<?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-7488736425093564191</id><updated>2011-04-21T10:41:24.604-07:00</updated><category term='home improvement'/><category term='Fear'/><title type='text'>What has been said cannot be unsaid</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-7146186970261312786</id><published>2011-04-02T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T21:00:51.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How autocorrect can make the start of a discussion not go as planned</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;This started off innocent enough, but one autocorrect incident later, it got real.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ccZKIlrHkeI/TZfwwrQ4lDI/AAAAAAAAABE/6rYLR2GwkT4/s1600/Untitled2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ccZKIlrHkeI/TZfwwrQ4lDI/AAAAAAAAABE/6rYLR2GwkT4/s1600/Untitled2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-7146186970261312786?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/7146186970261312786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-autocorrect-can-make-start-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/7146186970261312786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/7146186970261312786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-autocorrect-can-make-start-of.html' title='How autocorrect can make the start of a discussion not go as planned'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ccZKIlrHkeI/TZfwwrQ4lDI/AAAAAAAAABE/6rYLR2GwkT4/s72-c/Untitled2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-4954546123771822176</id><published>2011-03-30T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T22:34:31.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mortality Conversation</title><content type='html'>April and Ally were talking about their friendship and the depths to which it goes. They've decided that they are&amp;nbsp;each other's&amp;nbsp;split personality, and that if they ever got to the point that they wanted to kill each other it would be considered suicide. Apparently, during the conversation, they came to some terms that each other have to follow should one of them pass away first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ally says that if she dies first, then April&amp;nbsp;has to carry around the urn with her ashes everywhere she goes. She gets permanent shotgun in the car, and her urn has to be buckled in. The only places that April doesn't have to take her are the bathroom, and the bedroom(if it's during happy time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April said that if Ally dies first, she's going to take her body and put wires and bendable poles all throughout her body. This way, she can turn Ally's corpse into a&amp;nbsp;life-size&amp;nbsp;Gumby doll and pose her in different poses; making her a coat rack one day, a foot stool the next, etc etc. The other thing that this would let April do is motorboat Ally on a daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, maybe it's just me, but this is a little strange. Funny and hilarious, but strange nonetheless. Mind you, there were some details that I can only put in my head under threat of bodily harm, but this still gives you a strong idea of the conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-4954546123771822176?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/4954546123771822176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/mortality-conversation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/4954546123771822176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/4954546123771822176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/mortality-conversation.html' title='The Mortality Conversation'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-1485845587143607139</id><published>2011-03-17T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T21:57:12.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A phone and a boat</title><content type='html'>Talking with Ally, and we were on the topic of driving and towing trailers. I proceeded to tell her a story of when I was a kid. My family had a boat while I was growing up. We were on our way to the lake when I was around 11 and I was in the back seat of our Suburban. I looked out of the back window and said to my dad, "Daddy? where's the boat going?" This was the first time that I heard my dad curse as he quickly yelled "SHIT!!!" The boat had made an executive decision. It wasn't going to the lake that day. It came free from the hitch and decided it wanted a new family. It found what it wanted as it crashed into and through a garage door of a house along the road we were on. As it turns out, we (my mom, brother and I) got to go to the movies while my dad dealt with that. A little while later, my dad admitted that he forgot to latch the hitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this story, all of a sudden Ally said really loudly, "Ahhhh I just dropped my phone...and it almost hit my face!" I wasn't expecting the last part, and I laughed pretty hard. She was a little mad at me, until I asked if she was&amp;nbsp;OK. Then all was well. Until she remembered that I laughed at her before finding out if she was&amp;nbsp;OK. I guess I can't win for losing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-1485845587143607139?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/1485845587143607139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/phone-and-boat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/1485845587143607139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/1485845587143607139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/phone-and-boat.html' title='A phone and a boat'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-7743156514863675873</id><published>2011-03-13T00:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T00:08:26.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Biting</title><content type='html'>Ally was on the phone with me the other day, and out of nowhere, she screams "OWWW!!" Upon further inquiry, She tells me this gem: "The ATM just bit me!!" As you can imagine, I was taken aback. She proceeded to tell me that she was depositing cash into the ATM and it pulled her hand too close to the intake and when the door on it closed, it bit her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another time that she held on to something a little bit too long was at Sea World. You'll probably see this one coming, but she was feeding the dolphins. She was on her last fish and the dolphin went to take it. Apparently, Ally didn't realize that you needed to let go of said fish in order for the dolphin to eat it and not your hand. She had teeth marks and teeth bruises on her thumb for a few days. EDIT: Ally says she knew she had to let it go, the dolphin was just impatient.