<?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-291274408179190560</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:32:18.359-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Extra-Ordinary</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-2003834048645803093</id><published>2009-02-11T12:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T12:54:12.874-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day.</title><content type='html'>It finally happened yesterday. I realized that me and Naved didn't have the same feelings for each other. He had told me last week "You are going to be my valentine Miss Tovar" over an IM chat. We were supposed to spend this Saturday together. I told him Sunday instead, since I worked Saturday and got out at 8 at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I was trying to say was that we were going to celebrate a late Valentine's day since we were going to go out the day after. Apparently we were going to go see a movie and he asked what else did I want to do since I had told him I wanted to spend the whole day with him. I said that to hold hands or whatever. He thought I was talking crazy. He said I made it seem like we were a couple because I had gotten mad over some remark he made about that. I said I wanted to be called his girlfriend one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I told him how I felt. That maybe after all his schooling, he could get a place in downtown Dallas. That way, I could always stop by and visit him. And we could always go out every weekend. Or we could just stay in and rent movies. I had the impression that he liked me like I liked him. He made it crystal clear after I asked him to be 100% honest with me and tell me how he felt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I like you but I don't want to be with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Valentine's Day everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like I'm going to be spending that day alone. At least I got rid of someone who would have ended up hurting me in the end. Just me and Coco I guess. Dog is, after all man's best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/291274408179190560-2003834048645803093?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/2003834048645803093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentines-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/2003834048645803093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/2003834048645803093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day.'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-6942661291774713830</id><published>2009-01-30T16:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T17:50:23.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Delayed.</title><content type='html'>I realize that it has been nearly 2 weeks since I last blogged about anything.  Has nothing interesting happened to her? Or was she simply overwhelmed with so many things that she hasn't had time to write? Both actually...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't had much go on these past couple of weeks but the stuff that I have had happen have left me in a daze. I recently stopped talking to my best friend of nearly 7 years, I purchased a laptop, and I realized what I might really want to do with my life now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am no longer on speaking terms with Jessica. She has called me about 3 times to talk and ends up talking about this boyfriend of hers. Her boyfriend happens to live in Scotland. Talk about a long distance relationship! Well, apparently she had already started school at Glasgow. Yes... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That&lt;/span&gt; Glasgow. Last time I spoke to her on the phone, she had told me that her boyfriend didn't believe her. How he had told her to just prove to him that she had been in the U.K. And if she had been in the U.K., why didn't she go see him? I suggested to her that if she wanted, I could sign into my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSN&lt;/span&gt; messenger and talk to him for her. Well, I did and it didn't boil over too well. I ended up finding out that she had lied to both me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; her boyfriend. About who her parents were. About her whole family. About what her hobbies are. Everything. It's like she was trying to reinvent herself for a high approval rating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let this be a lesson to everyone. Never try to change yourself. If you're going to change yourself, do it because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; want to and not because you think someone will like you better because of it. I know that change is inevitable but it also doesn't mean that it has to be forced either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I bought a laptop. In fact, this is my first blog ever on the new laptop. I like it very much. Originally, I had a game plan as far as buying a laptop went. I figured that since Circuit City was going out of business, that it would have saved me at least $100-200 on a new laptop. Well, when I got there, there were only 3 models left. The cheapest one was $600. I figured that since I was there, I might as well browse. The sign outside said "30 Percent off" but apparently there was fine print in front of that and it said "Up to". Well, no wonder Circuit City couldn't stay in business...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up buying my laptop at Best Buy. Smart move, yes I know. I also bought a wireless router for the house. Now my brother has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wifi&lt;/span&gt; on his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;PSP&lt;/span&gt; Slim. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt;, technology. It's marvelous. I also paid to have antivirus installed onto it the day I purchased it and the day after that, I bought a 2 year warranty for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As everyone should know, for all your computer accessory needs, you should go to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt;, not the store where you bought it at. I recently bought a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;web cam&lt;/span&gt; for the laptop 3 days ago on eBay. It has a built-in microphone and night vision. The price of this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;web cam&lt;/span&gt; plus shipping? $5.93. Isn't China glorious? The only reason that I bought a new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;web cam&lt;/span&gt; and didn't use the one I had for the PC was because I couldn't find the installation software for it. I also bought that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;web cam&lt;/span&gt; from a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Chinese&lt;/span&gt; shop on eBay for $9.95. It worked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;marvelously&lt;/span&gt; too. The next thing I'm thinking of buying is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;USB&lt;/span&gt; port laptop fan, to cool down the laptop. That's $5.43 (yes, the fan and shipping).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ramune&lt;/span&gt; want to do with her life? I am fascinated to the max with cake decorating. I know for a fact that I want to open up my own shop to make and sell custom cakes. Increased interest for this came in the form of a wonderful show called Ace of Cakes on the Food Network. I thought about it and the more I did, I kept coming up with the same thing. I wanted to be more in charge of the market of the cakes than the actual labor. How I came about this is that I was thinking of opening up a jewelry store. I was looking up jewelry to buy and jewelry display stands. I also looked at shopping bags and other accessories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I simply hate that aspect of myself. I don't want to be materialistic. I want to do something because it makes me happy, regardless of the amount of money I'll be making. Then I figured it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I can have both.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/291274408179190560-6942661291774713830?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/6942661291774713830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/delayed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/6942661291774713830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/6942661291774713830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/delayed.html' title='Delayed.'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-8449009703124682833</id><published>2009-01-17T15:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T16:40:12.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sick. And boys are drama.</title><content type='html'>Somehow, I got sick talking to Jose on the phone the other night. I was on my couch talking to him, when I decided to move to the floor. I have a couch in place of a bed by the way.  I had a bed, don't get me wrong. I just decided to get one of those couches that turns into a bed instead. Which is weird, seeing as how I don't use the bed. I just sleep on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seem to digress a lot. It just shows you that I am always thinking on top of thinking. Anyway, I moved to the floor to continue talking to Jose because my phone charger isn't long enough to reach my couch. I think it was because I didn't bundle up under the blankets while I was laying down on the floor talking away. I believe it was that, combined with the ceiling fan being on. I guess in all actuality, it was my fault...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm stuck with a stuffy nose, a somewhat sore throat and I feel "hot". Temperature-wise, not look-wise (although I won't negate the attractive one...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I state in my title that boys are drama... The reasoning behind that you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if you asked yourself, you must obviously be a boy. Now, don't go off and assume that I think all boys are problematic. Or that they're all bad. Or even that they're all after one thing. Truth be told, those boys make the good guys look bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zachary Todd McReynolds. I met this boy... let's see. I'm going to say 3 years ago. We met online and I was infatuated. I met him only once in the whole time we were "going out". Apparently when I was 15, I had no idea that long distance relationships don't work like you'd like them to. I lived in Dallas and he lived (still does) in Grapevine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he keeps telling me to stop talking to him every time we begin to talk again. With that being said, it isn't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; that contacts him, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HE&lt;/span&gt; contacts me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Diana. I miss you."&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Zach, I miss you too."&lt;br /&gt;(About 1 week of having talked to each other again, out of nowhere, I get:)&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, don't ever f*cking talk to me again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh... wha... ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cycle always repeats itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was half joking when I told James (a guy I met last year) that I was going to post a blog about my feelings towards him now that he has a girlfriend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I like him. Hope things go good for him. Smart move on his part overdosing on drugs and ending up on the hospital. Made me worry only to find out that he did that to himself. I guess you just have to use your insurance to reap the rewards of what your government is offering you. I wish I had health insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; do&lt;/span&gt; have is feelings. Don't tell me that you like me and then tell me all this nonsense of how "Oh, I would have gone out with you if I didn't have a girlfriend". No, if that were the case &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Russell Fratus&lt;/span&gt;, you would have chosen me over her in the first place...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mechanic I have a crush on at work just came by my desk and we had a little conversation before he left home.  