<?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-4455280975251428240</id><updated>2012-01-16T16:02:06.849-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Smarts.</title><subtitle type='html'>honest to blog.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>287</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5542788582573260199</id><published>2012-01-02T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T13:13:13.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2012</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;so its january 2 of 2012. and i havent blogged at all since last august... crazy. so much has happened but i feel like none of it is blog worthy. things here are a little bit crazy. my parents divorce is final. it is strange to be dating the same time as my mom. i feel like she needs to be a mom and pay more attention to her kids rather than her boyfriend. now i get that i am being a tiny bit hypocritical because i spend ALL my time with zach.but i dont have other people that i am responsible for. i dont have kids. i dont need to be there for anyone other than myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;my dad had a heart attack 3 days before christmas. it was really scary because none of us kids knew what was going on or what we needed to do or anything. but everything turned out fine and he was able to come home for christmas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i love my new job. LOVE it. i am pretty much left to my own devices. which is awesome. the things i am required to do arent hard or time consuming so as soon as i am done with everything i can play on the computer or read a book or color. pretty much whatever i want. its awesome. the people i work with are great too so thats good. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i put my two weeks in at rue. jc is moving stores and i really dont want to work for anyone else. pretty much the whole store wants to leave with him and that cant happen. plus, janica moved stores too and i cant stand the new manager we have. i worked with her at target and it didnt work for me then so i am pretty sure its not going to work now. its fine though because i make enough at hertz that its okay that i dont have this second job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;zach. zach zach zach. things with us are okay. sometimes i cant get enough of him and sometimes he drives me up a motherflippin wall and i want to kill him. we got into a HUGE argument. over like NOTHING! it was one of those things where the little problems had just accumulated over time and no one said anything and then one thing just pushed him over the edge. the fight itself wasnt what i had a problem with. it was how things were handled. and i just felt like the way he handled it was the way that my parents handled their problems and look where that got them? the thing with zach and him being in the military is that regardless of the fact that right now we arent looking to get married, its something that we both have to think about. he is going to commission in a year and a half. so that means he is leaving. and if i decide that i want to go with him, we have to be married. so, i dont want to waste his time or my time if it isnt going to go anywhere. i do love him. and i do care about him. but there are a lot of deal breakers and i dont know if those dealbreakers are something i can learn to live with and get used to or if everything just needs to be called off...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;toph pretty much wrote me off. and i cant say that i blame him. i havent been fair to him at all. i dont know what was going through my head to think that i could have my cake and eat it too. i think that we have decided that we will just see what happens when gets home in&amp;nbsp;6 weeks but i think that is easier said than done. i think that in the almost&amp;nbsp;2 years that he has been gone, that we have just been so emotionally removed from each other and thats why we can sit there and say "oh yeah we will just see." but i have a feeling that once we see each other, every emotion in the book is going to run through us and its going to be a lot harder than anticipated. not only that, i havent been living the lifestyle that he asked me to when he left. not even close. i tried there for a while but it was for him. not for me. so what&amp;nbsp;do i do when he gets home? do i tell him everything that i&amp;nbsp;have done? or do i not&amp;nbsp;say anything&amp;nbsp;because the agreement that we had was that i could do what i wanted while&amp;nbsp;he was&amp;nbsp;gone, but i would&amp;nbsp;also have to live with the consequences when&amp;nbsp;he got home.&amp;nbsp;i obviously still dont know what i am doing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;one of the guys i used to sort of date is getting married. and when i found out, i cried. its not that i loved the guy or anything. he was actually kind of a jerk hahah he basically stopped calling me because i wasnt putting out. but i did have fun with him and i loved the time that i spent with him. and i was a little bit jealous, to say the least, when i found out he had a new girlfriend. anyway, his finacee is friends with a girl i am friends with and i ran across her blog. she is sooooo in love with him. it almost makes me sick haha. and it kind of hit me. i dont know what love is.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i dont know that&amp;nbsp;i loved toph or zach or squeeze as much as she loves him.&amp;nbsp;if i really loved toph, would i have tried to get married as fast as i did? if i really loved zach would i still be talking to toph all the time? if i really&amp;nbsp;loved squeeze, would i have held on to him as long as i did instead of letting him go so that he could be happy? i&amp;nbsp;had fun with all of these boys and (i think) i&amp;nbsp;loved them and i cared about them and they made me happy and they made me cry and they [loved] me back. i know without a doubt they loved me. but i need to love myself. and i need to make my own happiness. i need to not conform to whatever lifestyle my current boyfriend at the time is living. i do want to go to church, i do want to have a temple marriage. its just a little too late for me to have that lifestyle with toph. and thats okay. it might be toph. it might not. same with zach. it might be zach. it might not. there are 7 BILLION people in this world and i am fixated on 2.... thats not realistic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5542788582573260199?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5542788582573260199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5542788582573260199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2012/01/2012.html' title='2012'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4639562601380826861</id><published>2011-08-09T13:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T12:38:46.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Been  A Minute. A Long Minute.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;so like a ton of ish has happened over the past couple of months.