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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.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:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102</id><updated>2009-09-09T08:56:02.001-04:00</updated><title type="text">A Sassy Mommas Chatter</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default?start-index=11&amp;max-results=10" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>286</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>10</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/" /><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ASassyMommasChatter" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>ASassyMommasChatter</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-419853792275224720</id><published>2009-09-08T08:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T08:56:02.016-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Motherhood" /><title type="text">Aren't these talks supposed to happen when they are adults</title><content type="html">The girls and I were having a mother daughter bonding session. You know boy talk and stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So K asked you out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"MOOOOOM. I am not talking about this with you it is to embarresing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K has asked out D1 3 times so far, D1 thinks he's &lt;em&gt;Hot&lt;/em&gt; but always says no to him. &lt;em&gt;Whatever&lt;/em&gt; I don't get it. That started a whole bunch of lets tell mom everything we did that she didn't know about. I found out that my girls have never kissed any boys. &lt;em&gt;Thank God&lt;/em&gt;. I found out that D1 hugged K in her friend's (his sister's) room, her friend was there. I found out that my girl's often lie to me about where they are, when I say often I mean daily. I found out that they had boyfriend's long before they were allowed. I found out that D2 ate a paper she got an F on so she didn't have to tell me about it. She ate the paper. It didn't take her very long either from what she says. I found out that the older boy who D2 has a crush on kissed her on the cheek. He's a sweet boy and have known him for many years, I always liked him. During all of this truth telling I am pinky swearing and promising I won't get mad and ground them. Every new pinky swear brings on a new wave of terror that my daughter's did something really bad. But it turns out the worst they have done was go into the woods by where we live, the woods where they are not allowed to go, because troublemaker's cause trouble back there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am flying by the seat of my pants here, I promised I wouldn't yell at them, and I do want them to come and tell me thing's and feel they can trust me to be understanding. Shit. What the hell am I going to do. I mean let's face it in a teen's mind they know it all, a teen will do what they want whether you know about it or not. Yeah I never went to the library with my friend like I told my mom, i was at a boy's house. So I lay down a new rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't like you going into the woods, but I would rather know where you are just in case. I will not give you permission to go into the woods, but if you have to go then K has to be with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems kind of crazy for me to stipulate them going into the woods with a boy who obviously D1 likes and he obviously likes her. But it's the whole damsel in distress thing, and the boy who looks like he could take care of trouble if the girls ever find themselves in trouble. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the whopper comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Remember that kitty that we said the lady gave to D?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pinky swear you won't get mad, and ground us and that we'll be allowed outside again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well it wasn't from a lady, we got it from an abandoned home, we wanted to see inside it and we found the kitty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am not going to ground you but that's breaking the law and you can go to jail for that, so don't do it again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We thought because it was abandoned that it was ok."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is not so don't do it anymore alright."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But M's mom owns it, it was for his sister and she never moved in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Was M with you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then you broke the law"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the boy comes home and the girl's immediately say we told mommy all our secrets now it's time for you to tell her yours. He didn't have many, he did try chewing tobacco though. And a few other's that is to private to be shared. He hasn't had sex though thank god. I hope he doesn't till he's like 50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am hoping that me being level headed about things will help all the kids realize that they can come to me, and I won't freak out. It may be weird to talk to their mom about thing's but I hope they will trust that they can do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png"/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-419853792275224720?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/419853792275224720/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2555033954251220102&amp;postID=419853792275224720&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/419853792275224720" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/419853792275224720" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ASassyMommasChatter/~3/E0MoXw3E_Vc/arent-these-talks-supposed-to-happen.html" title="Aren't these talks supposed to happen when they are adults" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17640767554140342351" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/2009/09/arent-these-talks-supposed-to-happen.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-4880732103628844593</id><published>2009-08-21T09:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T09:07:00.118-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="General" /><title type="text">I Love Drunks</title><content type="html">Drunk people are so entertaining I could cancel my cable if I had more drunk people living around me. There was this guy walking down the road stumbling and weaving, luckily he wasn't driving. He waves at us and asks how we were, and informs us he is going to the bar. Sure go have a few more, like you really need it, but hey to each their own you know. If he won't feel better till he can't remember his own name and he's face first in a parking lot then I say let 'em go. Then he comes back. Turns out the husband has met him before, I haven't but his wife used to babysit the boy and D1 when they were babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the drunk guy spills out his life story, I seriously thought I was going to get to find out whether he wore boxers or briefs but he hit his head on my porch and that sidetracked him. Thank God cause he sure could talk a lot. He tells us he was going to go to the bar again, for 1 beer, yeah right. He was polite enough to ask if we wanted to walk with him 4 times. I told him that he really should be crawling and not walking because