<?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-2722751180606006593</id><updated>2011-09-15T20:53:22.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diary of an Regular Gal</title><subtitle type='html'>The story of just a regular girl and her everyday thoughts, ramblings, and defeats.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cindy C</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6qhXTV4-iKY/S6L98HTDsOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EaBnShI2k3Q/S220/Avatar.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2722751180606006593.post-681970071102358695</id><published>2011-05-17T17:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T18:00:15.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I wonder about people...</title><content type='html'>I can't say I've ever been one to hold a grudge.  Heck I forgave my boyfriend after even cheating on me.  I've had bosses who tried to pin things on me to get me fired, coworkers who have pulled stunts who got me in some serious trouble, and people who have bad mouthed me to the point where it honestly hurt.  Today if any of those people needed help, I'd still stand up and help them out if I could.  Why?  I don't know. Maybe I'm a bigger person then most, maybe I'm TOO forgiving.. Who knows.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say this because of Facebook. I have been on the internet since I was 12 years old.  Way back when EVERYONE used AOL 3.1 (Remember having to wait to connect to the server using 56K modems????).  Facebook has become a place to connect with old friends, old enemies, family that you may or may not want to find, and coworkers as well.  It can be an amazing place.  I use it to keep in touch with a lot of my online friends across the country that if I didn't have them on Facebook, I may never hear from them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I don't understand is calling out people on Facebook because you have an issue with them.  Calling someone a "Stupid C***" and a "Raging Whore" on Facebook is not only point less "OH I called you a name online!!!  Go me!" but what's actually happens to a person to bring this type of behavior out of a person?  I can understand setting a record straight on Facebook with your friends like "I didn't have sexual relations with that woman!"  But I don't see the point to actually trash talk another person on such a public place or even on your private wall.  How can you be so disrespectful to yourself and to that person, no matter what they did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like this thing with Osama being killed.  Don't get me wrong, I can say I'm happy be is gone from this earth but people celebrating in the streets, posting statuses about his death in a demising way.  Even our military men and women had enough respect for the guy to give him a OK funeral that would be ok with his religion.  The man who they have been hunting for the past 10 years and they still treated him with some respect, and thats far more respect then we give to each other online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are thoughts that go through my head as the days go pass.  As the sayings say "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."  and "Treat others the way you want to be treated".  Maybe if more people lived these rules life would be just a tad simpler for the rest of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2722751180606006593-681970071102358695?l=regulargal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/681970071102358695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/681970071102358695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/05/sometimes-i-wonder-about-people.html' title='Sometimes I wonder about people...'/><author><name>Cindy C</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6qhXTV4-iKY/S6L98HTDsOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EaBnShI2k3Q/S220/Avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2722751180606006593.post-2162231170564834815</id><published>2011-04-28T20:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T23:46:38.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Depression is a B****</title><content type='html'>It's been a bit since I last posted.  If you don't see a post for a while, it's a good thing.  It means that I've been handling my depression and life well and haven't needed to vent.  Thank you to the person who committed.  It's good to know there are others out there reading things.  I never thought someone would read this blog, in fact I have never even told anyone about this blog, so to have someone read this and post is amazing to me.  Thanks! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried really hard to kick people from my life that have been causing drama and other such hardships in my life.  I recently started playing an MMORPG again (not WOW for those of you who know what that is) and I've met up with some cool people though it.  Tonight though, there was/is a couple talking about how wonderful their marriage is and how they keep things spicy in their sex life and other such things.  I really want to cry.  They are talking about how they have sex once a day even with kids, how he goes out of his way to surprise her with random acts of kindness and help, and other things I dream of.  Here I am in a relationship where Sex, well whats that?  That 3 mins ever 2 to 4 months where my boyfriends kisses me and then crawls out of bed and goes back to ignoring me?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend brought me something for Easter... a flipping $40 flower...  Yeah FORTY DOLLARS for a freaking flower!  This comming from the man who doesn't pay for any bills, doesn't do jack for me in any way shape or form, spends flipping FORTY DOLLARS ON A FLOWER!  Good lord!  Thats a week of food or the water bill!  I would love to tell him to take it back (I kind of did, but he took it as a joke) but I know it would upset him.  WHY must I be such a kind person?  Why must I not want to hurt people???  I spend so much time trying to please others then pleasing myself that I get depressed like I am today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did start dog classes again which has been a relief for me.  Just an hour a week to get away and do something for me that I like to do.  I miss my weekends off and being at dog shows.  I miss it dearly.  I can't wait to get back to it.  Maybe when I get a puppy I'll be able to get back to my normal life.  Maybe when I find a full time job where I don't have to work 2 jobs and have no days off...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rally hate my life.  Why can't I just get a flipping break and have a door open.  I really wonder some days what I did in a past life to be put through what I'm going through.  I treat others the way I want to be treated and all I get is hell...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the song goes "But tomorrow's another day and I'm thirsty anyways.  So bring on the rain..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2722751180606006593-2162231170564834815?l=regulargal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/2162231170564834815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/2162231170564834815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/04/depression-is-b.html' title='Depression is a B****'/><author><name>Cindy C</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6qhXTV4-iKY/S6L98HTDsOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EaBnShI2k3Q/S220/Avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2722751180606006593.post-8468864839450027435</id><published>2011-02-22T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T19:49:30.187-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Blew Up</title><content type='html'>I blew up tonight.  I really shouldn't have, but I couldn't take it.  I mean I'm TIRED of feeling used.  This week I spent $120 on food, getting him more then myself.  Cookies which I'll never eat, food that contains shrimp that I have, beer to make him happy, and then I spent $15 on Cigs because I know that he can't afford them this week.  Today he forgot his pop at home, so what does he do? Calls me and begs me to bring him a soda and dinner.  