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;1. i cut my hair! like 12 inches off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;before:&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2jkWRK2pEVI/TwIHmbU0qzI/AAAAAAAAAt8/7Guub5EmVZE/s1600/hair%2B2" imageanchor="1" style=""&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2jkWRK2pEVI/TwIHmbU0qzI/AAAAAAAAAt8/7Guub5EmVZE/s320/hair%2B2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;after:&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuXmBqaiOgc/TwIHvn-d4rI/AAAAAAAAAuI/EJpoHJAWVVU/s1600/hair%2B1" imageanchor="1" style=""&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuXmBqaiOgc/TwIHvn-d4rI/AAAAAAAAAuI/EJpoHJAWVVU/s320/hair%2B1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;well i was trying to add some pictures but it didnt really work ha so i will update this sucker when it decides it wants to work and show off my hair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;2. i went to minnesota with zacharyyy(: yay!! it was so much fun. haha he has thee nicest family. they were so much fun. we went boating and swimming and tubing(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;also. we went to the mall of america!!! chyeah!! and the mall of america has this underwater world thing and they have a jellyfish room!!!(: i was so excited! so excited that i promtly ran into a wall at full force because i was busy looking at the jellies. no big.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;3. i am moving out. haha. so much for being a grown up. its just not a good living situation for me anymore. there are just a lot of other things i want to be doing and money is involved in those things. so&amp;nbsp; i will be saving a lot by not having to pay rent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;4. i will also be saving more because i got a new job. a big girl job! in an office!(: yayyyy!!! you have no idea how happy this makes me. but. currently i have 3 jobs. including this new one. and i still want to have two, i just dont know what job i want to keep from the previous two. i could definitely do all three. haha i would just be worked to death and have no social life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;5. i turn 20 in 8 days. i know. its a little weird. i dont like that i wont be a teenager anymore. haha i am technically a young adult. joy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;hmmph. there were some other things i was going to talk about. i swear i will be more consistent with this again. i used to be a freaking blogging champion and do it everyday but i have slacked a lot. it will get better. Missionary comes home in 6 months. its legit. it has gone by so fast. he emailed me last week and told me that he couldnt email me anymore and part of me was kind of happy. i think that it would have been a good thing for us to not talk and see how things panned out when he got home. so i dont email him back because there is no point and then i get an email yesterday and apparently he can still email me now. blah. i should be happy but then the "good thing" for us is now gone. whatever. and i know that most of you are thinking "what are you going to do with zacharyyy?" shut up and stop asking me all these questions. because the answer will be the same as every other time it has been asked with every other guy. i. dont. know. we, as in zach and i, have talked about it and i think that everything will be okay... at least in my head. we will see(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;life is looking up. i used to be super stressed and angry all the time. but things are slowly getting better and i feel like i am getting my life back on track and everything will be okay(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4639562601380826861?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4639562601380826861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4639562601380826861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/08/its-been-minute-long-minute.html' title='Its Been  A Minute. A Long Minute.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2jkWRK2pEVI/TwIHmbU0qzI/AAAAAAAAAt8/7Guub5EmVZE/s72-c/hair%2B2' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2993320597084774320</id><published>2011-06-17T16:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T16:02:09.285-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Had A Really Good Title For This....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;are you sick of my talking about Ex-Squeeze? good because i am sick of writing about him. but. we are going to anyways. i realize its been a long time since i have written on this sucker but things tend to get hectic. and i dont always have time to sit and write. but today while i have a minute, i will try to fill you in on as much as i can. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana;"&gt;first of all. Ex-Squeeze. random. i know. its been months. and it probably isnt anything. just me being a girl and over analyzing everything. but i was driving around ogden the other day with zacharyyy and we drove past where Ex-Squeeze used to live. so that was just weird. and then we drove up to the spot where he and i would go have our fights and our make ups and make outs... thats just our spot. so it felt suuuuuper weird to be up there with someone else. i mean i love that spot. ha good an bad times have happened there but it will always be "our" place. well we drive home and&amp;nbsp;i hop on the social network site and bam! "Ex-Sqeeze wants to be your friend on facebook. accept. not now." what effing button do i hit? i mean its the freaking internet. i am not accepting him to come into the same room as me. its just strange. i dont want to know what he is doing or not doing with his life. i cant say that i dont care because i definitely do. i just dont want to obsess over it. and i know me. and i know i will. so then i had a dream that the reason he added me was because he found this bad mother of a blog... and was pissed. i doubt that is the case but ya never know... and i dont think i will. not now at least. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i&amp;nbsp;hit the not now button. be proud. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;anyways. mr zacharyyy is my boyfrannn. for like&amp;nbsp;a month now. ha good times. in a month i am flying out to minnesota with him and his family to meet the rest of the extended family. soooo we will see how that goes. i dont exactly know what the fuhh i am doing. like usual. i am just going with the flow. he made me choose between him and Missionary...&amp;nbsp; why am i always put in this situation? why cant i just do what i want and have both? i just need to go away. and kiss lots of new men. i love Missionary. and i love Ex-Squeeze. and i really really really like zacharyyy. i just know that when Missionary gets home, its gonna be rough for all of us...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;uhmmm yeah. i guess there wasnt a whole lot to fill in. everything is pretty much the same. yay for summer. finally(; i need to go swimming. who is coming with me?(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2993320597084774320?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2993320597084774320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2993320597084774320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-had-really-good-title-for-this.html' title='I Had A Really Good Title For This....'