough and also seemed nervous...like this was something he didn't do all the time. I found that a bit endearing. Plus, his business card indicated he did film stuff (director and editor). I figure this gave us at least had one thing in common. So, I did what any e-savvy girl would do and googled him when I got home (and also looked at his website). What I saw intrigued me, and I appreciated his moxy. I decided to email, and after jumping through some scheduling loopholes, I have a date scheduled for this Friday with NotMoxy. I'll keep you posted. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5286159941219895488?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5286159941219895488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5286159941219895488' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5286159941219895488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5286159941219895488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/where-its-at.html' title='Where it&apos;s at'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1753488800234789471</id><published>2008-07-29T21:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T21:49:26.651-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='may december'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='insane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gossip'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='older men'/><title type='text'>May December</title><content type='html'>I stared at my computer screen for at least a minute, trying to make sense of the image in front of me. A picture of the newly married husband and wife. Three days later and no sense has been made. I still can't even wrap my mind around it. I think I've told anyone I can, just to share the craziness and everyone has the same reaction: "EW!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what you say when you hear a girl two years younger than you married your college professor who is at least 60.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EW!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, maybe I'm judging the situation quickly because I haven't talked to her in a few years and haven't talked to him in an even longer time, but one thing I do know is that I am not attracted to men older than my father. The very idea kind of grosses me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past few days, as I have tried to be okay with this, I have had the following thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-OK, so maybe he's really sweet and they're in love....but in ten years he'll be 70 when she is 34! and when she is 44 he will be 80!!!! And 40 is the new 30, which makes it even worse. I can't knock the mental image of Anna Nicole Smith (RIP) kissing her decrepid, old husband. NOT HOTT!&lt;br /&gt;-OK, so I'll admit some older men have been attractive to me...but they usually don't &lt;em&gt;look&lt;/em&gt; their age and also I am not planning on marrying said man, thus beginning the inevitable "when I am this age, he will be reallllly old."&lt;br /&gt;-How did this tryst begin? How do you say, "You were always a great student. I loved your papers! NOW KISS ME!" or "You're a great teacher....that's always been a fantasy of mine..." EW!&lt;br /&gt;-How do you bring your really old boyfriend when you hang out with your friends? Don't old people go to sleep early? And need to drink Metamucil?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the biggest age difference you've had between yourself and a suitor? I think for me it's only been a few years. I kind of gave myself a rule that I wouldn't date anyone older than my brother (who is six years older than me). It just seems weird in my mind otherwise. Not that I would turn down someone amazing, but generally speaking, I am NOT a fan of the May-December romance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NotCarrie&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1753488800234789471?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1753488800234789471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1753488800234789471' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1753488800234789471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1753488800234789471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/may-december.html' title='May December'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8792325339444246706</id><published>2008-07-29T19:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T20:06:55.824-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vegas of the South</title><content type='html'>My flight had already been delayed five hours when they decided to board us.  I was all ready to go, laying my head on the wall by my window seat when I heard the man three rows behind me yell "I'm SIX FOOT SEVEN, there's NO ONE IN THE EXIT ROW.  YOU'RE TELLING me I HAVE TO PAY AN EXTRA SIXTY_FIVE DOLLARS TO SIT WHERE MY FEET AREN'T SQUISHED LIKE A FUCKING RAT IN A CAGE?!?"&lt;br /&gt;I sighed and tried to read up on Reese and Jakey.  Fifteen minutes after we had all finished boarding, the captain got on the intercom and announced that yes, we had boarded the plane, but unfortunately, we were not taking off for at least another hour.   Giant-man sighed extra loudly and we all kind of jostled around in our seats, drinking "free" water and watching Nim's Island.  After two more hours of sitting on the plane, we de-boarded, back through one of the gates at the Orlando International Airport, to wait for new, "fresh" flight attendants to fly in from DC and come back with us to our home.&lt;br /&gt;We had about an hour to go, left to fend for ourselves in a near-empty airport, considering it was nearing midnight.  I spent my time eating ritz crackers and huddling by a plug, letting my blackberry charge while I complained to my friends and family about how shitty this situation was.&lt;br /&gt;We finally boarded the plane again and somehow this man had not only found two more men, but he had also found himself a lovely seat, in the exit row... right in front of my seat.&lt;br /&gt;Now this wouldn't bother me in normal circumstances, I mean hey I've gotten a free upgrade plenty of times, but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;What bothered me was that he and his dos amigos were drunk.  And I'm not talking "woohoo tipsy," I'm talking "OK we're off the plane, let's down as much booze as possible."&lt;br /&gt;These men were in their mid-40s and as I sat there, watching them knock heads and not so subtly hitting on the flight attendants, I started to feel bad for them.&lt;br /&gt;Drunk men have no sense of right or wrong, they simply say what they feel and do what they want, damned if anyone tries to stop them.  I looked at them and thought of the many guys I've hung out with when they were in that state of inebriation.  And how stupid they were.  And how awesome I thought that was.  These men sitting in front of me, pouring their drinks all over their chair, the floor, my outstretched legs, these men are the guys I used to hang out with, all "grown up" and I was embarrassed for them!  They stood, in turn, and tried to head for the bathroom, instead knocking into the rows next to them, behind them, in front of them, all at once grabbing their temples and poor peoples' armrests, trying to make the floor stop moving.&lt;br /&gt;It was sad and amusing all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;Amusing because, twenty minutes before landing, they had finally finished their venti cups of rum and pepsi and everything started to hit.  They couldn't keep their heads upright, one of them kept muttering "where the fuck is Tyson's?" and they had just finished the "i love you, man!" stage, therefore resulting in their unwillingness to make eye contact with each other.&lt;br /&gt;It was lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope they all made it home safely, I didn't want anything bad to happen to them, it just made me reflect on the amount of times I had been around people like that.  It made me realize that I, for one, was done hanging out with guys like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8792325339444246706?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8792325339444246706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8792325339444246706' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8792325339444246706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8792325339444246706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/vegas-of-south.html' title='Vegas of the South'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1726135254226345391</id><published>2008-07-23T21:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T21:39:22.174-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><title type='text'>Just Don't Call It Spooning</title><content type='html'>It's amazing how quickly a person can get used to sleeping in the same bed as someone else. And by "get used to" I mean "want it all the time".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1726135254226345391?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1726135254226345391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1726135254226345391' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1726135254226345391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1726135254226345391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/just-dont-call-it-spooning.html' title='Just Don&apos;t Call It Spooning'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3557336843150882538</id><published>2008-07-12T15:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T16:49:18.115-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='not dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='&quot;the One&quot;'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lemmings'/><title type='text'>A Lemming? Who me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Once again, I've decided to try out online dating services (is it really a service if you don't work with someone?), in order to get a date.  Given that I've signed up for OKCupid, Match.com (again) and AdultFriendFinder (again) and haven't heard a peep is sort of discouraging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/"&gt;OKCupid&lt;/a&gt; is the latest and greatest and while I've gotten little to no response to my profile I have been stalked a few times (which is equal parts encouraging and disturbing), I've yet to have someone actually send me a note (or comment, or whatever the hell you get).  I'm not going to question my profile, survey or pictures that I have posted, but I'm starting to wonder about my age group and dating.  What I mean is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have we gotten lazy about the prospect of finding a date?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, I've heard of people finding "the One" when they've finally decided to stop looking.  Could that be what's happened?  Did I miss the boat on the whole movement to officially 'not look' for my person?  Not to say that I've been hitting the dating pool every chance I get, but should I even try?  In the most lemming of thoughts, because no one else is doing it sounds like a good out right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3557336843150882538?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3557336843150882538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3557336843150882538' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3557336843150882538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3557336843150882538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/lemming-who-me.html' title='A Lemming? Who me?'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-275313343339369408</id><published>2008-07-09T01:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T01:56:03.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Renovating</title><content type='html'>Please excuse our mess. The person who designed our blog four years ago didn't get proper permission from the artist to use the lovely images you're used to seeing a the top. We'll be a bit naked but promise to come back with a new and exciting (*cough*) legal design!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-275313343339369408?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/275313343339369408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=275313343339369408' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/275313343339369408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/275313343339369408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/renovating.html' title='Renovating'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2889834540472703443</id><published>2008-07-05T22:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T23:22:57.458-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ohhh REALLY?</title><content type='html'>So I last left you guys with the story of NotGreeny telling me how he'd stop smoking for me.  This was back in January, where I think my need for cuddly heat was in higher demand than my need to have a respectable sense of mind, so I believed him.  We hung out a few more times and when he asked me to hang out with him on Valentine's Day, I hesitantly said yes.  Hesitantly because in my mind, V-Day is kind of a big deal, seeing as how most American's find that the perfect day to give chocolates, cards, and sex.&lt;br /&gt;No, we had not had sex.  Nor did I want to have sex with him.  I mean, if the kissing was that bad... I think you know where I'm going with this.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he asked me to come over around 8 and I had also been invited to an Indie Singles Party at my friend NotMexican's house, which I was going to attend with my best boo NotRVA, so I had a good excuse to leave early, if the situation got to that point.&lt;br /&gt;I arrive at his house promptly at 8, only to find myself calling his cell phone, which seemed to be disconnected.  I had never been to his house before, so I had no idea if I was at the right house when all of a sudden he shows up at his front door, on his phone.  Weird.&lt;br /&gt;So we go inside and I give him a hug (he did give good hugs, definite bonus) and then we head downstairs to his basement/den/tv room setup.&lt;br /&gt;I'm telling you, if I could have been in a relationship with his den, I would be a happy, happy woman.  It was done cabin-style, with wood paneling that made me feel like I was in Denver, not some 70s movie.  He had a projection screen set up with a comfy couch and to the right was a raised platform with a huge hot tub filled with pillows.&lt;br /&gt;I was so distracted by the awesomeness that was my future den-bf that I didn't notice the array of goodies that NotGreeny had gotten me.  Sitting on a little side table, in careful array, were the following items:&lt;br /&gt;- 1 bouquet of multi colored tulips&lt;br /&gt;- 1 magazine, featuring robots&lt;br /&gt;- 1 gigantic box of chocolates&lt;br /&gt;- 1 mini pack of homemade sushi&lt;br /&gt;My heart sort of melted and I awkwardly said thank you and I sat on the edge of his couch while he set up a movie.   He decided we'd watch "Blow," which I had never seen before.  No more than 10 minutes into the movie, he decides to attack my face, full force.  I kind of go with it for a few minutes, but as soon as he starts kneading one of my breasts like pizza dough, I tell him that I really want to watch the movie.&lt;br /&gt;This happens two more times before I realize, oh hey yeah I need to go.&lt;br /&gt;I grab the flowers and chocolate and bolt.  I'm halfway to NotRVA when I get a text "hey you forgot your magazine and flowers, lolz."  I ignore it and have a halfway decent time waxing poetic with people in a room holding too many pairs of leggings and just about the same number of neck scarves.&lt;br /&gt;What happens next is when I start to get worried.  A few days later I see that his Facebook page has a bit of activity.  As in, he has changed his status to "In A Relationship."  Surely, he's found someone else?  I confront him about this and he goes "Yeah, well you know I wanted you to know that I wasn't interested in anyone else, that I just want to be with you."&lt;br /&gt;I was at a loss for words.  