Here's how our conversation went (I'm in bold):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(He's walking by my desk and I look up.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hey.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Going home?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, but first I have to get someone to unlock the service building... I left my keys in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh, that sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So... I'm sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you? Remember: chicken soup!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I know, I think I'm going to get some after work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or better yet, chicken broth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ha, no. I'm going to get chicken soup. I like little pieces of chicken in my broth. I'm going to go up to Chik-Fil-A and get some.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have it there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yeah, with little pieces of carrot. I don't like the celery in it. I always pick the celery out. It's so weird. The way it's shaped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I make an arch with my hand and call it celery)&lt;br /&gt;I see...&lt;br /&gt;(He was about to leave, but since I like talking to him, I pull out Chicky, a wind up plush chick)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Look, I got a little chicken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, chicky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I talk to him sometimes. He keeps me company at work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(He looks at me weird.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I talk to him sometimes when it's slow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh... Haha, talking to yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It's really interesting. He told me the theory of relativity the other night. And I look at him and say, "So you're made in China, huh?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha, China. (In a stereotypical asian voice:) Oh so sorree. I am chinese...&lt;br /&gt;(I laugh. His impressions are funny.)&lt;br /&gt;Are you sure he's not from Korea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yeah. He's from China. Where all the shoes are from. Koreans make donuts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also make shoes. They have a knock off of Nike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nike? Are you sure?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and Skechers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What? Skechers. Like they're selling like hot cakes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, apparently in Korea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Um, depends where you buy your hot cakes from.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(We start naming off shoe brands the Koreans make and concluded that they do not in fact make Diesels.)&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have to go get them to unlock the building. I see it now "Uh, can you unlock the door? I was stupid enough to leave my keys in there..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ha, that's terrible. Well, have a nice Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You too. (He waves bye and walks away.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Why do I have a crush on him? I like older men I suppose. He's 35. And he's half Japanese. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And&lt;/span&gt; he's smart. (Trifecta!) I think I make it obvious that I am infatuated with him whenever he's around me. I wonder if I blush...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another guy that I'm having trouble communicating with is Jarred. I thought that he stopped talking to me after we "met" because I had an overprotective father. We had planned to go out for coffee after work one day (this was back in December). As soon as I had stepped into his shiny, yellow mustang; Daddy Dearest calls and tells me not to go anywhere, that he was already on his way to pick me up. I can't believe it. I thought I was going to get coffee with this (gorgeous) boy. I had to sit in his car at the bazaar across from my work while my dad came for me. I tried to make conversation. I got responses. I just ran out of things to say or ask. Well, dad arrived and I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't hear from him until about a week and a half ago from today. I thought I had scared him off with my "you're not allowed to do anything fun or go anywhere at all" father. No. That didn't do it. Nothing I did, did it in all actuality. He has a tendency of disappearing he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great, I have a crush on Houdini.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/291274408179190560-8449009703124682833?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/8449009703124682833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-sick-and-boys-are-drama.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/8449009703124682833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/8449009703124682833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-sick-and-boys-are-drama.html' title='I&apos;m sick. And boys are drama.'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-5858239746756674372</id><published>2009-01-14T14:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T14:59:38.