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2220100453644963236</id><published>2011-05-19T21:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T21:24:14.736-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pfft, This Is Stupid.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;seriously, i am retarded. let me back up for half a sec. okay so five seconds ago i was reading my friend aubrees blog and she was talking about how she is over her horrible ex. wonderful. best news i have ever heard. ever. so then she goes on to say how she compromised who she was and what she stood for and blah blah blah. not thats its blah but you get the point. now. lets get back on track. i hate everything about the fact that caden has a girlfriend. like it seriously makes me jealous. and. keep in kind here, i havent forgot about Missionary. and i am steadily dating mr zacharyyy who may or may not become my legit official boyfriend in the near future. why does this bother me so much? it shouldnt. because like aubree was saying... boys are big fat retards who make us girls compromise. and when i didnt compromise with caden, he dropped me completely. why do i want to be with someone like that? why do i want to be with someone who only wants to have sex with me? what the hell is wrong with me? the best part it, i wasnt even a skank with him. i had my scandalous days and he was not involved in them. ugh. this is stupid. i dont even know why i am concerned with this. whatever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;also. since we are brought up stupidness and exes and boys and such. i just need to get this out about kayla. also, i know after reading what i just wrote you are going to think i am stupid and hypocritical but i dont care because i already know. anyways. so amanda is like my best friend in the world right? well, one of them. the one i have had the longest. so she invites me to have lunch with her at her job. which is also where kayla works. so i get there and kayla sees me for like half a sec, turns around and runs down the hall. really? youre retarded. so that was sunday. well then! i get a call yesterday from amanda and it was her first day back at work since then and i guess that kayla told all the other nurses there that i had been trying to break her and zacharyyy up for the past three years and just ragged on me. which is fine. talk about me all you want. but get your freaking facts straight. i was in a relationship with Missionary for 2 years. and kind of still am even though after he left, i was engaged to Ex-Squeeze. and the times that Ex-Squeeze and i were off, i was with caden and Boyfriend. like ugh! shut up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;so i really want to say something to her. but i feel like that isnt going to accomplish anything. and i really dont want to throw zacharyyy in the middle of this even though he kind of already is but really, it isnt his problem. my problem, is that he isnt here right now. and he wont be for another week. and its taking forever. i cant even talk to him.&amp;nbsp;i hate the army. shhh dont tell him i said that. i dont want this to be the first thing thrown on him when he gets home. it should be a fun time. i hate boys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2220100453644963236?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2220100453644963236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2220100453644963236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/05/pfft-this-is-stupid.html' title='Pfft, This Is Stupid.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4796101353171832514</id><published>2011-05-16T21:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T21:18:42.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need A Life(:</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;man i suck. so remember that time i said i didnt wanna talk about my feelings? yeah, i take that back. because i dont even have a real life person to vent to. so now we are back to writing about stupid feelings and unnecessary drama again. here we go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i dont even know what to start with. i dont even have that many problems. its just the same ones consistently.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;work. work sucks. i had another job lined up and it didnt go through which freaking sucks haha. i dont mind my jobs. i really dont. but thats just it. i dont love them either. i am so done with retail. i just want to be a grown up with a grown up job. and it bothers me that i cant get one. soon enough though, yeah?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;my living situation. i didnt think it was going to be this rough. i would just like all of you to know that it has nothing to do with Ex-Squeeze or his family whatsoever. even though they still suck. laura is just super hard to live with. its almost worse than my mom. i just feel like there needs to be some&amp;nbsp;boundaries and some consideration. i dont mind helping her out with Baby. just not all the time. especially when i feel like the time she has with Baby is limited. she should be spending it with him. i also dont mind it when she borrows my clothes. she just needs to A. wash them when she is done. and 2. not stretch them out. that is all i ask. i dont think thats too much. on the plus side. she definitely cleans the house way more than i do and she doesnt complain about it. so thats good(: haha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;pffft. boys. man. i dont even know what to do. so i am not a jealous person when i am in a relationship. because they are mine. all mine one hundred percent all the time. mine. i dont know what to do when they arent mine. so me and mr zacharyyy.... &amp;nbsp;what the hell are we? we do everything that people in relationships do... but he isnt my boyfriend. so that means he can do whatever he wants. he doesnt. but he could. and it drives me nuts. i hate his ex girlfriend. i hate her. and this isnt like "i hate her because she was with him" type of thing. i have hated this girl for like ever. she is retarded. whatever. anyways. also. i dont know what to do about Missionary. because i dont want to get involved with zacharyyy just to have to break up with him when toph comes home. thats not cool. i dont want to just have him here to bide my time. but also, i dont want to not be involved in the event that t and i dont work out. i hate my life. haha. not really. things could be a lot worse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i found out that a girl i went to school with got in a really bad accident and had to go to the hospital for surgery. its a huge fat mess. and we all hope that she will be okay. so any of you that read this that know cierra, and even the ones that dont, pray for her recovery(: it would be greatly appreciated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4796101353171832514?