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-7743156514863675873?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/7743156514863675873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/biting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/7743156514863675873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/7743156514863675873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/biting.html' title='Biting'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-548597833758587919</id><published>2011-03-12T21:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T23:14:16.967-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the way the brain and the body work together is a magical thing</title><content type='html'>Tonight, Ally and I were talking on the phone when she suddenly started laughing. Let me preface this with the fact that she is in the middle of packing her apartment up since her lease is up in May and she will be moving. She has been going through and organizing all of her DVDs(she has filled up 5 binders so far) and getting any of the music that her roommate has that she wants. What made her laugh when we were on the phone was incredibly amusing. She's been ripping down CDs all day without any issues, but for whatever reason her brain decided to misfire. While doing this process, she'd been watching a bunch of her DVDs. When the current&amp;nbsp;DVD&amp;nbsp;was done and it was time to switch it out, she reached to eject the disc. Or at least she thought she did. Her hand, instead of tapping the eject button on the DVD player, reached for a cabinet door underneath it instead. Delirium is not something to be taken lightly, people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one of my more infamous moments, not actually involving Ally or April but it's fun to share because I can laugh about it now, I was doing something with my friend Sam. We were moving furniture around in the apartment and I tweaked my knee and landed on it funny. Keep in mind that I've had 3 ACL replacement surgeries in my life, so when this happened, my mind went a little bit into overdrive. I spoke. What I thought I said was, "Holy sh*t, that really hurt my damn knee. I hope I didn't mess it up again." What came out of my mouth was, "NORR." To this day, I'm not quite sure where the malfunction occurred, but whenever I have trouble saying something around Sam, he'll laugh and say "NORR" so that I won't ever forget. It's been 9 or 10 years since that incident, and it still isn't old.&lt;a href="javascript:void(0)"&gt;Publish Post&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-548597833758587919?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/548597833758587919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/way-brain-and-body-work-together-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/548597833758587919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/548597833758587919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/way-brain-and-body-work-together-is.html' title='the way the brain and the body work together is a magical thing'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-1650344572748268213</id><published>2011-03-09T23:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T23:30:08.175-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A new olympic sport has been born</title><content type='html'>April and her&amp;nbsp;fiancée were driving on post going to the px, and they burped at the same time. They looked at&amp;nbsp;each other, laughed, and April said "Ooh, tandem burping!!" Josh laughed and then said, "They need to make that into an&amp;nbsp;Olympic&amp;nbsp;sport."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine this? An&amp;nbsp;Olympic event center, packed to the brim...silence rules the air. In the center of the arena, the first two contestants walk out into the center of the ring. Male and female, in matching&amp;nbsp;flannel&amp;nbsp;shirts and hand in hand, stop while facing&amp;nbsp;each other. Silence reigns. The two highly tuned&amp;nbsp;athletes&amp;nbsp;take deep, coordinated breaths and proceed to sing the ABC's in the language of the belch. The crowd is in awe of this amazing talent. Then it hits them, like a ton of bricks. Is it chicken? No, wait, I smell curry. GARLIC!!! The scoring would consist of 70%&amp;nbsp;synchronization, 20% artistic talent, and 10% aroma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-1650344572748268213?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/1650344572748268213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-olympic-sport-has-been-born.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/1650344572748268213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/1650344572748268213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-olympic-sport-has-been-born.html' title='A new olympic sport has been born'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-2249752304221215837</id><published>2011-03-09T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T11:31:13.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ahh facebook...how i love/loathe thee</title><content type='html'>Had a fun interaction on facebook last night with Ally...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iX6JxZBkkBU/TXfTiVFUPTI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZXBlXNrGZPA/s1600/untitled.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" q6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iX6JxZBkkBU/TXfTiVFUPTI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZXBlXNrGZPA/s640/untitled.JPG" width="376" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4CT5gwad9l4/TXfUQjiQulI/AAAAAAAAAA8/K0Iw6CLJk-U/s1600/untitled2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="307" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4CT5gwad9l4/TXfUQjiQulI/AAAAAAAAAA8/K0Iw6CLJk-U/s320/untitled2.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Had to split it up, print screen/paint are a little limited. And since this is not being posted from my computer, I don't really have any say on what's installed or not installed. ﻿I just love how the conversations can morph into something wonderful(scary). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funniest/saddest thing about this&amp;nbsp;is that the whole time that this was going on, I was on the phone with Ally. Wow seems to be a bit of an understatement. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-2249752304221215837?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/2249752304221215837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/ahh-facebookhow-i-loveloathe-thee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/2249752304221215837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/2249752304221215837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/ahh-facebookhow-i-loveloathe-thee.html' title='ahh facebook...how i love/loathe thee'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iX6JxZBkkBU/TXfTiVFUPTI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ZXBlXNrGZPA/s72-c/untitled.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-6273283218456766499</id><published>2011-03-09T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-09T10:44:09.212-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This one goes to 11</title><content type='html'>So, for the entire time I've known April, she's always had a voice that carried well. Granted, when I first met her, she was a little shy. Once you got to know her however, you could pick her out of a crowd. She apparently has become less shy now and is just generally plugged into an amp. When asked if she had the ability to tone it down a bit, she replied "I only have two volumes, loud and louder." ahhh...visions of spinal tap are on the mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-6273283218456766499?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/6273283218456766499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/this-one-goes-to-11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/6273283218456766499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/6273283218456766499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/this-one-goes-to-11.html' title='This one goes to 11'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-8923604111608914780</id><published>2011-03-07T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T12:02:28.263-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fear'/><title type='text'>Spiders</title><content type='html'>This one is going to be a fun post for me. It has a couple parts. Ally was telling me about a story with her and&lt;br /&gt;April while they were driving somewhere. April was driving, and things were going smoothly. Until April turned to Ally and full on smacked her in the face. That's right, she slapped her out of nowhere. As I'm sure you could imagine, Ally got upset. April then proceeded to explain why this happened. She said she looked over and saw a spider on Ally's face. Did she really see a spider? Who knows? Later on, April then told Ally that after she ceremonially slapped her, she nearly hit the median as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another story about April and her utter hatred/fear of spiders. Ally and April were on their way inside of April's place and Ally was in front. April started screaming, put down everything that she had in her hands, and then proceeded to do an unintentional strip tease for the neighborhood. She ripped her shirt off, wearing only a bra underneath, and then proceeded to stomp on her shirt for several moments. When she was finished, and content with the damage that she had done, she looked at Ally and said, simply, "Spider." Once again, not completely sure there really was one there, but April sure was convinced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After hearing that story, of course, I laughed. Mind you, I hate spiders. They're creepy. Spiders are not technically insects, but actually skeletons made of congealed hate. &lt;a href="http://www.cracked.com/funny-1934-spiders/"&gt;This&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;is an article that I came across that pretty much defines my total feeling about spiders. I was telling Ally that I'm not afraid of them, but if I see them, I'll go into a murderous rage and "violently kill them until they die from it." Ally laughed hard at my statement, and I realized what I said. Not one to retract a statement, when she questioned my statement, I replied, simply "you heard me." That one's going to stick with me for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-8923604111608914780?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/8923604111608914780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/spiders.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/8923604111608914780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/8923604111608914780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/spiders.html' title='Spiders'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-1414635880570655889</id><published>2011-03-07T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T11:46:57.219-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bruising</title><content type='html'>When April and Ally were on their way back from a show at a casino, April reached over and put 3 fingers on Ally's leg. Ally looked at them and looked at April and said, "What are you doing?" April's response?&amp;nbsp;“Do you think I could give you a 3 finger bruise? It would be 4 but my pinky doesn’t reach.” They were talking about random bruises this is where the conversation went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-1414635880570655889?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/1414635880570655889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/bruising.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/1414635880570655889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/1414635880570655889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/bruising.html' title='Bruising'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-2028507134178258127</id><published>2011-03-07T11:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T12:26:36.778-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Topic of Belching</title><content type='html'>Ally was talking to April one day and she was complaining about a random encounter she had. What she was talking about that day was the fact that someone just randomly burped in her face while in line somewhere. No warning, no apology, just unmitigated guttural rage aimed straight at her face, to which April laughed a little. The conversation went on for a while, and at one point, April had the fortune of having a belch sneak up on her right as her sentence ended. Ally giggled at this, but what April said nearly made Ally fall over. April was saying that what happened to Ally was just rude, "but when I burp, it's punctuation."