Fuck that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost it tonight.  I was looking for a new Car online and realized I don't think I can afford one, even though I NEED one.  I don't know how much more I can take of all of this.  I'm losing my mind.  Is it so much to ask to be equal?  I can't afford this.  I'm living outside of my means.  Hell, he NEVER got me a Christmas gift, I brought my Christmas gift from him, he NEVER paid me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know everyone says "your a nice girl, you can do better" but I'm convinced that there aren't good guys out there that I could be with.  Not that I mind being alone, at least I won't have to bother asking them if I can go out on a  weekend or why I'm spending $60 on dog training classes.   Even why I'm buying something for the dog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of all of this bullshit.  Why can't my life just go right for once???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2722751180606006593-8468864839450027435?l=regulargal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/8468864839450027435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/8468864839450027435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-blew-up.html' title='I Blew Up'/><author><name>Cindy C</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6qhXTV4-iKY/S6L98HTDsOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EaBnShI2k3Q/S220/Avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2722751180606006593.post-4328566790857249942</id><published>2011-02-09T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T20:24:49.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just STOP Bothering the Dog!</title><content type='html'>I live in a 525 sqft one bedroom house.  It really is TINY.  Living here with me is my boyfriend of 9 years and my 65lb American Pit Bull Terrier (who is the love of my life sad but true).  It's been a COLD winter here and this tiny house is heated by a wall furnace located in the living room.  It's a mad dash between all of us in the house to get to that heater when it kicks on to just get that bone chilling cold out of our bodies for just a few moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dog N. LOVES the heat.  He'll lay in front of that heater, or really any source of heat until he starts panting, and then stays put.  My Boyfriend (known as BF from now on) is this skinny guy of 130lbs who is 5'11" tall (yeah, no clue why he's lost so much weight over the past few months) who gets cold if you walk past him and theres a wind constantly fights my dog for the heat and this annoys the heck out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BF will yell at N. to move, which causes N. to run to me in the kitchen.  N. then starts bugging me to tell me that the BF told him to move (Picture a kid running up to their mother and tattle tailing on their sibling and you get a good picture of what I deal with).  I tell N. to go lay down which then sets the BF off because N. MUST go past the heater to get into the living room, and as soon as N. feels the heat he stops and tries to lay down which is NOT want the BF wants at all.  So for the 7mins the heater is on, it's a constant battle of the BF vs N.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How hard is it to just share the heat?  I mean really, come on.  The dog is laying on the floor, minding his own business.  You can step over the dog, he will not move.  He's far enough away from the heater where you can stand in front of the heater and not be bothered by the dog.  Just leave the F&amp;*#&amp;*g dog ALONE!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it seems petty, but this has been going on EVERY DAY since OCTOBER!  I mean really?  REALLY?!?!  You can't just leave the dog alone?!?!?  Then you FIGHT me over telling you to PLEASE stop making the dog move every time you walk next to the heater?  Is it that hard to PICK UP YOUR FEET AND STEP OVER THE DOG?!?!?!!!  Stop being so lazy and just do it.  I swear my BF only does this stuff because he doesn't like the dog, which I would just like to point out that HE is the one who wanted to get a dog!  I wanted a cat.  I'm not glad we got a dog, because it changed my life and I ended up finding something I love to do, but He is the reason why we got a dog in the first place.  Suck it up and deal with it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll hear a LOT about my BF in the future.  This is only the beginning...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2722751180606006593-4328566790857249942?l=regulargal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/feeds/4328566790857249942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-stop-bothering-dog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/4328566790857249942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/4328566790857249942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/02/just-stop-bothering-dog.html' title='Just STOP Bothering the Dog!'/><author><name>Cindy C</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6qhXTV4-iKY/S6L98HTDsOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EaBnShI2k3Q/S220/Avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2722751180606006593.post-6972340269464389098</id><published>2011-02-09T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T19:53:29.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And so it begins</title><content type='html'>First of all, I'll tell everyone right off the bat, I'm not that great of a writer.  It's very hard for me to get my feelings out on paper...erm... how would you put that?  Out on the hard drive?  Monitor maybe?  All well, that's not important.  You know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just a regular gal working a regular job, and living a regular life.  I'm not special, I'm no smarter then the next person, I'm no prettier then your average woman, heck I really have nothing special about me at all.  I'm just who I am plain and simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do suffer from depression which what working American adult doesn't anymore?  All you have to do is look at your paycheck and that depression just sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.  Turn on the TV, and the media is right there pressing issues down your throat and attempting to scare you into defeat.  Yeah but something is messed up in my head causing most days to be "woe is me" days according to the doctors, but sometimes I really wonder if they aren't over reacting and I'm just normal.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What pushed me to start this "diary" was an argument with my boyfriend of 9 years.  I don't have any friends.  I've always been a loner in life, very anti-social, so I needed a place to just write what's going on in my head.  It's doubtful that anyone will ever take the time to read this diary, but maybe one day someone will.  Maybe they are feeling alone like myself and this blog just will give them a little boost that they need to get through life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah now that I'm rambling, I guess I should post this.  Anonymous posting will me enabled because sometimes, you need to speak out but not be found and that's why I'm writing this out.  While I need to say what needs to be said, I don't need the few people in my life finding out what goes on in my head.  It's scary enough just me knowing what goes on in there.  I don't need people I know in there as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2722751180606006593-6972340269464389098?l=regulargal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/feeds/6972340269464389098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/02/and-so-it-begins.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/6972340269464389098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2722751180606006593/posts/default/6972340269464389098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://regulargal.blogspot.com/2011/02/and-so-it-begins.html' title='And so it begins'/><author><name>Cindy C</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6qhXTV4-iKY/S6L98HTDsOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EaBnShI2k3Q/S220/Avatar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