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4796101353171832514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4796101353171832514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/05/man-i-suck.html' title='I Need A Life(:'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4299732269398841139</id><published>2011-04-29T08:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T08:22:00.597-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 15</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 15: What you would do if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i would cry. thats it. haha i dont know what else i would do other than cry. good tears and bad. bad because i was so completely stupid in not being safe. or for having sex in the first place. bad because then everything i have with Missionary would be gone. good because... well. i dont know if its a good thing but then i would be a mom. i would have a&amp;nbsp;huge responsibility to love and support this baby for the rest of its life. i dont know how i would do that, but i would. i'm not in high school anymore. i have a job and a house and i would own up. i wouldnt give it up for adoption or anything like that. it would be mine. i dont think i have anything to worry about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4299732269398841139?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4299732269398841139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4299732269398841139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-15.html' title='Day 15'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-338564970469204473</id><published>2011-04-28T08:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T08:20:01.270-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 14</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 14: Something you love about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i can make people laugh. even when it isnt on purpose. i love that i have a sense of humor and that i can take a joke. i can take just as much as i give when it comes to teasing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-338564970469204473?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/338564970469204473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/338564970469204473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-14.html' title='Day 14'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1794561178299523009</id><published>2011-04-27T20:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T20:20:36.558-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 13: Your least favorite female group.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;uhmm... pfffft. i dont know. haha. she is not a group but christina aguilara drives me insane. i mean, the girl can sing, dont get me wrong. i just hate what she sings about and how annoying she is in person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;also. i cant believe it took me this long to think of her. taylor effing swift. i hate her too(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;okay so i know i said that i wouldnt be posting but this 30 day challenge thing is kind of different. i guess i should clarify. i dont know how personal my posts are going to be. as far as Missionary and Zacharyyy and Boyfriend and life and stuff. you get it, right? i just kind of feel like i am having the same problems with everything and that means that i'm the problem. and i feel bad writing&amp;nbsp; the same ish all the time and having you read the same damn thing. we will see though. ha. this is my outlet. even if it isnt safe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1794561178299523009?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1794561178299523009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1794561178299523009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-13.html' title='Day 13'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5358647034045624808</id><published>2011-04-23T20:44:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T20:44:47.767-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Really. Feelings Will Always Be Stupid.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i am a bit of a mess right now. and for once, i&amp;nbsp;dont particularly feel like writing about it. not right now. i am way too pissed. too hurt. too much of everything at the moment.&amp;nbsp;i feel stretched too thin. and as a result of this, i&amp;nbsp;dont exactly&amp;nbsp;know how often i am going to be posting.&amp;nbsp;i know i’ve already been posting a lot less lately. for some reason, i'm all annoyed at my blog right now. annoyed at its existence.&amp;nbsp;i don't know why. blah. thats not true. i do know why.&amp;nbsp;my blog has always been my safe space. sort of.&amp;nbsp;to just be me. as well as i know how to be me. so when life gets crazy usually&amp;nbsp;i find this space a little bit relieving. but it's the last place&amp;nbsp;i want to be right now. just going over all my old posts has made me sick. i dont know where i lost myself and my goals in life. it drives me up a wall to think about how absolutely stupid i was. i just feel like my blog isnt a safe place anymore.&amp;nbsp;but. i also dont want to delete it. me and my freaking internal battles. ha. i'll get back on. i'll post more. i just need some time to get over things i havent and figure out what i am doing and hopefully turn this sucker into something that i will want to look back at. not something that is going to remind me of how crappy i am. so this is just my way of saying “hey i’m sorry for sucking and sorry that i’ll probably continue to suck for a while” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5358647034045624808?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5358647034045624808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5358647034045624808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-am-bit-of-mess-right-now.html' title='Really. Feelings Will Always Be Stupid.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2521122749134613228</id><published>2011-04-10T20:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T20:13:53.191-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #30</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9eIuW8nMRKk/TaJj1YVbLNI/AAAAAAAAAqM/E_DQlK5yqGQ/s1600/Kobenhavens2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9eIuW8nMRKk/TaJj1YVbLNI/AAAAAAAAAqM/E_DQlK5yqGQ/s320/Kobenhavens2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2521122749134613228?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2521122749134613228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2521122749134613228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/post-secret-30.html' title='Post Secret #30'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9eIuW8nMRKk/TaJj1YVbLNI/AAAAAAAAAqM/E_DQlK5yqGQ/s72-c/Kobenhavens2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8333530037859361699</id><published>2011-04-06T16:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T16:41:07.736-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love My Life So Much Right Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i'm moving out! yay!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i love my jazz more than ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;gordon hayward is my hero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i effing hate kobe bryant. thats what he gets for being arrogant. and a rapist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;also. i love tosh(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i just love today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;right here. right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i love my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" height="376" id="ordie_player_c7ac110c43" width="448"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://player.ordienetworks.com/flash/fodplayer.