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>M Wash Dry</title><content type='html'>So today I was woken up early by my mom. It was around 11-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt;. I had set my alarm the night before to wake up at 9:01 but it didn't happen. I took a shower, got dressed and then went looking for my mom. My mom and the maid (yes, I have one) were sorting out clothes. Today was laundry day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursdays are usually our laundry days but lately my mom has been going whenever she thinks that the dirty clothes have piled up (and they were piled up today). We had been going to a laundromat we've never been to before for the past 2 months because the one that we usually go to was undergoing a "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;face lift&lt;/span&gt;" if you will. The name of the laundromat is now &lt;strong&gt;M Wash Dry&lt;/strong&gt;. It used to be called...and this is where I draw a blank. I never really paid attention to the name before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only reason that I remember the name of the laundromat &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt; is because of the way you do laundry there. My mom and I were sorting the change in the change jar, getting all the quarters out for laundry. We ended up not needing them because the machines don't accept quarters. No, they don't take paper bills either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to buy a credit card type thing. Sort of like those gift cards you buy from places and put money on them for use later. It was the same concept except that you have to buy the card first before you put money on it. The first time that you do it, you get a card out a machine and deposit $5. The card costs $2 and the remaining $3 are deposited into the card. From then on, you can deposit money on to the card. They also offer incentives on the amount you deposit. If you put $10 on it, you get 50 cents on the card and for every $20, you get $1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After you go through the process of buying the card and depositing the money onto it, you can now do your laundry. Just do everything you normally do, except now you have an alternative to payment. Put your clothes into the washing machine, close the door, select the temperature and how many cycles you want. Now, you slide the card into a slot similar to the credit card slots on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ATM&lt;/span&gt; machines. You have to make sure that the chip is facing towards a certain direction, such as the way you make sure the little strip on a credit card is facing a certain way whenever you swipe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am going to want to go do laundry more often just because the place is "high tech". The free dryers are an added plus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/291274408179190560-5858239746756674372?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/5858239746756674372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/m-wash-dry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/5858239746756674372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/5858239746756674372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/m-wash-dry.html' title='M Wash Dry'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-7740833586647337029</id><published>2009-01-13T14:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T16:36:44.822-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marlboro Menthol Lights</title><content type='html'>(Yum, yum. I just ate a mini cupcake. I bought a dozen mini cupcakes at Wal-Mart earlier before heading into work for my co-workers.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday and today are Hayley's days off of work. She came by yesterday around 7-ish to hang out with me until I got off of work at 8. On the way over here, she became lost because she was going by Tim's directions last time both of them came for me. She called me and I gave her directions and she made it here. Good thing to, she would've cut me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after work was over, we went to Starbucks. I got a machiatto and she got a frappachino. Then we decided we wanted something else, so Hayley got a big cube of rice krispies looking thing and I got a slice of lemon pound cake. We then head to the Cici's Pizza in Mesquite. Or at least I thought we were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hayley sounded like she knew where she was going. "Yeah, I just get on the highway and go to the Cici's in Mesquite." She ended up getting onto the highway towards downtown Dallas. She had to turn around and go the other way. Then she saw a sign. "Town East Boulevard, I know where we're going." Apparently she didn't, but I ended up knowing where we were at. We had ended up on Bruton Rd. and then we came across Lake June. We got to the Cici's... 10 minutes short of them closing. Surprisingly, I was satisfied with the little bit of pizza they had out as they all began cleaning up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had wanted to go into a store called Game Rush because lately, I have been fascinated with video games. Talk about lame. The store was apparently a division of Blockbuster. So you could feel it suck harder than a hoover vacuum. Beautiful (but not really).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then went to a nearby gas station so that Hayley could put gas in her sister's car and buy herself a pack of cigarettes. Before we had left my work place, she ate a turkey sandwich I brought to work. A couple of minutes later, she said she was going outside and then I asked her, "Weren't you quitting?" She replied that she was, but she was lessening it. Instead of 2 or 3, she was only going to smoke one. And so then I cracked a weird joke. I said, "But that's why I gave you the turkey sandwich... (I was giggling here) So you could quit cold turkey". For some reason, we thought it was really funny and we were laughing so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, she paid for her gas and bought a pack of Marlboro Menthols Light and she commented that they "weren't as good as Camel Menthols". She then said that the cashier didn't ID her (even though she is 18). She took it as a bad thing, that she looked older. I said, "It's all that damn smoking you do". Then she said "I was about to say that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove to Tim's work afterwards and we ordered a medium Dr.Pepper for me. I wanted a taco but that would've given away my identity. I'm the only weird one in the gruop who eats their tacos with just lettuce. If we would've said "a taco with just lettuce", Tim might have said "Diana?" We ended up paying (uh, boo Tim) and I ordered my taco at the window. Lately, I've been super hungry. I think it's the diet I started 2 weeks ago. If it's eaten at night, it doesn't have any calories... (Ha ha, I wish!