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-2028507134178258127?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/2028507134178258127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/topic-of-belching.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/2028507134178258127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/2028507134178258127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/topic-of-belching.html' title='The Topic of Belching'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-5583274685102532844</id><published>2011-03-06T22:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T22:14:47.178-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home improvement'/><title type='text'>April's "Hammer"</title><content type='html'>April asked Ally to help her get her house ready for her&amp;nbsp;fiancée coming back into town. This help involved the hanging of pictures, among other things. There are a few things that are needed when you are going to hang pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;First, you need a ladder. April, in a moment of pure genius, took one look at said ladder and proceeded to fold it up and put it way. Her response to Ally when she questioned why she was putting it away? "Meh, we can just use chairs." That would be a perfectly legitimate thing to do, if you didn't already have the ladder out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing that you would need when attempting this endeavor is a hammer. Here is her hammer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-57hx6bXfdy0/TXRyZdaF7dI/AAAAAAAAAAw/pk-Ti1UyzxU/s1600/imagejpeg_2_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-57hx6bXfdy0/TXRyZdaF7dI/AAAAAAAAAAw/pk-Ti1UyzxU/s320/imagejpeg_2_2.jpg" width="238" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;and here is her using said hammer:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-9P6f6UZpiWE/TXRykOtj1wI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-Y-YB4XtJa4/s1600/imagejpeg_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-9P6f6UZpiWE/TXRykOtj1wI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-Y-YB4XtJa4/s320/imagejpeg_2.jpg" width="238" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Would you look at that concentration?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;You can see in the picture that she isn't hanging incredibly big pictures. &amp;nbsp;Just a few smaller pictures here and there. What size nails or tacks would she choose to hang these pictures? How about 4" long nails. These pictures are going to be the most securely mounted pictures on the western seaboard.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Remember the part about the ladder?&amp;nbsp;Well, for reasons I can't mention(April might literally fly halfway across the country just to punch me), I can't post the picture of her climbing on top of a desk to hang more pictures. The reason she won't let me post the picture is, however, fair game. She saw the picture after Ally had already sent it to me, and said "Damnit Ally, why'd you send that? I've got hungry butt in that picture!" I nearly dropped the phone from laughter. I had no clue what she meant by that, but damn it was funny. Ally then proceeded to educate me in the ways of Hungry Butt. Hungry Butt usually only happens when you're wearing fabric that can be clingy: sweatpants, yoga pants, shorts, etc. Hungry Butt is when a large portion of the seat of these pants gets lodged in between the butt cheeks. Usually, I've heard of this called a wedgie. That night, I received a new name to call that situation. Thank you April. Somehow, they managed to get through that entire night without any serious injuries.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&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/7488736425093564191-5583274685102532844?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/5583274685102532844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/aprils-hammer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/5583274685102532844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/5583274685102532844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/aprils-hammer.html' title='April&apos;s &quot;Hammer&quot;'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-57hx6bXfdy0/TXRyZdaF7dI/AAAAAAAAAAw/pk-Ti1UyzxU/s72-c/imagejpeg_2_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7488736425093564191.post-5826367966237496383</id><published>2011-03-06T21:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T20:39:51.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome</title><content type='html'>So, my friend Ally and I were talking one night and she mentioned something to me. Sometimes, Ally and our friend April say something to one another, and whether it's in context or not, the words that come out are hilarious. Well, at least they are to us. Also, when I say "they say something", I usually mean April says something. She told me that they were in the process of recording some of these snippets for posterity's sake, to which I responded, "Why not start some kind of blog?" And here we are. If no one else sees this then we at least have a saved record for ourselves. So, I hope that anyone that comes across this enjoys it. If you don't enjoy it, I don't care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7488736425093564191-5826367966237496383?l=saidunsaid.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/feeds/5826367966237496383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/welcome.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/5826367966237496383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7488736425093564191/posts/default/5826367966237496383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saidunsaid.blogspot.com/2011/03/welcome.html' title='Welcome'/><author><name>The Things We Say</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14101099943299520539</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R3dXA0DX03M/TXRuErVrO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/HTaAU72ndZE/s220/imagejpeg_2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