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="key=c7ac110c43" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed width="448" height="376" flashvars="key=c7ac110c43" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" quality="high" src="http://player.ordienetworks.com/flash/fodplayer.swf" name="ordie_player_c7ac110c43" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: x-small; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 448px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/c7ac110c43/daniel-tosh-kobe-bryant-and-basketball-from-standupfan" title="from standupfan"&gt;Daniel Tosh - Kobe Bryant and Basketball&lt;/a&gt; - watch more &lt;a href="http://www.funnyordie.com/" title="on Funny or Die"&gt;funny videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8333530037859361699?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8333530037859361699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8333530037859361699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-love-my-life-so-much-right-now.html' title='I Love My Life So Much Right Now'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1792523104285843886</id><published>2011-04-03T14:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T14:23:44.179-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Number 12</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 12: Your favorite female group.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;well its not really a whole group of females but the lead singer is so paramore(: love them! they got me through some tough days(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1792523104285843886?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1792523104285843886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1792523104285843886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-number-12.html' title='Day Number 12'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3583201402698030062</id><published>2011-04-03T14:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T14:21:05.814-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #29</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bprJy2zzNiY/TZjWrczex9I/AAAAAAAAAqI/jJSWQF3pbUA/s1600/thankyou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bprJy2zzNiY/TZjWrczex9I/AAAAAAAAAqI/jJSWQF3pbUA/s320/thankyou.jpg" width="222" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3583201402698030062?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3583201402698030062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3583201402698030062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/post-secret-29.html' title='Post Secret #29'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bprJy2zzNiY/TZjWrczex9I/AAAAAAAAAqI/jJSWQF3pbUA/s72-c/thankyou.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5450442107440107132</id><published>2011-04-02T06:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T06:37:00.398-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 11. I Quit Spanish.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 11: A letter to one of your exes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i dont think i consider Missionary an ex. he just kind of left. and we still talk. so that leaves Ex-Squeeze. i have said everything i could have to this kid but whatever. this is what i would write.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;squeeze:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i really loved you. you know that i did. and i know that you loved me back. i didnt want it to mean that much to me. i never thought that we would have had the realtionship that we did. and having said that, i never thought things would have ended the way they did. i didnt think they would end at all. i guess thats why i dont understand why things turned out the way that they did. you always said to me "ash, you dont get it right now, but one day you will." i am still waiting on that one day to come because i am still in the dark. i hate when we called it quits, nothing you said made sense. and i hate that you felt like you couldnt tell me the truth in order to spare my feelings. and in the long run, you just made them hurt so much more than necessary. i wish you would have just let me go when things ended the first time instead of dragging them out in what might have been the longest 9 months of my life. i dont understand why you married the girl that you cheated on. i dont understand why you said you cant love two people yet you say that you will always love me... and your wife. i dont understand why you let everyone else get involved when you told me to forget about everyone else's opinion and just focus on us. i dont understand how you had like 5 reasons for why you broke up with me. all of which happened at different times. one stands out to me the most. you told me that you were driving past a church. and it hit you that you didnt know who your wife was... that could not have been more accurate. you didnt know who i was. who i am. i changed everything about me and what i wanted for you. i rearranged my everything for you. and you never saw that. but the few times you did, you took advantage. and its not okay. thats why you didnt know who your wife was. and that doesnt mean that it wasnt supposed to be me. it very well could have been. you just didnt know. i do want to say though, thank you for being you the whole time. thank you for not trying to be someone else with me. as much as i hated what you did, you did it because it is who you are. i dont think you are who you want to be right now. and thats okay. you'll get there. i learned a lot by being with you. i dont think that what we had was a bad thing. not at first. break ups suck. and ours was awful. the being in a relationship part was amazing. i think it was the best thing that could have happened to both of us. what we had was one hundred percent completely real and raw&amp;nbsp;and i wouldnt change it for the world. not very many people get the chance to have a love like ours. i hope youre doing okay. i hope that she is everything you needed that i couldnt give you. i honestly mean that. i realize that just because two people love each other, doesnt mean that they are supposed to be together. and i love you enough to let you go. i love you enough to let you be happy. even though i'm not that happiness. i hope that one day i get to talk to you again. not consistently, but every now and then. just to check up. because thats what friends do(;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i miss you. more than you know. more than i should. but there it is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5450442107440107132?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5450442107440107132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5450442107440107132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-11-i-quit-spanish.html' title='Day 11. I Quit Spanish.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5447253700162550681</id><published>2011-04-01T23:49:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T23:50:11.264-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You Know What I Hate?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;- the lakers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;- kayla.