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited about 15 minutes for Tim to get off of work. While we were waiting, Hayley tried getting me to take a puff of her cigarette. No ma'am, not me. I don't give into peer pressure. When Tim got off of work, we all went to the park by the federal correction center. I think that place is going to be our official hangout. On the way to the park on the highway, Hayley was burning rubber trying to "beat" Tim to the park. Well, it wasn't a hard thing to do for Tim the Turtle... Before reaching the bridge towards Seagoville, there was a s-l-o-w van in our way. Hayley decide to go around it. She went on the van's right side and we both noticed that the road was getting smaller. I thought that the van was going to crush us! Apparently, Hayley "switched lanes" on a lane you take onto the highway that becomes one lane. After that craziness, we waited about 5 minutes for Tim at the park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim parked beside us and both Tim and Hayley got out. I stayed my sans jacket self in the car. Tim didn't have a jacket either but he's always hot. I am too, but not that night. I watched them stand outside for about a minute when both of them came into Hayley's car. Tim commented that he had never been inside Hayley's car. Hayley said it wasn't her car, that it was her sister's car. We ended up calling Maddie, Hayley's sister, to get directions on opening the sun roof to the car. Maddie was on speakerphone and told Hayley that she could've said something if she was going to take her car. Hayley (being a smartass), said "Maddie, I took your car". Hayley also told Maddie that she put gas in it (irrevalant albiet thoughtful).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hayley turned the car on and we just drove around. She said we were driving around because she was tired of looking at the playground. Ok, makes sense. Tim interjected halfway into the drive that he left his car unlocked and parked at the playground. Hayley said she would turn around and go back once we reached the AG barn. It was my first time seeing the AG barn. We turned around and Hayley pointed to a road leading somewhere to our right and said that "down that road is the ghetto of Seagoville".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back to the park and Tim got off and jumped into his car and followed us. We were going to check out the ghetto. Ha ha. It was creepy. A winding road surrounded by old, leafless trees. The fact that it was dark outside didn't help. We saw it and then we went to the park. I decided to get Tim some cigarettes to shut him up and because I wanted some tacos from Jack-in-the-Box. Those tacos are ah-mazing! I can't believe I went without having one for so long! I first tried one 3 days ago...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got my tacos and then I skipped on the way into the convenience store. The Jack-in-the-Box we went to is inside of a convenience store for a gas station. I got a stawberry-kiwi Rain Gatorade and then when I was paying, I asked for a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights. I realized my error when I got into the car. I had repeated the cigarettes that Tim wanted &lt;em&gt;twice&lt;/em&gt; before going into the store. "Camel Menthol Lights"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim said it was ok and took them. Hayley dropped me off at home. My parents were sound asleep when I came inside after closing the garage. I checked up on my brothers and then went to my room. Junior was up with the TV on, playing his DS and Omar was asleep. I ate my tacos and talked to Jose while I ate. The conversation went on for about 3 hours. I went to sleep after drink an "Agua de Lourdes". It's mineral water that I grew up with due to my mom drinking it all the time. You know Mexicans and their weird cures. You drink this carbonated water and it soothes your stomach, similar to a Pepto Bismol or a milk of magnesia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/291274408179190560-7740833586647337029?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/7740833586647337029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/marlboro-menthol-lights.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/7740833586647337029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/7740833586647337029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/marlboro-menthol-lights.html' title='Marlboro Menthol Lights'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-5946703084413006456</id><published>2009-01-12T16:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T17:54:37.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last night, she said...</title><content type='html'>So last night, I had a ball. I got to go places I didn't plan for. My original plan was to go over my friend Mellie's (Melissa) house and play Guitar Hero III and order a cheese pizza. My mom was going to pick me up after my aunt's party was over. She was throwing a party for my little cousin Adrian. (Happy Late Birthday kiddo!) Well, I had changed my mind about three times for what I wanted to eat. It ping-ponged back and forth from pizza to the Chinese buffet nearby. Before my mom dropped me off, I said I had wanted to go eat Chinese. So, my mom suggested that we pick up Mellie and she would drop us off at the Chinese place. Then afterwards, we could walk to Wal-Mart and walk around for a while before my mom came to get us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little upset that I wasn't going to play Guitar Hero, but I agreed. At least I'd get to spend time with Mellie. So we were eating and I thought up of a brilliant plan. I would get Hayley to pick us up and drop us off at Mellie's house. But alas, Hayley didn't have a car. I then immediately thought of texting my friend Tim. He was at work and so that was a no-go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Mellie finished, I paid and then we were on our merry way to Wal-Mart. I decided to take a detour. We went to the nearby Dollar Tree before heading to Wal-Mart. Good move on my part. We bought these cool "vintage" movie posters. I got a Dracula one and Mellie got The Bride of Frankenstein. We each got one of King Kong. I also made her buy me a vegetable peeler. We lost our's a while back and peeling things with a knife takes too long. Mellie paid for these "necessities" of