So I didn't respond right away.  He continues, "So yeah you want me to "add" you?"  I told him absolutely not and, in fact, I thought we were better suited as friends.  This did not go over well and he proceeded to "ignore" me for the next week and instead show his emotions through Myspace bulletin posts and FB status changes.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, for the love of technologically advanced Millenials.&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks go by and we text a little bit here and there.&lt;br /&gt;April came around and, since he's a graphic designer, I asked him if he would like to design the opening production credit for our budding movie company.  He was more than stoked and so was I.  I had seen some of his stuff and knew that he could handle what I had in mind.&lt;br /&gt;Until he started talking payment.  Keep in mind that the last time I had seen him was VALENTINE'S DAY.&lt;br /&gt;"So when I'm finished, I'll take you out to dinner and then we can hang out at my place and watch movies.  Then we'll go up to Great Falls and hang out and it'll be wonderful."&lt;br /&gt;I then realized that the friendship thing probably wasn't going to work out.  I was going to have to weigh anchor and let this poor boy sail on without any of NotCharlotte's "good graces" to help him along.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to do in order to get him off my back, so I consulted one of my best guy friends, NotItaliano.  He suggested that I tell him I've met someone else.  There's no denying the fact that telling NotGreeny I had started dating someone else would show him that I was no longer interested in him.&lt;br /&gt;I decided to tell him this over IM.  Our conversation went like this:&lt;br /&gt;Me: NotGreeny, I have to tell you that I've met someone else.&lt;br /&gt;Him: What?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm sorry, but I told you awhile ago that we were just going to be friends and I can't have you thinking that we're something more.&lt;br /&gt;Him: I can't handle this right now, I'm going to GameStop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, my friends, is how my fauxlationship went with NotGreeny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2889834540472703443?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2889834540472703443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2889834540472703443' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2889834540472703443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2889834540472703443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/07/ohhh-really.html' title='Ohhh REALLY?'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6745242498135746475</id><published>2008-06-27T08:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:21:16.826-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='homework'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex toys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babeland'/><title type='text'>Gold digger</title><content type='html'>When the girl at my leasing office handed me the unmarked package, I giggled a little. I then slid the package under my arm and trotted off to play naughty Santa and deliver part of the contents to NotCarrie and NotSamantha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe giggling isn't the response a sophisticated woman would have. She might take the box upstairs and add its content to her growing collection. She would probably send a proper email to her girls letting them know the contents had arrived. I am not a sophisticated woman. I am girl who has never* owned a &lt;a href="http://www.babeland.com/?img=17&amp;amp;kbid=937"&gt;sex toy&lt;/a&gt; and thought the arrival of said toys was hilarious. I am not a one-at-a-time emotion kind of girl and was feeling nervous/excited/curious/adventurous. So, like any nervous/excited/curious/adventurous girl with a hilarious box in her hand, I needed share the moment with my compadres.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally made it back home a few hours later, I took Gold Digger out of the package and set it on my coffee table. I'm pretty sure I cocked my head to the side as I eyed this smooth six-inch faux wang with a few gold studs at the base.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a while since I have gotten some action, and I have found that on the nights when I get more sleep and can remember my dreams they have typically been about my obtaining said action from various guys. Despite my subconscious telling me I clearly had needs to fulfill, I approached my faux wang from a bit like a researcher approaches a stem cell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Switching vibe speed appeared easy enough, since it just required slight movement of the base. Was I ready to test drive it? Hell, was I even in the mood after being so empirical? I will readily admit that the six inches scared me a bit. I probably made every guy's day who has an average weenie. The thing is, I learned that I don't need it supersized after my first visit to the gyno where they had to bust out the small contraption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did I learn from Gold Digger?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1) Had my high school boyfriend and I actually had sex his nine-inch penis would have probably killed me;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(2) When used at high speed, all I could think about was whether my neighbors thought I bought a motorboat; and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(3) Maybe it should have been called the Silver Digger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*The vibrating duck NotSamantha got me for my 29th birthday doesn't count. It's a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;duck&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6745242498135746475?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6745242498135746475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6745242498135746475' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6745242498135746475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6745242498135746475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/gold-digger.html' title='Gold digger'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7778724891755492687</id><published>2008-06-25T20:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T21:47:10.245-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babeland.com'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><title type='text'>O!</title><content type='html'>When we were first presented with list of products from which to choose for review, I, for some reason, chose the &lt;a href="http://store.babeland.com/men-sleeves/vibrating-o-sleeve"&gt;Vibrating O Sleeve&lt;/a&gt;. I guess I like a challenge, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While, unlike &lt;a href="http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-deserve-so-much-bigger.html"&gt;NotSamantha&lt;/a&gt;, I am not going to be giving out perky nipples for this product, but I will give some words of advice:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do not get the product from your friend* while at work where just about anyone could see what is passing hands**. This could result in extreme embarrassment, a gnarly rumor, or tears from laughing so hard.&lt;br /&gt;2. I would suggest using the Vibrating O Sleeve with someone you are very comfortable with. It's a tricky moment to introduce this in the bedroom without offending your mate. "Here honey, put this on your wang to make it longer! AND it widens the girth!" "Gee...thanks."&lt;br /&gt;3. Also keep in mind that you might need to loosen him up a little bit before you suggest he put this on. While it's soft and durable, I can see how it would look like a painful contraption to some.&lt;br /&gt;4. This is almost like a two in one product. No, three in one. You can use it alone, you can use it with him, or he can use it on you. Reow!&lt;br /&gt;5. Did I mention the end vibrates on contact?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best of luck,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;NotCarrie&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*The products were sent together, to NotMiranda, who then distributed them to us.&lt;br /&gt;**Why does that sound so dirty?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7778724891755492687?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7778724891755492687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7778724891755492687' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7778724891755492687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7778724891755492687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/o.html' title='O!'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7375862805951475184</id><published>2008-06-23T06:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T07:15:14.241-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's not and say we did?</title><content type='html'>Shortly after NotHarry and I stopped talking to each other, I started dating one of his friends, NotGreeny.  He was younger than me (21 to my 24), an art student/graphic designer, and came from a rich family.&lt;br /&gt;Who was I to argue when he asked me out?&lt;br /&gt;Ignoring my friends' newfound nickname of "Cougar," I went to a diner with him, where we proceeded to have a pretty good time, laughing about mutual movie interests and music.  He told me I was saved in his phone as the character I dressed as for Halloween and I thought it was endearing.  He gave good hugs, opened doors for me, even let me order my food first.  In all, it wasn't a bad date.&lt;br /&gt;We made plans for a second meeting, this time he came over to my house, since I was having one of my traditional Wine &amp;amp; Board Game Nights.  He arrived earlier than the other guests and we sat on my couch watching Freaks &amp;amp; Geeks and behaving like high schoolers.  He did the whole "scoot an inch closer every time I coughed" move, then slowly grabbed for my hand.  It felt cute and innocent.  Then he finally went in for the kill.&lt;br /&gt;He attacked my face like a seal does fish.  He pretty much wrapped his entire mouth around mine, bordering on sealing my nostrils in his gaping maw, darting his tongue in and out of my mouth with the voracity of an out of sync metronome.  After about 30 seconds of this, I backed away, telling him to slow it down a little.  We went back to watching tv, me finding little ways to wipe the spittle off my face and him grinning at me like he thought I wanted it.&lt;br /&gt;Soon after that, my friends arrived and I was relieved.  We sat in my living room, playing our favorite games and having a good time.  NotGreeny stands up and declares he is going to the convenience store for cigarettes and he would be back soon.  We all sort of shrug and continue our intense round of Apples to Apples, not thinking much of it.&lt;br /&gt;About 20 minutes later, he comes back in and sits down.  A familiar, yet uninviting smell trails in with him and my close girl friend NotTypeA looks at me and mouths "Pot?"&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, she was right.  NotGreeny had decided to take it upon himself to sit in his car, in the middle of my stuck up, middle class neighborhood, and smoke up.&lt;br /&gt;From this point on, my friends were pretty rude to him and I couldn't make eye contact with him.   About an hour later, after much chiding from my buds that he couldn't even participate in the game because he was so stoned, he decided to leave.  I walked him to the door and he apologized, saying my friends made him feel really uncomfortable.  I told him they had every right to feel uncomfortable, he violated my trust and my values.  He knew about my no tolerance policy when we were just friends, yet he was so concerned about his "well being" that he didn't think it would matter.&lt;br /&gt;I went back to my party and we continued our game.  I got a text from NotGreeny a little bit later saying "I'll quit smoking for you, that's how much you mean to me."&lt;br /&gt;I guess I was feeling nice, so I gave him a second chance.  In hindsight, maybe that wasn't such a good idea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*to be continued*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7375862805951475184?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7375862805951475184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7375862805951475184' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7375862805951475184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7375862805951475184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/lets-not-and-say-we-did.html' title='Let&apos;s not and say we did?'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8878343279381856925</id><published>2008-06-22T00:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T00:25:22.481-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babeland.com'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex with myself'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jollie dildo'/><title type='text'>I deserve so much bigger...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;Disclaimer:  This post may cause a spit take, so mind your monitor while sipping your tea, coffee, etc. while reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As explained by NotMiranda, we girls have been given the opportunity to review products from the &lt;a href="http://www.babeland.com/"&gt;Babeland.com&lt;/a&gt; website.  So this is my first review of the product that I chose to test. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I picked the &lt;a href="http://www.jolliespleasuretoys.com/pleasure-toys-products.htm"&gt;Jollie&lt;/a&gt; dildo.  And now another disclaimer:  I'm a vibe girl, so take this with a huge grain of salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now while I'm a self respecting size queen, I was willing to give the 4-inch insertable a try.  When held backwards and upright, it resembles a loaded shotgun.   And it was with tongue in cheek that I hoped it would go off (or at least get me off) with a minimum of fuss.  It's made of medical grade silicone and comes in a myriad of colors and styles (Babeland only carried grape, so I wasn't able to see if the nubblies of the bubble one added and additional sensation to the product).   I tried it out on two separate occasions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you remember from this blog, I have an extensive collection of porn and I like my movies, which means that at least one hand has to be free to do some walking when playing with a new toy.   While the Jollie is easily insertable (eventually, I'd like to see how their lube holds up to what I have), and does hit all of the spots the map on the back of its container says it will, I felt it required more than one hand to get the full function of it.  The 'easy-grip handle' is not easy to grip when coated with lube (and other liquidy things, of which I won't mention in detail) and the nubbies on the side that are for clit stimulation don't do much for me.   However, the g-spot hump that's built into the Jollie makes it worth the work…somewhat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have to agree with one of the reviewers on the site that making it slightly longer (or much much longer in my case) would be a vast improvement to the Jollie…also a little vibrating action (otherwise known as the &lt;a href="http://www.jolliespleasuretoys.com/pleasure-toys-products.htm"&gt;Vibrating Jollet&lt;/a&gt;) wouldn't go amiss.  I give this toy a 3.5 out of 5 perky nipples for interesting design and the ability to mostly do what its designed for.   I'll consider the vibrating version of this if I ever come back to the product.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8878343279381856925?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8878343279381856925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8878343279381856925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8878343279381856925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8878343279381856925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-deserve-so-much-bigger.html' title='I deserve so much bigger...