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;- not being in control of this situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;- the fact that Missionary is gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;- mostly the lakers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;scum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5447253700162550681?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5447253700162550681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5447253700162550681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-know-what-i-hate.html' title='You Know What I Hate?'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8851554910273918861</id><published>2011-04-01T18:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T18:30:00.675-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Or Ten(;</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 10: Your best friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;ahh such an unfair thing. i have lots of best friends. amanda. britny. laura. brandon. my sistor. my bro-ha. christine. ariel. beck and core. chelsea keller. sierra. mostly Missionary. you guys i am such a horrible person!!! i love Missionary so much. and i think i may have told you that he told me that the hardest time a girl has with a missionary is between 9 and 14 months. and now i get it. he has been out forever. and he still has forever left. and i havent done anything productive towards our relationship. only destructive. blah. i guess we will see what happens when he gets home...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8851554910273918861?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8851554910273918861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8851554910273918861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/04/or-ten.html' title='Or Ten(;'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9200901340785506226</id><published>2011-03-31T18:20:00.027-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T18:20:00.563-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Dont Know How To Spell 9 In Spanish.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 9: Your definition of love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="pronset" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="show_spellpr" style="display: block; margin-top: 8px;"&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;love.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="pron"&gt;luhv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="pg" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;"&gt;noun,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;"&gt;verb,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="secondary-bf" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;"&gt;loved,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default; font-weight: normal;"&gt;lov·ing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default; font-size: xx-small; font-weight: normal;"&gt;i love love. although i dont know exactly how to describe it. i couldnt tell you how i know that i love Missionary or Boyfriend or how i loved Ex-Squeeze. i just feel it. i just know. i dont think its the thought of you cant live without them. you can. because you have. its that you dont want to. its that you want to do better because of them. they make you a better person. and not because they are changing you, but because you are changing for the better because you feel that they are so much better than yourself. its patience. its fighting. its making up. and knowing that no matter how mad they make you, you still want to work things out. its sitting in an empty apartment with nothing but a mattress and coloring and laughing at nothing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9200901340785506226?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9200901340785506226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9200901340785506226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-dont-know-how-to-spell-9-in-spanish.html' title='I Dont Know How To Spell 9 In Spanish.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6879706889125592214</id><published>2011-03-30T09:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T09:27:43.710-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Ocho</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 8: Something you hate about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;first of all, i really dont know why i decided to write the titles in spanish haha i just did. anyways. i did something like this not too long ago. and i am pretty sure i still hate all those things about myself. but right now, i hate that i dont know who i am. i hate that i dont know how to be me.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6879706889125592214?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6879706889125592214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6879706889125592214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-ocho.html' title='Day Numero Ocho'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6854050487726027491</id><published>2011-03-30T00:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T01:02:13.356-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day To Remember.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;more like a night to remember. holy hell. i cant hear anything. like at all. my ears are still ringing. i proabably wont be able to talk tomorrow. my toes are bloody. and my hair is curly, even though i went in with straight hair. i smell absolutely disgusting. and my arms have never been so briused. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;i loved everything about this concert. i did almost die. twice. hahaha but i'm okay. obviously. b got blood on his shirt. my bra snapped. like literally snapped in the front.&amp;nbsp;i was like uhmm what is going on with my strap? and then i realized the bra itself was just broken. i got kicked in the face. more than once. i fought a girl. and i touched some band members(: bring me the horizon is SICK! like credit, money, legit amazing. i love them. i almost died when they played. also. pierce the veil has like thee hottest bassist. he looks like caden(: just hotter. and we came as romans bassist is pretty legit too. adtr. you rocked my world. even if you totally sold out. thanks for the great show.&amp;nbsp;oh man. best. night. ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LOIADWWZn34/TZLP02xBJoI/AAAAAAAAAp4/-7jLBwdOuZc/s1600/adtr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LOIADWWZn34/TZLP02xBJoI/AAAAAAAAAp4/-7jLBwdOuZc/s320/adtr.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;adtr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oWqdbEkiJr0/TZLQOXlDE_I/AAAAAAAAAp8/dlHaF-0Taoc/s1600/Bring%252BMe%252BThe%252BHorizon%252B%252B2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="235" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oWqdbEkiJr0/TZLQOXlDE_I/AAAAAAAAAp8/dlHaF-0Taoc/s320/Bring%252BMe%252BThe%252BHorizon%252B%252B2009.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;bmth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zLzZ60FtuUk/TZLQhv9_rII/AAAAAAAAAqA/oDkSkOIq0AY/s1600/Pierce%252Bthe%252BVeil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="215" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zLzZ60FtuUk/TZLQhv9_rII/AAAAAAAAAqA/oDkSkOIq0AY/s320/Pierce%252Bthe%252BVeil.