there was a law against drunk walking. That confused him for a few minutes. So he walks away, to go to the bar, for his 1 beer. And comes back again and asks me if I was planning on divorcing my husband being the way I am I said not today, we'll see about tomorrow though. Drunk guy told me to call him tomorrow if I decided, he even offered me his phone number. Uhm buddy you're married to. "Don't worry she'll never know." Yeah go drink a few more. So he finally leaves to go to the bar, for his 1 beer. The husband goes inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some Guy: JOE&lt;br /&gt;Me: Bar&lt;br /&gt;Some Guy: When&lt;br /&gt;Me: A minute ago&lt;br /&gt;Some Guy: He was at your house, he was supposed to wait till I got off the phone&lt;br /&gt;Me: Next time talk faster, I would have stopped him but I felt tackling some guy would be inappropriate, you better go pick him up before he falls into the road and becomes a speed bump&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So drunk guy got picked up on the side of the road and got a ride to the bar for his 1 beer. And now he can be a happier drunk guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png"/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-4880732103628844593?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/4880732103628844593/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2555033954251220102&amp;postID=4880732103628844593&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/4880732103628844593" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/4880732103628844593" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ASassyMommasChatter/~3/FSmLUCuYkJM/i-love-drunks.html" title="I Love Drunks" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17640767554140342351" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-love-drunks.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-1275980734931661405</id><published>2009-08-20T08:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T21:44:02.396-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Motherhood" /><title type="text">My Son is a Dealer</title><content type="html">I have to confess that my son is a dealer, it's been a tough summer to say the least, I have had people coming to my door at all hours of the night needing my son, they just can't wait till the next day, they need a hook up, they need their fix, they are desperate and only my son can help them out. The boy can't stop dealing, he's addicted to the money, or the stuff they trade so they can get their fix. I don't know if I want the boy to stop because you know at least he is learning to manage money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Knock Knock&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Twitches&lt;/em&gt; "Is the boy home, I need a hook up?" &lt;em&gt;Twitches&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy get's to the door "What do you need?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude, I got this bike frame that I'll trade you for those white mag rims"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my son is a bike dealer, it's the new thing amongst all the hoodlums around here. They trade, sell, buy and fix up the bikes. I have about 10 bike frames outside and everday I am tripping over bike rims and other bike parts. I even have a bike sitting in my dining room because that's a high dollar bike and it's too good to be outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told the boy at times I wish he was dealing drugs that way it doesn't take up so much room. And maybe he might make enough money to take care of me. But he's not into that though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-1275980734931661405?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/1275980734931661405/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2555033954251220102&amp;postID=1275980734931661405&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/1275980734931661405" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/1275980734931661405" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ASassyMommasChatter/~3/SaaclamCgbk/my-son-is-dealer.html" title="My Son is a Dealer" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17640767554140342351" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-son-is-dealer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-1470891888587398791</id><published>2009-08-19T08:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T08:45:27.861-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lice" /><title type="text" /><content type="html">Lice have taken over my house, no seriously they have. I sent the kids out with the husband and I'm thinking "Oh I'm so going to dye my hair." I was at the computer waiting for the minutes to tick by when I felt something itchy on my back, I ignored it and oh it became really itchy. When I reached back there I found something and when I looked at it I thought you're kidding me, right? I had to look up what lice look like online because it has been 6 years. So I'm holding the louse in one hand, typing with the other, in the meantime I thought it would be really cool to throw it in someones hair I didn't like, I'm such a kindergartener like that. Come to find out I'm definately holding a louse so I smoosh it, and the legs were still moving, gross, I even heard a pop when I smooshed it, instead I flushed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the husband "Are the kids scratching their heads?" he must have thought I have lost it because in his snarkiest tone he says "No why? Should they be?" Duh yes they should be I didn't get lice on my own, I never have my head anywhere but by the kids. "Get them home NOW."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids walk in all whining and shit, bitching at me because they were having fun and I tell them to line up for lice inspection. The kids friend takes off, I yell after her to shove her head under her moms nose because she probably has the creepy crawlies to. I took one peek at the kids heads and had a confirmed diagnosis. LICE. The husband takes off to the drugstore, but that takes too long for me. I remember I had a bnch of mayo that I got super cheap so I lined up the kids and started squirting the mayo in their head. Oh they cried that it smelled, and they swore they'd never eat mayo again. That's fine, more for me. "How long do we have to keep this junk on?" The internet says 2, but lets do 3, "OH but why?" Because you rubbed your head against a friends head who had the creepy crawlies now you got them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In walked the friend, "My mom wasn't home but my brother checked my head and he found some." If you want to stay you gotta lather up with the mayo so your bugs don't escape either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the kids are slathered and bagged so they keep the bugs to themselves and the husband comes back with the good stuff, and the news that the drugstore has had tons of people buying lice crap because some kid brought it back from camp, I guess everybody is rubbing heads around here. The chorus in the background was beautiful, it sounded as if it was rehearsed " We are kids not cats, cats rub heads not kids." Okay then you butt heads together then, The beautiful Mayo Sister Trio says "HUH?" the boy busts up laughing and says "Go back to kindergarten you morons" Hey we don't call names here dingleberry. "Nice example mom, fine then go back to kindergarten you uneducated girls." That's better, now get back to