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-4715187474557237325</id><published>2008-06-18T00:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:48:45.258-04:00</updated><title type='text'>An adventurous new spirit</title><content type='html'>Sometimes certain things happen to you that just make you shake your head and laugh. It's usually these life experiences that I chalk up to being the makings of a good story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our life story here recently got more interesting when we were approached by the folks at Babeland about testing a few of their products. Don't get me wrong, we have been approached by a wide variety of outfits (mostly promoting DVDs or lingerie or new sex toys), and we have never before considered partnering or linking or promoting any of them. We're not here to make money or to sell anything, so there was never any appeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babeland, however, was different. First, here was a company with a good social conscious that we could actually support. They are at the top of their game and actually care about their customers. Plus, we're not stupid. We really couldn't turn down free toys even though the very thought that anyone would think our opinions on this subject mattered cracked us up! Personally, I can't think of a better story for explaining a suddenly large sex toy collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the laughter and the disbelief, we agreed. So, periodically you will start to see "reviews" of certain toys on this site. What you won't see is a traditional review. We really aren't trying to sell you anything and just figure we owe you an honest opinion about the latest merchandise in the form of our stories and shenanigans. If you happen to buy it, then more power to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-4715187474557237325?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/4715187474557237325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=4715187474557237325' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4715187474557237325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/4715187474557237325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/adventurous-new-spirit.html' title='An adventurous new spirit'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3837466745542047034</id><published>2008-06-16T21:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T22:11:54.504-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='el sexo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='no sleep'/><title type='text'>If Only...</title><content type='html'>I would like for there to be a boy on my bed who would keep me up all night even though I have to be to work at 7am. Sleep is seriously overrated...at least for a night. That's the &lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt; reason to take a nap in the afternoon. Mmmmhmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas, I think I will be sleeping alone tonight. I'm probably never going to get any sleep once I don't have roommates, haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3837466745542047034?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3837466745542047034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3837466745542047034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3837466745542047034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3837466745542047034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/if-only.html' title='If Only...'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-484118801208717513</id><published>2008-06-10T17:40:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T20:18:09.776-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='threesome'/><title type='text'>Its all about me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I don't see anything wrong with wanting to have a go with two guys at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I think I'll make that my goal this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-484118801208717513?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/484118801208717513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=484118801208717513' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/484118801208717513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/484118801208717513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-all-about-me.html' title='Its all about me...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8509282012273694361</id><published>2008-06-08T20:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T21:19:57.123-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='making out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='makeout'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='turn ons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><title type='text'>The Best And Worst Of It</title><content type='html'>I keep getting invitations on Facebook to take those likeness quizzes, which are always about sex. Why is that, anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got me thinking, though. What &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; the worst thing to happen while having sex? Or, where is the best place to makeout? Or even, ways to get rid of a &lt;a href="http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/second-times-charm.html"&gt;bad &lt;/a&gt;date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here are my thoughts on the matters at hand. Some are from the actual pages, but some I'm just saying on my own. And omg don't even try to think these things have necessarily happened to me. Please add your own thoughts in the comment section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Worst Things To Happen While Having Sex:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Someone walks in (especially a relative).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Someone yells the wrong name (Just don't yell names, ok?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dog starts to hump, too. (This was on the FB one. OMG, I would die. That's disgusting.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He turns out to be a she...or vice versa. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Someone has a gastrointestinal problem. (EW)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fall off the bed and gets hurt. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Someone has to vomit.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best Places To Makeout:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;On a couch.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On a pier.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In a car.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Elevator&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pool/Ocean/Hot tub&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wait, where is it NOT good to makeout? As long as it's not excessively PDAish, right?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ways To Get Rid Of A Bad Date:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sick&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be honest&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Change the clocks so it seems later.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Food poisoning&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ways To Be Turned On:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slow, Intent Kissing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Porn (Not for this girl, though. No thank you.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Back rub/Massage&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dirty Talk (This can so border on funny, though.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Holding Hands&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Alcohol&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;So...what do you have to add to the lists?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8509282012273694361?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8509282012273694361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8509282012273694361' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8509282012273694361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8509282012273694361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/best-and-worst-of-it.html' title='The Best And Worst Of It'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3680513242187446871</id><published>2008-06-06T23:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T23:41:33.914-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waiters'/><title type='text'>Get your flirt on...</title><content type='html'>I'm usually not one to flirt.  Very unNotSamantha of me I know, but tonight when the last thing on my mind was flirting and showing interest in a guy I end up doing it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work this week had been hell and all I wanted was a glass of wine, a good dinner and some great conversation with NotAMystic.  Since work was shot and according to NAM I was in for at least another week of it, "because Mercury is in retrograde, take deep breathes and bear with it," when our waiter finally came by I upgraded my wine to a martini and decided that if for no other reason I would get some comfort food out of this meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An introduction of the special and a delivered martini later and I was ready to detox.  Our waiter kept us both entertained and for me, intrigued.  A rare sort who actually smiled with his whole face instead of the polite smile that those who work in the restaurant biz often have.   And trust me when I say I'm no soft touch when it comes to service.  I like my glass kept full, my waiter to be un-intrusive and my meal to be hot when it reaches my table.  Outside of that, I don't have much else that needs to be taken care of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight's server, however, proved that it is possible to combine charisma with style and a mild dose of flirting and get something that appeals to this woman.  Speaking of the waiter, he was a fine specimen.  Tall, broad of shoulder, bright of smile and he even had glasses, I couldn't tell if he passed the other physical factor of lack of body hair, but in my mind's eye I pictured him without it.  When I first rushed in he was there to actually adjust the table and even put my napkin in my lap, that was a first, so a raised eyebrow for that one.  Throughout the meal and he came by and struck up not one but two conversations and asked more questions about me, than what kind of coffee I wanted with dessert.  By the time I was leaving for the evening, he made sure to stop by and ask that I come back again soon.  Now, I'm sure he's got tips to make (and boy did I tip him!), but I can catch a hint, even when its lobbed as lightly as his was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you can't find me next Friday, I'll be going back to my restaurant and getting a seat in his section, this time by myself to see if this same waiter/patron chemistry is real or just a figment of my man hungry imagination.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3680513242187446871?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3680513242187446871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3680513242187446871' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3680513242187446871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3680513242187446871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/get-your-flirt-on.html' title='Get your flirt on...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1549679968336112127</id><published>2008-06-05T21:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T22:20:26.434-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcharlotte'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reunion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='licking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notharry'/><title type='text'>Second time's the charm...</title><content type='html'>I have returned. Life these past few months have been crazy. Both in good and bad ways, but in general I'm doing great. I've learned so much about myself and about who I want to be with, who I want my friends to be, even how I specifically like my coffee, that I felt it was time to come back and share some of my thoughts with you all again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm no longer with NotHarry. I really don't want to talk about what happened between us. I think you all remember how I left this blog and that's one chapter that will remain closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I will share with you one of my new favorite "bad date" stories that I have endured the past few weeks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Thursday I had the pleasure of a second date with NotPilot. We had met the previous Friday at Artomatic in dc and there was a little fizzling of chemistry, so the next obvious step was to meet again. He asked me out to dinner and I consented.&lt;br /&gt;We met at one of my favorite restaurants and sat outside with some drinks. Conversation went okay, he alarmed me with a 15 minute rant about adoption, followed by a blatant disregard for my questioning his religious attendance to a Unitarian Church when he is a "fierce" Athiest. He then asked me what my favorite position was.&lt;br /&gt;I replied "Moderate."&lt;br /&gt;I ordered food, in hopes of at least getting a free meal out of this ordeal, and I thought things were getting a bit better because he seemed interested at my vast knowledge of flying, something of which he considers hinself an expert on.&lt;br /&gt;Then it happened. I was happily enjoying my cheese &amp;amp; onion enchiladas and was telling him a story about my future puppy procurement when he interrupted me with "You've got some food on your cheek." Before I had time to react with my napkin, he licks his thumb (and I mean a full-on lick, tongue out of the mouth, if it was a cartoon I would have heard the SLURRRP) and WIPES THE MINISCULE AMOUNT OF SAUCE OFF OF MY CHEEK.&lt;br /&gt;I stopped mid-sentence and sort of stared at him, wiping his thumb spit off of my cheek with my clean napkin.&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, I'm a touchy person," he said meekly, pushing his food around with his fork.&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, I wasn't expecting your spit on my face on the second date."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___&lt;br /&gt;I needed that. It's good to be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1549679968336112127?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1549679968336112127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1549679968336112127' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1549679968336112127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1549679968336112127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/second-times-charm.html' title='Second time&apos;s the charm...'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5779414019597479552</id><published>2008-06-04T00:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:50:09.130-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notmiranda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting older'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sparks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='date'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='age'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='older men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being me'/><title type='text'>Limiting factors</title><content type='html'>Shouldn't there be a statute of limitations on our issues finally revealing themselves? I am the child of a divorce that left me essentially without a father. He split in the middle of the night when I was 5...didn't really visit...then died when I was 13. Yadda yadda yadda. I've been pretty up on most of the issues this has resulted in, but within the past year I have noticed yet another development. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I seem to have developed an interest in older men. I know this isn't all that unusual and that it's common for women to sometimes seek out their "father" in their dating life, but shouldn't this have manifested much earlier? To date, I have been more well known for my liaisons with younger men. However, within the past year, I have found myself flirting with men who have more silver hair on their head than not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The latest manifestation of this has been my grandmother's occupational therapist. I met him last time I was in Texas and was immediately attracted to his sarcasm and motorcycle. I'm currently back in Texas for a two-week stint and was veritable wreck at my grandmother's therapy session today. I put on makeup (me...the girl who only wears makeup when she's going "out") and found myself giggling at his jokes. I would vacillate between this and trying not to focus on him because I felt so transparent. The true horror of the situation hit home when I heard my mom giggling along beside me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Immediate thought: OMG. I am interested in the same guy my mom is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong. He's attractive...has tattoos...drives a Harley...is amazing with my grandmother...has amazing eyes. But (and this is a big 'but') he is also divorced and has a teenage son. He is definitely more in my mom's age ballpark than mine. Talk about a wake-up call.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I see myself changing? Probably not. I'm at a great age where both younger and older don't seem ridiculous. God, I love my early 30s. As long as they can keep up with me, then why not ;-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5779414019597479552?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5779414019597479552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5779414019597479552' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5779414019597479552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5779414019597479552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/limiting-factors_04.html' title='Limiting factors'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1470507512251705723</id><published>2008-06-02T22:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T22:51:46.182-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SATC'/><title type='text'>Everything I know I learned from SATC…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;This was going to be a post about my recent vacation, but then I realized that the with the movie of the series that gave this blog its claim to fame that maybe a post in honor of that would be better.   &lt;strong&gt;Please note that some of the below could be a spoiler to you if you have not yet seen the new movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So of the many episodes of the show and finally the movie I've learned many things that I would like to impart here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Never underestimate the power of a really good martini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A good pair of 4 inch heels will never let you down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Breaking up via post-it note is frowned upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you keep bumping into him at places you go with your friends don't fight the fever, date him already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't let a lazy ovary and one nut get the best of your reproductive rights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Comparing your love life to chemo therapy is a sure sign its time to get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Just because good things are happening to you doesn't mean you won't Poughkeepsie in your pants. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boys will be boys, girls will be girls, but friends who will help you pack up 18 years of your life are forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've been blogging with three wonderful women and no matter our ups and downs we've managed to come full circle, so in our lives, this blog and wherever else we may go, that won't ever change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1470507512251705723?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1470507512251705723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1470507512251705723' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1470507512251705723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1470507512251705723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/everything-i-know-i-learned-from-satc.html' title='Everything I know I learned from SATC…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6150413768943484660</id><published>2008-06-02T21:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T22:02:05.243-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trust'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cosmo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snooping'/><title type='text'>Snoop</title><content type='html'>Cosmo had an article about snooping on your boyfriend. While I'm all about a spy mission, this bothered me LIKE WHOA! I am hoping they wrote the article in jest, but I am sure some women will be tearing out the pages to use as a guide. They suggested such things as looking in his cell phone and checking his email account as well as googling his prescription meds to see what his deal is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have of course been an observant girl in my time and noticed things like, "Is there only 1 toothbrush?" and "Is there lipstick on that glass?" but I have never and will never snoop in a guy's email or go through his sock and underwear drawer. I think the second I do that, then it's free reign to look in mine and hell to the no do I not want that happening!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And whatever happened to trust? Sure, it will fuck you over sometimes, but I'd still rather not be a cynical human being. Bad move, Cosmo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6150413768943484660?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6150413768943484660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6150413768943484660' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6150413768943484660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6150413768943484660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/06/snoop.html' title='Snoop'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-9064841834879837021</id><published>2008-05-26T15:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:49:21.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Between a mistake and a hard place</title><content type='html'>I ran into a mistake on Friday evening. As I was wandering through the exhibits at Artomatic with a group of friends and the current NotDarling, I caught my mistake strolling through my peripheral vision. The pace of my breathing increased, and my hands got all jittery and hyper. This was not the reaction of an excited girl, but rather the adrenalin of being faced with the inevitable. Despite it's size, Washington D.C. really is a small town, and mistakes can only be avoided for so long. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mistake in question was a short, odd-looking fellow who fancied himself a mediocre photographer. He sought me out online via this blog (and I believe Flickr) and eventually took our relationship into weird text-sex territory. The burden is not entirely on my mistake. I readily went along for the exciting ride even though I knew he had a girlfriend, and even though I had begun dating someone else. He had a way with words, and I considered it harmless. Harmless turned into a few notes left in bookstores and the eventual discussion of when talk would end and action would replace it. After months of teasing, I decided to take my mistake up on his offer and meet him at his apartment for porn and sex. I have never before gone into a situation with only the basest of needs and no desire whatsoever to get to know or like the person I was meeting. Needless to say, this was not the makings of the best situation. To make a long story short, I did not fuck him. I think neither of us were what the other expected. We had each seen pictures, and I knew he was not what I would look for physically. However, the personality also did not match the person who had pursued me online either. The confident guy who talked of doing many, many things to me was really a shy giggler who would not shut up. He was overconfident in all the things he should not have been overconfident in. After about 30 minutes of listening to him, we both knew this was going nowhere. So, I left. Angry. The troops I had waiting in the wings swooped in for their extraction, and I learned a valuable lesson. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(1) This was not me. Not really. I felt guilt going in. I felt guilt while I was there. And, I felt guilt afterwards. (2) This was not the kind of guy I would ever associate with. It was just all a mistake. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All of my friends knew about the mistake, even NotDarling. Knowing I had told NotDarling about it, however, made Friday worse. There was no interaction between me and my mistake, but I knew NotDarling knew about it and was judging me. That, my friends, was hardest to take.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-9064841834879837021?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/9064841834879837021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=9064841834879837021' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/9064841834879837021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/9064841834879837021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/between-mistake-and-hard-place.html' title='Between a mistake and a hard place'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3479740017362589789</id><published>2008-05-19T14:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T14:26:39.054-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='details'/><title type='text'>Totally Natural</title><content type='html'>I just can't write the salacious details I want...I'm sorry. I just can't. I guess mostly because the anonymity of this site is gone and while it's not my face accompanying these posts, it is no secret for some who I am and who the subjects of my posts would be about. And while I do share things with friends about my life, those aren't the only people who may read here. I would rather not give the details to those people I don't even like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night I was hanging out with two guy friends and before we commenced our beer drinking, they were playing music (guitar and drums). I enjoy watching people play even if it is difficult to not give my 'professional' opinion and want to jump in on an instrument of my own. It can be so eye opening to hang out with just guys sometimes, though. The testosterone that builds is so funny. Luckily, I am totally able to "be one of the guys" (while still being a lady and desirable, of course). I love to see them practically bump chests when they make a good joke, but then a split second later hold the door for me. Or how they give me the better beer or pour one of the darker ones into a glass so it will taste better. And meanwhile they're talking smack on the "dumb blonde" who works at the bar. I like that they can be themselves around me. I had a lot of guy friends in college and, while I love my chick friends, too, it's been nice to get closer to some guys lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we'll never go shopping together. They just wouldn't understand!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3479740017362589789?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3479740017362589789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3479740017362589789' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3479740017362589789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3479740017362589789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/totally-natural.html' title='Totally Natural'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8390214499482924090</id><published>2008-05-14T20:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:51:06.200-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the Nots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex and the City movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cosmo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='premiere'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy hour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><title type='text'>Sex and the City - The Movie</title><content type='html'>You knew we'd mention it eventually! With the movie right around the corner, it gives us all a chance to relive the fun and drama we experienced with the series. I, personally, am looking for any chance to drool over Chris Noth. Despite the name and premise of this blog, we are not some weird fanatics. The series just provided such great eye candy (hello...the city...the fashion...the men) and a chance have someone else act out and analyze our issues. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, on to more important things...parties. What better way to enjoy the show than with a cosmo? After noticing the &lt;a href="http://www.originalalamo.com/Show.aspx?id=5326"&gt;Austin Alamo Drafthouse&lt;/a&gt; was showing the movie complete with the cosmo experience, I decided that we (the Not girls) needed to find the right DC experience. What did I find? Absolutely nothing. No bars, no alternative theaters...DC seems to care about nothing but the upcoming election. However, if you live just about anywhere else in the U.S., someone is looking out for you. Just check out the special SATC premiere parties happening across the country...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Party it up at &lt;a href="http://www.naplesnews.com/blogs/tabletalk/2008/may/08/blusushisatc/"&gt;Blu Sushi&lt;/a&gt; in Naples, Florida.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The &lt;a href="http://events.detnews.com/detroit-mi/events/show/82112303-sex-and-the-city-movie-premiere-party"&gt;Centaur Bar&lt;/a&gt; in Detroit, Michigan is even raffling off a pair of Manolos.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bid on a pair of tickets to the &lt;a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/Meet-Kristin-Davis-2-Sex-and-the-City-Premiere-Tickets_W0QQitemZ250224897058QQihZ015QQcategoryZ16071QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem"&gt;NYC premiere&lt;/a&gt;. The proceeds benefit Oxfam (great organization, btw).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In Dallas, even the big D has a &lt;a href="http://orders.tickettriangle.com/ResultsEvent.aspx?event=Sex+And+The+City+Premiere+Party"&gt;party&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://kansascity.craigslist.org/eve/678970511.html"&gt;Kansas City&lt;/a&gt; is celebrating Sex and the City passion party-style.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a feeling &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.popcrunch.com/sex-and-the-city-movie-premiere-may-27th-radio-city-music-hall-new-york/"&gt;the&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.popcrunch.com/sex-and-the-city-movie-premiere-may-27th-radio-city-music-hall-new-york/"&gt; place to be and be seen&lt;/a&gt; with be the NYC premiere party on the 27th. Radio City Music Hall and MoMA.  Holla.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Columbus, Ohio is &lt;a href="http://www.columbusalive.com/?sec=lookalive&amp;amp;story=alive/forms/sexandthecity_form.html"&gt;premiering &lt;/a&gt;the movie on the 27th and streaming the NYC premiere. Then head over the Bar of Modern Art on the 29t for a kickin' party.