course. I paid for the Chinese food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, we went to Wal-Mart with the intention of walking around and waiting on my mom to call and come get us. Well, she called when we were in the candy aisle and asked me if I was ready. I told her no, just a little while longer. We got some sugar-free Jolly Ranchers, strawberry Creme Savers and Werther's Originals and a pack of cherry pull and peel Twizzlers and we made our way to the Electronics section. On the way to the Electronics section, we made a beeline to the shoes. While browsing flats, I got a text from Tim. He was out of work! Yay! He asked if I was still wanting for him to hang out with me and Mellie and play Guitar Hero. Uh, yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I had to do now is call my mom and get "permission". It's kind of inane to get permission from my parents when I am 18. I turn 19 in February. I hope that I won't have to ask for permission then. It's so embarassing. I called and asked my mom if my friend could pick me and Mellie up from Wal-Mart, we play Guitar Hero at Mellie's, then I get dropped off home. She told me not to ask her but to ask my dad. Damn! My dad doesn't like it whenever I hang out with a guy. The fact that Tim is &lt;em&gt;gay&lt;/em&gt; doesn't matter either, he's still a guy. So, I talked out a plan with Mellie and we had it worked out. Our friend "Tina" was going to pick us up. Clever, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call my dad and in the end, I changed the plan. I said my friend Hayley was pick us up and that she would take me home later. I said that Hayley needed to come by Wal-Mart to pick up her schedule anyway (she's a cashier there) and that we wanted to hang out. When I spoke to my mom before she said to call my dad, she gave me permission to be out but not to come home after midnight but then said to call my dad. Dad gave me permission but didn't specify time. I ended up coming home at 12:30-something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We paid for our stuff. Again, it was a medley, if you will, of stuff. Sugar-free candies, fly traps, Rock Band 2 (for PS2), and at the last minute, a 2-pack DVD set of Pineapple Express and Joe Dirt that our friend Mark talked me into. He had a convincing argument. The movie by itself was $20 but for the same price, I could get an additional movie. Ha, awesome. So I bought it. We went outside, and sat in the back because when Tim called me, he said we were sitting in the back because Hayley was coming along and she got shotgun or else she would cut whoever sat there. She means it too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked Hayley up and we had the intention of going to Mellie's house but instead, we went to the playground in the park near my house. The weird thing about the park is that it's right next to a federal correction institution. All four of us were hanging out for about 30-45 minutes. Tim and Hayley were smoking and Mellie and I were on the play set. I was pretending to be a ship captain, turning the two steering wheels simultaneously. I dubbed the "ship" the Battlestar Galactica. Hayley and Tim finished their cancer sticks and then hopped aboard. Hayley got off like 5 minutes later and I told her not to because she'll drown or worse, the Indonesians would get her... She thought it was a spaceship, then she hopped off and I told her she'd drown and we concluded it was a boat kind of ship. She walked back, and with blasphemy, she said "I'm like Jesus, I can walk on water." On the way back up, she tripped over a plastic rock. Oh my. The whole, Mellie kept interjecting nonsense. I honestly think that girl talks too much. (On another note, I was just informed that Tim thought she didn't talk enough.) We'll see if Mellie will become a part of our social circle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night ended with a trip to Scurry, then Kaufman, then we went our seperate ways. In Scurry, we didn't get far because there was no weed for Tim to pick up. In Kaufman, we visited Hayley's "Aunt" Veronica. Hayley's cousin Pam lives with Veronica and her own two kids there as well. We visited for about 45 minutes. Hayley snapped and told us we were leaving. We were on our way back when we, wait, when Tim and Hayley decided they wanted Jack-In-The-Box. I kind of didn't want to eat there, but I figured better than nothing. I ended up getting 2 tacos and somehow, we got 4 tacos no one wanted because Hayley ordered them for Mellie because Mellie couldn't make up her mind fast enough according to Hayley. In the end, they disappeared... Two Tim ate and two (that I recently found out) were thrown onto Mellie's yard when they dropped her off. (Note: I LOL'd hard when I heard that last part. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fun stuff, those kids.&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/291274408179190560-5946703084413006456?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/5946703084413006456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/last-night-she-said.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/5946703084413006456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/5946703084413006456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/last-night-she-said.html' title='Last night, she said...'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291274408179190560.post-7979412614620624015</id><published>2009-01-12T14:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T15:48:20.417-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post</title><content type='html'>Hello everyone. My name is Ramune. This is my first post at Blogger. I have a blog on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Myspace&lt;/span&gt; page, but no one really reads it. Nowadays, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Myspace&lt;/span&gt; is just one big popularity contest. And I have one somewhere over the rainbow on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Xanga&lt;/span&gt; but I think since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Myspace&lt;/span&gt; came around, no one gets on there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. I am currently at work right now and this blog must tell you something... I need something to do! I just sit here and wait for the