helping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 hours pass and I start combing through heads only to find out 3 hours was not long enough, I got a combful of live one's. I'm freaking out because I was not prepared for live ones and I take off running to the bathroom to rinse them off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 hours later and 4 heads one kid who was not mine, I gave up, I sent the friend home to her mom who had called and said she finally got home. I then gave the kids the lice comb and told them to yank through eachothers hair for a while. I heard yelling, and a few quit pulling my hairs out before you make me bald, and a couple mom tell her to pull just the nits out of my hair and not my hair out of my head. My only reply was if you want rid of the lice deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all went to bed bug free, the kids went to bed with half a head of nits. I did a lice treatment first thing in the morning, no bugs thank god but I just couldn't not do it, I was scared that some bugs built a bomb shelter and was escaping my comb. Of course I did more digging through hair another 6 hours worth. After that was done cranky teen asked me to put olive oil in her hair, just to make sure. Sure why not then after we are done we'll squeeze out the excess and make a salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of their stuffed friends are locked in a plastic bag right now, I won't let them out. Not until I am sure my children won't get reinfested with lice, that may be oh probably six months from now. Mom's keep your house lice free by telling your kids not to rub their heads against anyone else's head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-1470891888587398791?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/1470891888587398791/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2555033954251220102&amp;postID=1470891888587398791&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/1470891888587398791" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/1470891888587398791" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ASassyMommasChatter/~3/i-huyVAeYX0/lice-have-taken-over-my-house-no.html" title="" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17640767554140342351" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/2009/08/lice-have-taken-over-my-house-no.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-373266652007543034</id><published>2009-07-28T09:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T09:01:00.510-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Husbands" /><title type="text">My Husband is an idiot day 3</title><content type="html">My husband had to go to the grocery store among various items on the grocery list were 2 packs of peppers and 2 plain yogurts. Let me say normally when The Husband has to go to the store for 1 green pepper for me he always buys a 4 pack 2 green peppers and a red and yellow pepper, I normally freeze what I don't need and use it later. Well this time I needed 2 of those packs. I'm unloading the bags and find 2 green peppers, I looked at my husband and said "I wanted the pack of peppers"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Husband: They don't have a 2 pack of peppers&lt;br /&gt;Me: No I wanted the 4 pack you always buy when I want one green pepper&lt;br /&gt;The Husband; You should have told me&lt;br /&gt;Me: I did&lt;br /&gt;The Husband: No you just had 2 packs of peppers&lt;br /&gt;Me: Let me get this right I ask for a green pepper I get a pack, I ask for a pack and I get a pepper, does this seem wrong to you? BTW you got the wrong yogurt also it's vanilla I wanted plain.&lt;br /&gt;The Husband: Isn't it the same thing&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm afraid not, plain yogurt has p-l-a-i-n on it and not v-a-n-i-l-l-a. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png"/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-373266652007543034?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/373266652007543034/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2555033954251220102&amp;postID=373266652007543034&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/373266652007543034" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/373266652007543034" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ASassyMommasChatter/~3/DAwm1jTRHb4/my-husband-is-idiot-day-3.html" title="My Husband is an idiot day 3" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17640767554140342351" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-husband-is-idiot-day-3.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-227387816515478690</id><published>2009-07-22T21:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T21:19:00.579-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="July 4th" /><title type="text">Remember that #2</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ISPirMz870/SldqJduTX4I/AAAAAAAAAiw/0eTxuPcOBow/s1600-h/4th+(32).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ISPirMz870/SldqJduTX4I/AAAAAAAAAiw/0eTxuPcOBow/s320/4th+(32).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356866992610697090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't try this at home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png"/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-227387816515478690?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/feeds/5046258481652754173/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2555033954251220102&amp;postID=5046258481652754173&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/5046258481652754173" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2555033954251220102/posts/default/5046258481652754173" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ASassyMommasChatter/~3/i5YIXUNkey4/target-deals-719-725.html" title="Target Deals 7/19 - 7/25" /><author><name>Lady Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09646774130988132788</uri><email>imchristiedammit@yahoo.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="17640767554140342351" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://ladychristie.blogspot.com/2009/07/target-deals-719-725.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555033954251220102.post-1544574640901220937</id><published>2009-07-20T08:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T08:25:33.806-04:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="CVS Deals" /><title type="text">CVS 7/19 - 7/25</title><content type="html">&lt;strong&gt;Sun-Tues Only:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1” Vinyl Binder $3 &lt;br /&gt;Get $3 ECBs&lt;br /&gt;Final Price: FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caliber or CVS Filler Paper (150 sheets) $2 &lt;br /&gt;Get $2 ECBs&lt;br /&gt;Final Price: FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caliber or CVS Memo Book (50-80 sheets) $.99&lt;br /&gt;Get $.99 ECBs&lt;br /&gt;Final Price: FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caliber or CVS No. 2 Pencils (24 ct) $1.99&lt;br /&gt;Get $1.99 ECBs&lt;br /&gt;Final Price: FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Other Deals This week:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CVS Pantiliners (22 ct) $.89&lt;br /&gt;Get $.89 ECBs&lt;br /&gt;Final Price: FREE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v429/imchristiedammit/scriptina/lady.png"/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2555033954251220102-1544574640901220937?l=ladychristie.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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