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what are we doing? Well, I do believe we'll be settling into a nearby bar with cosmos and long islands prior to heading to the local midnight premiere. If you want to join us, drop a comment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8390214499482924090?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8390214499482924090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8390214499482924090' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8390214499482924090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8390214499482924090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/sex-and-city-movie.html' title='Sex and the City - The Movie'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1094346898578759343</id><published>2008-05-13T23:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:51:32.345-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creativity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='links'/><title type='text'>Share your love</title><content type='html'>Do you have a love story to share? Send yours to &lt;a href="http://thekissingknees.blogspot.com/2008/01/love-stories.html"&gt;Camille Riley&lt;/a&gt; and participate in her latest project. &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know about you, but I love a good love story (but won't read your standard "romance" novel any longer). Also, want a bit of inspiration? Check out the amazing photography project called &lt;a href="http://www.theoneswelove.org/home.html"&gt;The Ones We Love&lt;/a&gt;. I'm trying to figure out what kind of portfolio I can put together, so they'll allow me to participate :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SCpYzmcrnxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uekO6HHnccA/s320/holding+hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200066363270078226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1094346898578759343?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1094346898578759343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1094346898578759343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1094346898578759343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1094346898578759343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/share-your-love.html' title='Share your love'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SCpYzmcrnxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/uekO6HHnccA/s72-c/holding+hands.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3824875490546161842</id><published>2008-05-08T14:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:51:59.161-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sweet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jacking off'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interesting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='males'/><title type='text'>Nice guy syndrome</title><content type='html'>I just got my knickers in such a twist at work that I had to take a break and rant about it. Excuse me while I get up on my soapbox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(clears throat)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am TIRED of nice guys and the nice guy excuse! The &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nice guy&lt;/span&gt; who won't make the first move seems to be all I'm surrounded by. I am even going to remove myself and the boys who enthrall me from the equation. Let me just talk about the boy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;friends  &lt;/span&gt;that I have and the women who are smitten with them. When will these men learn that being nice isn't an excuse for a lack of balls? Yes, we understand that you're afraid of rejection and lack confidence just like women, but has this become a pandemic? Are men putting their foot down and refusing to make the first move, preferring to remain single and celebate (with the exception of their hand)? You know what...I could even accept that. Lay down the law and say you're tired of bearing all of the burden of the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;chase. &lt;/span&gt;However, don't say that the reason you're single and can never find a girl is because you are too nice. Perhaps the reason you're single is because you need to grow a pair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3824875490546161842?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3824875490546161842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3824875490546161842' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3824875490546161842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3824875490546161842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/nice-guy-syndrome.html' title='Nice guy syndrome'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2284662776439716344</id><published>2008-05-07T00:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:52:17.318-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ho’s before bros?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;I used to think of myself as a diehard girlfriend.  Down for any type of adventure and always up for the new and exciting.  Especially, when it came to hanging out with my girls.  Lately, however, I've been feeling none to friendly and even less inclined to do the new and tingly things with anyone including my girls.  While the Nots have been out doing things with each other, I've been doing my thing over here, and trying to jumpstart my non-existent social calendar.   This did get me to thinking about friendships and girlfriends and boyfriends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where does your friend stand while you're getting into a relationship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There's no pause button on a friendship.  And often times you may want to establish yourself in the relationship with your person before introducing them around to friends and sometimes family.  Do you need to vett  the new entry into your life to make sure they're capable of handling their own?  And while I wish this was my problem its not, I don't have a significant other I'm trying to work into my regular life.  I just have a lot of questions about what to do when  I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;NS&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2284662776439716344?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2284662776439716344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2284662776439716344' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2284662776439716344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2284662776439716344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/hos-before-bros.html' title='Ho’s before bros?'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-2967244298071373157</id><published>2008-05-01T00:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:52:41.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The living dead</title><content type='html'>Nah, we're not dead. Since we last left you, life has gone on. The girls persevere, and the stories get dished about over caffeine. I, personally, think the stories have gotten a lot more interesting. I'm hoping I get drunk and bored one night and write them all out here. A self-appointed, drunken historian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to get myself back in the hang of blogging here again, so pardon the brief synopsis. Life has been hectic. Boys have been only on my periphery lately as my mind has been occupied by my grandmother being really sick and finishing up a thesis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose this will have to suffice for a new beginning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-2967244298071373157?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/2967244298071373157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=2967244298071373157' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2967244298071373157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/2967244298071373157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/05/living-dead.html' title='The living dead'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6688553914196597473</id><published>2008-03-29T07:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T07:22:50.629-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NotSkippy'/><title type='text'>Seven Minutes...</title><content type='html'>BloggerNote - This should have hit the blog last night at midnight, but for whatever reason, Microsoft Word 2007 saw fit not to post it.  Technology...even that's deciding not to cooperate for me today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In less than seven minutes, it will be NotSkippy’s wedding day.  &lt;br /&gt;I discovered yesterday that he and NotIttyBittyTitty were tying the knot this weekend.  At first I was shocked, then amused and now, after two glasses are very good wine and some time to mull it over, I’m contemplative.   I’ve told several people about it and have got the coterie of pity glances and justified anger, none of which I’m sure what to do with.   I’ve tried to reason out my feelings and I realized that no matter how I look at it, I’m equal parts sad and jealous.    So what will the morning light bring me?  I’m not sure, but I’ve had enough regrets in my life and I won’t add this to the short list of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6688553914196597473?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6688553914196597473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6688553914196597473' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6688553914196597473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6688553914196597473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/03/seven-minutes.html' title='Seven Minutes...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7932714246405240103</id><published>2008-03-29T00:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:52:59.181-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven minutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;In less than seven minutes, it will be NotSkippy's wedding day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I discovered yesterday that he and NotIttyBittyTitty were tying the knot this weekend.  At first I was shocked, then amused and now, after two glasses are very good wine and some time to mull it over, I'm contemplative.   I've told several people about it and have got the coterie of pity glances and justified anger, none of which I'm sure what to do with.   I've tried to reason out my feelings and I realized that no matter how I look at it, I'm equal parts sad and jealous.    So what will the morning light bring me?  I'm not sure, but I've had enough regrets in my life and I won't add this to the short list of them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7932714246405240103?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7932714246405240103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7932714246405240103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7932714246405240103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7932714246405240103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/03/seven-minutes_29.html' title='Seven minutes'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6897316305966175873</id><published>2008-01-17T23:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T23:16:11.345-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back on the Bike…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;3…2…1…Happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, so I'm a few days late.  Better late than never, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*crickets chirping*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And with that I'll just continue with my regularly (or irregularly) scheduled post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think I gave up on dating last year.  No, let me be honest, it is the New Year after all (that's my story and I'm sticking to it), I gave up on interacting with anyone socially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No seriously, I gave up on it.  I stopped placing online ads on whatever site I found as a potential date.  I avoided my friends (and sometimes even my family).  I did the little cocoon thing, as much as I could, and even when I did 'go out' I had the vague feeling of being in a crowd and yet still felt alone, you know, the really after school special kind of depressed.  And I've already determined that this year will not be more of the same.  To that end, I went out with friends last Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I got back on the bike, so to speak.  And man was the ride hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I met up with the group at what seems to be &lt;em&gt;our&lt;/em&gt; Irish pub.  We had a table and I got there early enough to be horrified by the really bad Johnny Cash wannabe band.    I took NotASong with me for moral support (and someone to talk to incase my verbal skills in a group failed me), and we ordered a round.   By the time the Guinness had arrived and the first jokes about how much I love good head (on the Guinness you pervs), I was feeling more comfortable, but I felt like I could just as easily go home, and maybe stare at my computer screens some more; because really, nothing says fun like two widescreen views of computer perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;NotHirsute was there, along with NotBeast, NotMetal, NotDaisy and NotSuperboob (not to be confused with NotIttyBittyTitty) and after listening to the latest gossip, which I've apparently been out of the loop on I felt like I was catching back up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For me this year is about balance and about not letting any one thing have total control over my life.  And about getting some of that life.  So we'll see how this ride goes.  For right now it's not completely uphill, but it's turning out to be a steady climb.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6897316305966175873?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6897316305966175873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6897316305966175873' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6897316305966175873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6897316305966175873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2008/01/back-on-bike.html' title='Back on the Bike…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-9102087636814997719</id><published>2007-12-29T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T13:54:55.701-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything</title><content type='html'>It's not like I haven't been writing because of lack of material. Quite the opposite, really. Life has been pretty busy lately. I find myself living out of my car and other people's houses. I'm not complaining, though. Well, until I find myself with a night and nothing to do and then I don't know how to handle myself, haha. I think most people go through phases where they want to do a lot and be around people and then conversely go through a phase where they want a lot of alone time. Right now I want to be around everyone and do everything. So...that's what I've been doing-everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;NotCarrie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-9102087636814997719?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/9102087636814997719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=9102087636814997719' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/9102087636814997719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/9102087636814997719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/12/everything.html' title='Everything'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5656170107037243316</id><published>2007-12-18T23:24:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T23:24:30.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m not Dead…yet </title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, it's the holidays.  You've filled up on turkey and you're blazing your way through the mall, and while all of this is going on the ladies of No Sex are taking it easy and leaving you hanging…okay not really, but I'll speak for myself.  