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;ptv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WYpl0bmL95I/TZLQrDAIN2I/AAAAAAAAAqE/4X6p3jgT7wI/s1600/WeCameAsRomans.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WYpl0bmL95I/TZLQrDAIN2I/AAAAAAAAAqE/4X6p3jgT7wI/s320/WeCameAsRomans.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"&gt;wcas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6854050487726027491?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6854050487726027491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6854050487726027491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-to-remember.html' title='A Day To Remember.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LOIADWWZn34/TZLP02xBJoI/AAAAAAAAAp4/-7jLBwdOuZc/s72-c/adtr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8442493951163901463</id><published>2011-03-29T00:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T00:05:49.916-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Siete</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Day 7. Your Crush.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;Boyfriend. Boyfriend is my crush. and its a crush because i cant have him and it bothers the crap out of me. he is so cute. and so smart. and he loves Baby. he is the cutest daddy in the world. he has the most beautiful smile you have ever seen in your life and you cant help but just melt inside and try to smile back without looking like an idiot. he is super built but holds me like he could break me at any second. although i love his big bear hugs. it sucks that he is leaving soon. but he'll be back. and maybe we can try to take a shot at this thing again. that is, if i'm not with zach. ha. here is the thing. thinking about it, maybe zacharyyy is my crush. and i am actually totally in love with Boyfriend...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;yeah, thats it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;lets talk about zach. this whole "i need to just 'be'" thing is not working out. its been like forever and&amp;nbsp;i still havent figured it out. whatever. so zacharyyy. he is a sweetheart too. i just dont know him yet. which is weirdish because even though i dont know him super great, i am one hundred percent comfortable with him. like there is never any awkwardness. just fun. and he makes me laugh(: and he lets me sleep on him. and do whatever i want. i have more of a chance of being with him than with Boyfriend. and i just decided that i am okay with that. because Boyfriend is a bag of d. and i am not okay with that. zacharyyy has yet to show me he sucks at life. so i think i am okay there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;also. speaking of which. i hate exes. i hate them. mostly because they are stupid. i was a stupid ex. i know it. i can admit it. but i never interfered with his relationship... kinda. he made it happen. but we arent talking about me. so anyways. we will call her...... i dont know what we will call her. chances are she wont find this blog and if she does. whatever. so kayla. and zach. they were together for like ever. 2 years. thats a long time ha. and then they broke up. anddd i told zacharyyy that i didnt care that they talked or that they hung out or whatever. he isnt my boyfriend so he can do what he wants. well i spent the night and she called him while i was there and&amp;nbsp;i was like dude. you totally could have answered that and then i left a little while later and the first text i got from him was "exes are super annoying sometimes" long story short, he told me that he told kayla that they are done and its easier if they dont talk because its drama. which is totally true. this girl causes more drama than myself. so the other day i get a call from amanda and she is like i have to tell you what kayla said! so kayla told her that she gets calls and texts from zacharyyy saying that he still loves her and still misses her and blah blah blah. and then is like we are over i dont care. she should just know thats whats going on. like what a backassward way of going about things. if it was that big of a deal, you call me. dont have it go through someone else. but then! it gets better! remember that one time that i told you Missionary and i broke up? well, i hooked it up with benjamin, amandas brother in law,&amp;nbsp;but i got back with t and he got back with this whore and&amp;nbsp;it is what it is. well i have&amp;nbsp;been trying to&amp;nbsp;talk to ben for&amp;nbsp;a long time and he was still with whore and so he wouldnt talk&amp;nbsp;to me. now he is trying and i am like uhmm hi i am dating zacharyyy now.&amp;nbsp;so KAYLA wants to date him. lady, the only reason he&amp;nbsp;is going out with you is because&amp;nbsp;i said no. how does that make you feel? i&amp;nbsp;just dont understand why she is going out of her way to focus so much&amp;nbsp;on me. youre like 21. grow up. i'll freaking kill you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8442493951163901463?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8442493951163901463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8442493951163901463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-siete.html' title='Day Numero Siete'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2497840081580904380</id><published>2011-03-28T19:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T19:10:39.824-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess What!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;its snowing right now. not the exact weather i want it to be but oh well. its cuddle weather. and i just read my email from Missionary. so it makes me want him to come home so i can cuddle with him. however, zacharyyy is here. so i can cuddle with him. not here at my house just here as in not 6000 miles away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;anyways! my real guess what was that i now have computer access thats not at my dads! heck yes! because he gets mad that the only reason i go up there is to use the computer and now that is not the case anymore. but! i am leaving in a week to move into my way legit townhouse. its still closer to where i am at now rather than my dads so yay for that. i am so excited to move. i am about ready to punch my mom in the face. really. i am. its not good. but whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhm i think i was going to say something else? i dont remember. a day to remember concert tomorrow! heck yes!!! i am so excited. if i dont get on here anymore its because i got trampled to death.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2497840081580904380?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2497840081580904380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2497840081580904380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/guess-what.html' title='Guess What!?'