phones to ring. I am a receptionist at a car dealership. Aside from answering phones, I mail out the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sales men's&lt;/span&gt; letters to their clients. It is kind of funny seeing as all they do is sign them. The day time receptionist is the one who types all their letters and prints them out and even then I think they are already saved onto the computer. Well, at least it is smart on the dealership's part. Time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;efficiency&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of cars, I realized on the way to work today that cars with gold logos on them are not my cup of tea. I am a silver person. Also on the way to work, my mother was on her phone. Great stuff, gossip. She was on the phone with my cousin Vincent who is in Mexico. There were three cousins that were living with us up until December when they moved out and my mother was telling Vincent that they were telling my father all these things that my and my brothers apparently did. I would like to know what they are. But hey, I'm not tripping balls. I have nothing to hide. They are just mad because they moved out because they had a verbal argument with my father. All three were currently in San Antonio working on an apartment complex when one of them thought of the bright idea to drink on the job. One of the supervisors saw him and gave him a warning to which Einstein shot him the finger. Of course he was told the he was no longer working on the project. The other two cousins, who happen to be his brothers, told the supervisor that if he goes, they go. So they left. My dad was yelling at them saying, "The supervisor told Robert to leave, not all three of you. Get back to work!" Well, apparently they got mad and moved out. Now they have to pay rent and buy their own groceries. I laugh a little every time I pass the room where they used to live in at our house. They have no idea how miserable they are going to be. Don't worry, they deserve it. :) And I only say that because two of them did something to me in the past...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom brought them up last week when she was making my dad breakfast. It was egg with something or other. Every now and again, my mom makes my dad homemade tortillas. She commented, "Look at this Hubby, I'm making you some nice tortillas. Those dumb boys have no idea how expense tortillas are. Every time they ate, they always heated up more than they were going to use. A box is about thirty dollars. And that's because I know a guy who gets them cheap..." Oh my. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Hee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;hee&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it sounds about right. That's the economy for you. And that's why I get paid fair a decent amount per hour to sit here. I'm not sure of anyone who wants to buy a car with the way the economy is. Let's interject some consumer opinion while we're on the topic of the economy... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;CVS's&lt;/span&gt; lip balm is longer lasting and tastes more of cherry than &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Chapstik's&lt;/span&gt; cherry &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;it's cheaper. A 3-pack of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;CVS's&lt;/span&gt; cherry Chap Block is $2.99. A 3-pack of cherry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ChapStick&lt;/span&gt; is $4.39. Let's see... a dollar a tube of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;chap stick&lt;/span&gt; as opposed to $1.60-something a tube. I think we know which one is the better (and more economic) choice. Funny thing is that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;CVS&lt;/span&gt; sells both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compare prices:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chap Block&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cvs.com/CVSApp/catalog/shop_sub_category.jsp?itemId=cat3468&amp;amp;navAction=jump&amp;amp;navCount=7&amp;amp;brandBy=brand&amp;amp;hideParam=null&amp;amp;filterBy=default&amp;amp;resetBean=false&amp;amp;onProdList=true&amp;amp;brandName=Blistex&amp;amp;brandId=600004"&gt;http://www.cvs.com/CVSApp/catalog/shop_sub_category.jsp?itemId=cat3468&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;navAction&lt;/span&gt;=jump&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;navCount&lt;/span&gt;=7&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;brandBy&lt;/span&gt;=brand&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;hideParam&lt;/span&gt;=null&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;filterBy&lt;/span&gt;=default&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;resetBean&lt;/span&gt;=false&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;onProdList&lt;/span&gt;=true&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;brandName&lt;/span&gt;=&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Blistex&lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;brandId&lt;/span&gt;=600004&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;ChapStick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cvs.com/CVSApp/search/shop_all_results.jsp?trail=SRCH:chapstick&amp;amp;addFacet=1016:Chap+Stick"&gt;http://www.cvs.com/CVSApp/search/shop_all_results.jsp?trail=SRCH:chapstick&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;addFacet&lt;/span&gt;=1016:Chap+Stick&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/291274408179190560-7979412614620624015?l=ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/feeds/7979412614620624015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/7979412614620624015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/291274408179190560/posts/default/7979412614620624015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramune-extra-ordinary.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-post.html' title='First Post'/><author><name>Ramune</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11229529671834934447</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_buNzMEtUwMk/SYOc1b7HMbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9d1jFMm9ab8/S220/Me+at+Work.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