I've been dealing with a few health issues and they've made me less than inclined to post about anything, least of all my sex life that isn't so sexy right now.  So a few more weeks and I'm getting back in the saddle, so to speak.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But before that, I want to talk about death.  Pretty somber topic for a blog with pink as the main color.  It's just that recently, I've been seeing more and more things in pop culture that point to death and dying or more importantly, what to do before you die.  Places to see, things to do, meals to have; there seem to be endless lists upon lists and now there are even movies about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's wrong with living in the now?  Why do we need to think about being dead before we even contemplate what we could be doing while living?   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5656170107037243316?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5656170107037243316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5656170107037243316' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5656170107037243316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5656170107037243316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-not-deadyet.html' title='I’m not Dead…yet '/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-750420855464156243</id><published>2007-12-13T20:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T20:46:13.110-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='plans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knickers'/><title type='text'>All Knickered Up With No Where To Go</title><content type='html'>So when I got ready today I thought to myself, "Hey, you're going out tonight-wear the hott new knickers!" because that's how I roll-I save the cute ones for when someone might see them. And now it's almost 9pm and plans to go out got postponed so I'm sitting here at home, wrapping Christmas gifts wearing my cute, new knickers. (With clothes over them, of course. I am &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; sitting around in just my knickers. Um, no.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding about someone seeing them, though, but why waste the fun ones for sitting at home?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-750420855464156243?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/750420855464156243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=750420855464156243' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/750420855464156243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/750420855464156243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/12/all-knickered-up-with-no-where-to-go.html' title='All Knickered Up With No Where To Go'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3170906644083192728</id><published>2007-12-01T00:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T00:34:06.764-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;In 2008…I'm going to be a bad bad woman…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3170906644083192728?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3170906644083192728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3170906644083192728' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3170906644083192728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3170906644083192728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/12/well-behaved-women-seldom-make-history.html' title='Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-153577163409719335</id><published>2007-11-28T22:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T23:03:56.280-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='discussion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flossing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='get some'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='magazine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='orgasms'/><title type='text'>Discuss Amongst Yourselves</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"Having regular orgasms is as important to your health as flossing your teeth."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Devra Lee Davis, PhD., Center for Environmental Oncology at the Universty of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute. Taken from &lt;a href="http://www.self.com/"&gt;Self Magazine&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-153577163409719335?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/153577163409719335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=153577163409719335' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/153577163409719335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/153577163409719335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/11/discuss-amongst-yourselves.html' title='Discuss Amongst Yourselves'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6244428235779260155</id><published>2007-11-19T08:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:53:32.257-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notmiranda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='making out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='makeout'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oral sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blow job'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kissing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='instant gratification'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='males'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being me'/><title type='text'>Back at the old den of sin...</title><content type='html'>Friday night, post-sushi making adventure with NotCarrie, found me needing male attention. Packing up a couple of supplies, I headed to NotCharlotte’s where I knew game night, wine and a certain someone would provide me with the distraction I needed for a few hours. I was not disappointed. I’ll skip the part about actually having fun playing games and drinking wine. Let’s face it…we’re all here for what happened next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 3 am, I looked up and realized that everyone else was gone save NotCharlotte and NotHarry and myself and NotBeast. We were all a little tipsy, and as the evening had progressed, NotBeast and I had been making minor suggestive comments back and forth. I’m not sure if I was purposefully testing the waters, but when we were all outside chatting I leaned back, saying I was cold and he was so warm. I think after he slipped his arm around my waist I knew things were going to get interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we settled onto the couch and NotCharlotte and NotHarry settled on the floor, someone hit the lights. I felt like a kid in high school trying to fool around and not get caught by my parents. Eventually they moved to the back part of the basement to go to sleep, and I felt a bit more *ahem* free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I’m not penning a romance novel here, I will spare you most of the details, but I have to tell you about my nipple. I just can’t not. Something like this has never happened before. NotBeast is a guy’s guy, and I like aggressive men. The next morning I woke up, and my left nipple was really sore. Really, really sore. As I was showering I noticed skin was missing and was reminded of this all throughout the day as I would get shots of pain when moving wrong. Less than 24 hours later and my nipple had actually scabbed. Scabbed! I like aggressive, but this has never happened before. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m intrigued…horrified…and am trying to figure out how he’ll have to repay me ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6244428235779260155?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6244428235779260155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6244428235779260155' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6244428235779260155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6244428235779260155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/11/back-at-old-den-of-sin.html' title='Back at the old den of sin...'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8430001401289084523</id><published>2007-11-13T13:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T15:32:33.529-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep face'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleeping'/><title type='text'>Sleep Face</title><content type='html'>I can't breathe. No, really. If I ever get kidnapped and they put duct tape over my mouth, I am going to pass out and/or die. As a result, I sometimes snore, too. I like to think it's endearing, but to a light sleeper, it might not be. In addition to that, I do not have one of those pleasant 'sleep faces' as I call them. Some people, when they sleep, look just like they do when awake. They look peaceful, and calm, and not weird at all. I, on the other hand, feel like I look like...well, let's not get descriptive. Usually when I sleep in the midst of another person, I sleep very lightly so as not to fall into this unattractive* state I have. Sometimes, though, a girl is tired (and/or drunk) and light sleeping is just not an option. I know my Sleep Face is not going to be a deal breaker or anything, but at some point, I'm going to fall asleep first, and on my back or something, and then all bets will be off. Like I said, I hope it's endearing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZZZZZZZZZZZ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. And just to clarify, I don't look like Satan after a long night or anything. Heavens no! I just &lt;I&gt;look&lt;/I&gt; like I'm sleeping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.P.S. I can only speak for myself, but I'm probably not going to talk through differences on this blog. If they were blog related, then maybe, but there's really no point on so many levels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Relatively unattractive. I could never really be so;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8430001401289084523?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8430001401289084523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8430001401289084523' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8430001401289084523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8430001401289084523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/11/sleep-face.html' title='Sleep Face'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-5251029747554471593</id><published>2007-11-11T02:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T19:53:59.385-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Invasion of the bodysnatchers</title><content type='html'>I disappeared. Not because I was afraid.  It wasn't even intentional.  I was angry...intensely angry at this blog being used to forward any personal agendas and the incomplete truths being told by multiple parties on here.  I was all set to blow the whole thing wide open with the "complete" truth, but then I got lazy.  I didn't know how to phrase what I wanted to say.  And then a busy work schedule became my excuse.  Eventually this all eroded into the fact that I lost all desire to remember...to make things worse.  I knew that nothing I could write would help what was going on in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth of the matter is (as I'm sure you've garnered by now) that all is not well in Denmark.  Some of the girls aren't getting along and haven't really been for a long, long time.  I talk to everyone and am left with burden of navigating all sides.  This isn't easy or ideal; most of the time it's simply painful.  Conversations can turn into emotional russian roulette.  I even began campaigning everyone individually to end this blog because I felt the spirit in which it was created was long gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost and here we are.  Tepid, but I promised I would give it another go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-5251029747554471593?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/5251029747554471593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=5251029747554471593' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5251029747554471593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/5251029747554471593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/11/invasion-of-bodysnatchers.html' title='Invasion of the bodysnatchers'/><author><name>NotMiranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04452421410110231291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HmI0nccTW6w/SNwtbFU11QI/AAAAAAAAAAc/NTLlBqO6V_Y/s1600-R/374438375_02c71e6ab2_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3537506390833849242</id><published>2007-11-01T22:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T22:27:02.158-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='day of the dead'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='costumes'/><title type='text'>Day Of The Dead</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I didn't do much to celebrate Day of the Dead, but in my defense I was left pretty tired from my Halloween celebrations last night. I'm proud of myself for resisting the trend of dressing like a skanky ho and spent my day as a gypsy and my evening as death. I mean, I was still hott as both, but in a more every day way as opposed to a short skirt and clevage way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how were your Halloweens? Any good stories?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3537506390833849242?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3537506390833849242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3537506390833849242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3537506390833849242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3537506390833849242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/11/day-of-dead.html' title='Day Of The Dead'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1274752068730139431</id><published>2007-10-24T00:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T00:08:52.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What if Marriage isn’t the Goal? </title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;While &lt;a href='mailto:pinkisneat@gmail.com'&gt;NotCharlotte&lt;/a&gt; has moved on, I'm still here and this is still the No Sex and the City blog.  So I bid her farewell in this blogosphere, but I know I'll see her in others.  There my hat is tipped…now on to the post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;At 28 years old I've come to the conclusion that while marriage is something I want it's not &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;the&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; goal.  So while driving to Maryland to be scared to death, NotASong, NotADot and I confronted a fear of a different sort.   I have many things I want to achieve in this go round of life, but the longer I'm single the more I realize that marriage isn't one of them.  I want to be in a committed relationship, sure, but I don't consider getting married as the end of the road for me, or even the beginning.   So, what if the goal is something else besides the societal norm? What if you're breaking away from tradition and saying that is not what I'm reaching for, but if I get there then fine, if not then, that's fine too.  Anyone else for shattering the goal of marriage with me?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My goal – to own my very own specialized bookstore/tea and coffee shop.  That's it no frills, no thrills, just coffee, tea or me with books.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1274752068730139431?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1274752068730139431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1274752068730139431' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1274752068730139431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1274752068730139431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-if-marriage-isnt-goal.html' title='What if Marriage isn’t the Goal? '/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3599592493734323503</id><published>2007-10-21T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T19:47:48.060-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notcharlotte'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lilly Allen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='secrets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gossip'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='saying goodbye'/><title type='text'>Take What You Take</title><content type='html'>Gossip. It's something we all crave. For some, it's a way to feel wanted, like you're part of an inside group. For others, it's a power move. They use information to hurt, gain access, to shock the people it's about. It doesn't help that in our society, we have shows like Gossip Girl and Access Hollywood to fuel our fire. Come Wednesday night, I'm sitting in front of the television, waiting to see what B will to do S, and vice versa. I then start thanking my lucky stars that I don't have friends or situations that vindictive and hurtful. Then I read past posts and comments on this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning, the four of us set out to anonymously entertain whoever wanted to read with the trials and tribulations of being single in the District. We sat around the table at the diner across the street from the bookstore we all worked and figured out which name would go with what person. We chuckled at the thought of channeling our favorite SATC characters as people ate up our stories like we were eating our cheese fries. "I wonder who will read it?" We pondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As things progressed, our friendships waxed and waned. The closeknit community of bookstore compatriots started to fail and cliques grew. The grapevine started to climb and along with it, our stories became more intriguing and detailed. We learned the hard way who to trust and who we should keep a safe distance from. Characters started to develop and we became fully committed to creating for our readers something worth a perusal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then people from work started reading this blog. I don't think any of us knew right away, but it became unsettling. I started to become paranoid that people knew things about me and I didn't know who exactly it was. This dissapated after I quit working at the bookstore, after I stopped hanging out with most people from there. I forgot about it and continued living my life and as it happened, giving you guys my honest opinion on my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently though, it came back. Anonymous comments stung through our posts and I began to narrow down the people I knew had been reading.&lt;br /&gt;It was our fault, once you put something on the internet, it's free domain. Anyone can read. Hell, past me wouldn't give a shit who read, it meant more hits, more people reading something I took the time to write. I mean come on, we &lt;em&gt;wanted&lt;/em&gt; people to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I started to think about what I was writing lately. About NotHarry. Considering he was married to one of the people that hangs out with the people I know read this blog, I started to feel like it was an invasion of my privacy. I know, my fault again. I used this blog as therapy. I wrote what I thought would make things good. When I wrote things out it was confirmation that I was happy. To think that people read this and discuss and write comments on something that I hold close to my heart makes me very frustrated and somewhat angry. I'm angry that people have the nerve to take apart something that makes me so happy and I'm frustrated that I don't feel I can defend myself because, well, this is supposed to be anonymous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with these recent developments and with a lot of thinking, I've decided to stop writing as NotCharlotte. I'm giving up this blog. I just can't do it anymore. I've shared for almost four years every single date, every single fuck up, every single emotion that I've felt with regard to boys, men, and relationships in general. I just can't do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't speak for the other girls, it's up to them what they decide to do with this forum. I just know that I can't continue sharing my secrets when I know they're being read by people I wouldn't share with in real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to miss it though, I would look forward to comments from our regular readers. I got excited when a new person would read our blog and comment so favorably on what grew from four girls shooting the shit to a full blown commitment of our time and experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I invite you to continue writing your thoughts and opinions to me, I can be reached at &lt;a href="mailto:pinkisneat@gmail.com"&gt;pinkisneat@gmail.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3599592493734323503?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3599592493734323503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3599592493734323503' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3599592493734323503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3599592493734323503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/10/take-what-you-take.html' title='Take What You Take'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3744379213364011624</id><published>2007-10-17T19:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T19:48:53.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I think going west may be in my future…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anthony Bourdain described the Pacific Northwest in one word…"Obsession."  If there were ever one word to describe yours truly this would be it.   I think the love of my life is waiting for me there as well.  So, here's my send off NoVA.  In three more years (if I can wait that long), I'm going to be west coast bound.  And I'll be bringing it to you live from some Seattle coffee shop, or who knows, I might be opening my own dream store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3744379213364011624?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3744379213364011624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3744379213364011624' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3744379213364011624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3744379213364011624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-think-going-west-may-be-in-my-future.html' title='I think going west may be in my future…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8526182523341705576</id><published>2007-10-15T22:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T23:07:16.903-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hug'/><title type='text'>An "I Need A Hug" Day</title><content type='html'>It can be difficult when, after getting used to physical contact, you go a day without any. And I'm just talking hugs here. I could have used one today. My day just went on too long and began in a hurry that set me on edge for the rest of the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8526182523341705576?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8526182523341705576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8526182523341705576' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8526182523341705576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8526182523341705576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-need-hug-day.html' title='An &quot;I Need A Hug&quot; Day'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7323772916600746192</id><published>2007-10-06T23:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T23:48:45.221-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notharry'/><title type='text'>Spooning is for Lovers</title><content type='html'>I really don't understand how I can sleep by myself, when I've got the most perfect spoon partner just a few miles away.&lt;br /&gt;It's so hard to rip myself from the comforts of NotHarry's bed that I find myself making excuses as to why I can go home just a little bit later. The only reason I left tonight is because I'm doing an event in Arlington tomorrow that requires me to be up at 8am and work from 10am until midnight.&lt;br /&gt;Sleep is required for me to not kill someone tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way things are going though, I don't think i'll have to sleep by myself for much longer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7323772916600746192?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7323772916600746192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7323772916600746192' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7323772916600746192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7323772916600746192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/10/spooning-is-for-lovers.html' title='Spooning is for Lovers'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6973313977906292799</id><published>2007-09-27T11:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T12:17:20.730-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flirting'/><title type='text'>Flirting</title><content type='html'>As I was sitting in the world's worst traffic yesterday (seriously, traffic at 730pm? Why.) I had the following thought:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am going to have a boyfriend*, does that mean I have to stop flirting?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And honestly, I was a little distraught about the thought. Flirting is almost second nature to me. It's fun. I enjoy it. I do it...a lot. I don't think I could ever just not do it. The thing is, though, that I don't follow up my flirting with propositions or anything so I think I should be okay continuing the habit. Maybe to a lesser degree, of course. I don't want to be thatgirl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, I know the whole, "if you're happy with your guy/girl then you won't be looking elsewhere," but that's not the problem. Like I said, it's not like I am out there propositioning people, I just like to be charming. I almost can't help it;) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Do NOT jump the gun, please. I said "IF".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6973313977906292799?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6973313977906292799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6973313977906292799' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6973313977906292799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6973313977906292799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/flirting.html' title='Flirting'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6930492227785273102</id><published>2007-09-25T21:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T21:41:08.037-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Distinguished Gentlewoman…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Is there such a thing as the Distinguished Gentlewoman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;While talking with NotASong we pondered this question.  Men as they get older get 'distinguished,' women on the other hand just get old or if they're so inclined they get Botox.   But men age and like fine wine they get better with age.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just to put things in perspective here.  I'm only 28, but I don't like the idea of when I get old, then that's it.  I don't like not having society even giving me the option of being a distinguished gentlewoman.  While I'm sure some love the idea of aging gracefully and easing their way into the golden years…I've always been more of a live young, die hard leave a good smelling corpse, just without the dying part.  I   love to party hard (when I can tear myself away from my two computers, that is), and I love the idea of getting older.  But I want to have that same sense of classiness that men seem to acquire when they cross over the 50 year mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Did women somehow miss out on this?  I mean currently, amongst the magazines, books and just about all kinds of media there seems to be a focus on being younger, appearing younger, and stopping the aging process all together.  There are even entire magazines devoted strictly to the latest in plastic surgery.  The newest creams, potions and brews, can take away your wrinkles, make your smile brighter and offer you the appearance of a younger you.  What's wrong with a wrinkle or two or having your hair finally go grey?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm fed up with being told that I need to look young for as long as I can because when I finally look my age no one else will want me.  Dammit, I want my wrinkles and my years to show; proof positive that I'm old enough to know what I'm doing and know that I'm doing it right.  Distinguished Gentlewoman…bah!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6930492227785273102?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6930492227785273102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6930492227785273102' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6930492227785273102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6930492227785273102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/distinguished-gentlewoman.html' title='The Distinguished Gentlewoman…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3051361173960384417</id><published>2007-09-24T20:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T20:38:44.868-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notmiranda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='salsa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notphotographer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='communication'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notharry'/><title type='text'>You Turn Me On, I'm A Radio</title><content type='html'>The past few weeks have been a blur.  I recently got a huge promotion at work and it seems that along with the summer, my free time has blown away like the last whisps of humid air that burdened the DC area.  I'm happy for both to be gone, to be quite honest.&lt;br /&gt;I've been spending most of my time with NotHarry, with a few visits here and there with NotMiranda, NotPhotographer, and myriad other favorites. &lt;br /&gt;Things are going well.  It's been so long since I've had a guy in my life that I want to be with all the time.  My parents like him, all of my friends like him, which is awesome.  I think it's so important for my friends to like and get along with whoever I end up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, like any blossoming couple, we have our problems.  One of my pet peeves with him is that he doesn't commit to things until the last minute.  This doesn't drive me crazy all the time, but if it's for something that I consider important, I think I have a right to be a bit perturbed.  He's done it twice and both times he ended up going camping instead.&lt;br /&gt;I have chalked it up to the fact that he just doesn't want to tell me no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So over the weekend we were discussing things and he notified me that Halo 3 was coming out on Tuesday (at midnight to be exact) and that he probably wouldn't spend much time with me over the week, unless I came over and played Wii in the other room.  I said that was cool, I had plans formulating anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Cut to this afternoon.  He invited me over to watch Heroes and I declined, blaming high gas prices and payday not being until Tuesday (to pay for said high gas prices).&lt;br /&gt;He said "okay, cool.  we can do something tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh really? what about your silly game?" I asked. "I'm going out to dinner with some friends and was going to invite you, but you told me you'd be busy."&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sure I'll want to take a break.  Does the offer still stand?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This amuses me, simply because it made me realize that he truly doesn't mean to be non-committal.  This just means he's a typical guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he's going to dinner with my friends and I tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little does he know it's dinner and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;salsa dancing lessons...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3051361173960384417?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3051361173960384417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3051361173960384417' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3051361173960384417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3051361173960384417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/you-turn-me-on-im-radio.html' title='You Turn Me On, I&apos;m A Radio'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-7363780790978904072</id><published>2007-09-17T21:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T21:53:23.512-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Burn the Floor…</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love a good dance movie. So when NotMiranda and I got together a two weeks ago this is what we did. Now, I'm the first to say that the remake of "Shall We Dance" isn't high art, but the dance scene between Richard Gere and the former JLo is a thing of beauty. And when I see something come together as well as those two did for that Tango I know that this is the dance for me. And given my current dateless status it gives me one more thing to compare men and women in relationships. But above all else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was hot, this was probably the hottest thing I've ever seen...now, how to get some for myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in case you're wondering what music inspired this post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="80"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://media.imeem.com/m/2MYX6y8WJ_/aus=false/"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://media.imeem.com/m/2MYX6y8WJ_/aus=false/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="300" height="80" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-7363780790978904072?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/7363780790978904072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=7363780790978904072' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7363780790978904072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/7363780790978904072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/burn-floor.html' title='Burn the Floor…'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8667572775529617330</id><published>2007-09-13T12:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T13:12:44.500-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bubble world'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='daydream'/><title type='text'>Bubble World</title><content type='html'>I am taking a class where my teacher often tells us to enter her "Bubble World", where things go how she needs them to and what we're learning can be easily applied. It's easy for me to go to Bubble World since I am pretty sure it is next door to Daydream World, where I spend much of my time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bubble World is where things go just how they should, no one is tired, no one is in a bad mood, and things go according to plan. Since I know Bubble World would get boring if a constant thing, I would instead like to have a button to push where, when things get kind of crappy, I can leave reality and be in Bubble World. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scenario 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend and I get in a fight where unkind words are said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*BUBBLE WORLD BUTTON PUSHED*&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;I&gt;Boyfriend shows up holding boombox above head playing a song he knows will mean something. (and no, not "In Your Eyes".)&lt;/I&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scenario 2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go out while on vacation and meet the guy of my dreams, but realize I am leaving the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*BUBBLE WORLD BUTTON PUSHED*&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;I&gt;Amazing guy tells me he just got transfered to DC and needs someone to show him the city.&lt;/I&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scenario 3: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am having wonderful evening with guy and realize I have to get up early the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*BUBBLE WORLD BUTTON PUSHED*&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time stops. Also, there are stars. And it's chilly. Bubble World is awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8667572775529617330?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8667572775529617330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8667572775529617330' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8667572775529617330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8667572775529617330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/bubble-world.html' title='Bubble World'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6611050557285271800</id><published>2007-09-09T00:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T01:02:10.994-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I heard it through the grapevine...</title><content type='html'>I found out last week that NotSkippy had just proposed two weeks previous to NotIttyBittyTitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not exactly sure how or what I feel about that...so for now we'll go with indescribable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6611050557285271800?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6611050557285271800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6611050557285271800' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6611050557285271800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6611050557285271800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-heard-it-through-grapevine.html' title='I heard it through the grapevine...'/><author><name>NotSamantha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04730438588342222080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_x5jyjrNPmUw/TMBJCl8HsbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Zj_r020V8vg/S220/notSAM_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-6778993468185017145</id><published>2007-09-02T00:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T00:39:25.536-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='classy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='late'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weekend'/><title type='text'>When The Sun Rises</title><content type='html'>And what was maybe the best response to "Please stay" at 6am:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;I&gt;"But I'm a classy lady and I have to be home before the sun rises."&lt;/I&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, while smiling demurely...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-6778993468185017145?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/6778993468185017145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=6778993468185017145' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6778993468185017145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/6778993468185017145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/09/when-sun-rises.html' title='When The Sun Rises'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8930550467836998675</id><published>2007-08-30T00:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T00:58:32.161-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='astrology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad timing'/><title type='text'>Stars Are Blind</title><content type='html'>Sometimes my "&lt;a href="http://www.astrology.com"&gt;Daily Romantic Horoscope For Singles&lt;/a&gt;" email can really piss me off. Astrology is for fun, right? I just like to read them and be completely girly and get excited about the possibilities. Tonight, though, not only did it come at the most inopportune time, but it's message sucked:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're a real free spirit now, full of out-there ideas and electric energy. You're likely loving life and your independent status, if the stars have their say -- but, of course, this makes you ever more alluring, too. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it does explain why I had a creepy stalker at work tonight and more than one guy gave me a double take, but is it telling me what I really want to hear? No, it sure isn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know what your first question will be: What does she really want to hear?? Well, to give you a hint...I really would be okay with cancelling my subscription to the Daily Romantic Horoscope for &lt;strong&gt;Singles&lt;/strong&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8930550467836998675?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8930550467836998675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8930550467836998675' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8930550467836998675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8930550467836998675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/08/stars-are-blind.html' title='Stars Are Blind'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-3414594927053220790</id><published>2007-08-24T12:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T12:42:40.336-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meeting the parents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notharry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationship'/><title type='text'>Feel It All</title><content type='html'>I'm still trying to get over the fact that NotHarry has liked me for three years.  I don't ever remember having a fondness for someone so long... well except for Matt Damon.  Recently, we've been inseperable.  This week has been really trying for me both mentally and physically, and he has been my rock.&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of the weekend at the vet with my ailing dog and soon NotHarry would stop asking if I wanted him to be there and just take off work early and show up at my house 30 minutes before the appointment.&lt;br /&gt;He was there when the vet told us the bad news and he was also there to talk to my mom on the phone and tell her the bad news because I was too choked up.&lt;br /&gt;He was there when my family made the decision to put my dog to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;He was there to keep my spirits up and kept me busy for the remainder of the week when I was too upset to go to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so weird that the second I stop looking for someone, it happens.  He comes out of the woodwork and all of a sudden, I'm content and pleased and everything's running so smoothly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents like him too, which is a HUGE thing.  Usually, my dad just makes nicknames up for all of my guy friends and makes fun of them mercilessly.  Instead, at dinner they talk about Germany and animals and history and dad tells me that we need to "fatten him up" and that "he seems to really fit in with you."  My mom already wants him to meet our family in Wisconsin. It's so surreal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-3414594927053220790?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/3414594927053220790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=3414594927053220790' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3414594927053220790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/3414594927053220790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/08/feel-it-all.html' title='Feel It All'/><author><name>NotCharlotte</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16815465212639634657</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_o8xE9EMY_eQ/TLN8kSXmzvI/AAAAAAAAAA0/rckE7s6WsuU/S220/notCHAR_colorfinal.JPG'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-8650899827176513144</id><published>2007-08-23T11:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T11:34:24.874-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='makeout'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><title type='text'>A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words</title><content type='html'>I randomly saw a picture last night of this guy I used to be completely enamored with and even made out with on many, many occasions. Le me tell you, he is looking goooood! So good in fact, that I initiated some contact and would absolutely meet up with him even though it has been years now since we've hung out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-8650899827176513144?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/8650899827176513144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=8650899827176513144' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8650899827176513144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/8650899827176513144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/08/picture-speaks-thousand-words.html' title='A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11160461.post-1101549226234330423</id><published>2007-08-21T20:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T20:47:49.938-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='el sexo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='notgraceful'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guys'/><title type='text'>Are You Dating?</title><content type='html'>I have had no fewer than three people ask me in the past few days if I am dating NotGraceful. What, a guy and girl can't just be friends these days? I guess not since our amount of time spent together has increased and we've even been seen out together on the town. So scandalous! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing is, if we &lt;em&gt;were&lt;/em&gt; dating, would I answer in the affirmative to the inquisitors? Is it any of their business? Say we were dating. It would be really new right now, right? I don't think I would want everyone all up in our business. I don't want to start the gossip trains a goin'. (And believe me, they are out there. Just waiting for news.) Yeah, I'd be excited and happy, but renting out a billboard to declare the news is so not something I would do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's the other thing. I loathe putting labels on things like this. I vomited every single time in high school when two people would be described as "talking." What does that even mean? It is ridiculous. And so what is the next step, dating? But at what point do two people become boyfriend/girlfriend? After how many dates are two people exclusive? It all just becomes increasingly confusing and obnoxious, yet it's annoyingly necessary. At a certain point, and especially if el sexo is involved, I want to know where we stand, but I seriously dread the "What are we?" conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11160461-1101549226234330423?l=justanotherman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/feeds/1101549226234330423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11160461&amp;postID=1101549226234330423' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1101549226234330423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11160461/posts/default/1101549226234330423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justanotherman.blogspot.com/2007/08/are-you-dating.html' title='Are You Dating?'/><author><name>NotCarrie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08141505246848580782</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hotgH3KfPkE/TK0al7-nIFI/AAAAAAAAAA8/7b4_WuootaI/S220/madmen_fullbody.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry></feed>