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5731668933776445035</id><published>2011-03-28T15:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T15:04:00.500-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Seis</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 6: A song that makes you cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;let go by frou frou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;drink up, baby down&lt;br /&gt;mmm, are you in or are you out&lt;br /&gt;leave your things behind&lt;br /&gt;'cause it's all going off without you&lt;br /&gt;excuse me, too busy you're writing your tragedy&lt;br /&gt;these mishaps&lt;br /&gt;you bubble wrap&lt;br /&gt;when you've no idea what you're like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so let go, jump in&lt;br /&gt;oh well, whatcha waiting for&lt;br /&gt;it's alright&lt;br /&gt;'cause there's beauty in the breakdown&lt;br /&gt;so let go, just get in&lt;br /&gt;oh, it's so amazing here&lt;br /&gt;it's alright&lt;br /&gt;'cause there's beauty in the breakdown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it gains the more it gives&lt;br /&gt;and then it rises with the fall&lt;br /&gt;so hand me that remote&lt;br /&gt;can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;such boundless pleasure&lt;br /&gt;we've no time for later now&lt;br /&gt;you can't await your own arrival&lt;br /&gt;you've 20 seconds to comply&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so let go, jump in&lt;br /&gt;oh well, whatcha waiting for&lt;br /&gt;it's alright&lt;br /&gt;'cause there's beauty in the breakdown&lt;br /&gt;so let go, just get in&lt;br /&gt;oh, it's so amazing here&lt;br /&gt;it's alright&lt;br /&gt;'cause there's beauty in the breakdown&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5731668933776445035?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5731668933776445035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5731668933776445035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-seis.html' title='Day Numero Seis'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4208554847343384315</id><published>2011-03-27T15:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T15:06:00.468-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #28</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CTcvuTnhblU/TYuyo-mDpII/AAAAAAAAAps/0WyG_MQn4nk/s1600/tumblr_lhibduMq1L1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CTcvuTnhblU/TYuyo-mDpII/AAAAAAAAAps/0WyG_MQn4nk/s320/tumblr_lhibduMq1L1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4208554847343384315?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4208554847343384315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4208554847343384315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/post-secret-28.html' title='Post Secret #28'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CTcvuTnhblU/TYuyo-mDpII/AAAAAAAAAps/0WyG_MQn4nk/s72-c/tumblr_lhibduMq1L1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5273313715197155353</id><published>2011-03-27T15:03:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T15:03:00.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Cinco</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 5: A photo of something you really hate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span id="goog_2076202849"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="goog_2076202850"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ieVCny3VjaE/TYuxHJMNKTI/AAAAAAAAApo/HZ8dYduS21Y/s1600/kb24+all+4+js.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ieVCny3VjaE/TYuxHJMNKTI/AAAAAAAAApo/HZ8dYduS21Y/s320/kb24+all+4+js.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Screw Kobe. My bro-ha's jerseys,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5273313715197155353?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5273313715197155353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5273313715197155353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-cinco_27.html' title='Day Numero Cinco'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ieVCny3VjaE/TYuxHJMNKTI/AAAAAAAAApo/HZ8dYduS21Y/s72-c/kb24+all+4+js.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-225615198282006537</id><published>2011-03-26T14:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T14:52:00.623-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Cuatro</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 4: A photo of you and your family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-RzM2oe7Qk9w/TYuvNyIn9RI/AAAAAAAAApc/GMylKH6hNUM/s1600/4427_110091634195_802784195_2707967_5340443_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-RzM2oe7Qk9w/TYuvNyIn9RI/AAAAAAAAApc/GMylKH6hNUM/s320/4427_110091634195_802784195_2707967_5340443_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N9q04a2GMWY/TYuvfxvQSuI/AAAAAAAAApg/KfU2JzTvNkk/s1600/vegas+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N9q04a2GMWY/TYuvfxvQSuI/AAAAAAAAApg/KfU2JzTvNkk/s320/vegas+016.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-WIUI9UNuvr4/TYuwHiCLtHI/AAAAAAAAApk/C9vg48Reefw/s1600/ashlee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="185" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-WIUI9UNuvr4/TYuwHiCLtHI/AAAAAAAAApk/C9vg48Reefw/s320/ashlee.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-225615198282006537?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/225615198282006537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/225615198282006537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-cuatro.html' title='Day Numero Cuatro'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-RzM2oe7Qk9w/TYuvNyIn9RI/AAAAAAAAApc/GMylKH6hNUM/s72-c/4427_110091634195_802784195_2707967_5340443_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1630375081051818657</id><published>2011-03-25T14:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T14:34:00.269-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Tres</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 3: A photo of you and your friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SPyWO2UwILw/TYusfXPLLOI/AAAAAAAAApA/77NexgjAiTE/s1600/april+019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SPyWO2UwILw/TYusfXPLLOI/AAAAAAAAApA/77NexgjAiTE/s320/april+019.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-jfD3E7y_Er4/TYuslZ-gWCI/AAAAAAAAApE/4BYmNzXmKB0/s1600/april+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-jfD3E7y_Er4/TYuslZ-gWCI/AAAAAAAAApE/4BYmNzXmKB0/s320/april+016.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uTz4_9ethDo/TYutXoNhxjI/AAAAAAAAApI/avUmLCUW884/s1600/ash+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uTz4_9ethDo/TYutXoNhxjI/AAAAAAAAApI/avUmLCUW884/s320/ash+016.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NeRcWGZZvos/TYutfRPmxDI/AAAAAAAAApM/Eu-xXeR_OVY/s1600/ash+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NeRcWGZZvos/TYutfRPmxDI/AAAAAAAAApM/Eu-xXeR_OVY/s320/ash+031.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-YqosXAByitc/TYuugeDgY-I/AAAAAAAAApQ/vyU0-CYSVT0/s1600/IMG_7677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-YqosXAByitc/TYuugeDgY-I/AAAAAAAAApQ/vyU0-CYSVT0/s320/IMG_7677.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-r4DenzELc5I/TYuuvQbYqBI/AAAAAAAAApU/milLrMjPlPY/s1600/IMG_7015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-r4DenzELc5I/TYuuvQbYqBI/AAAAAAAAApU/milLrMjPlPY/s320/IMG_7015.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cwIEzzBK5Uc/TYuu2cfw2II/AAAAAAAAApY/j7-11AxjsiI/s1600/n673183026_1482370_4431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cwIEzzBK5Uc/TYuu2cfw2II/AAAAAAAAApY/j7-11AxjsiI/s320/n673183026_1482370_4431.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-FcAxSOHfcys/TYusYZuvQyI/AAAAAAAAAo8/qb-KLed63Y4/s1600/Photos+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-FcAxSOHfcys/TYusYZuvQyI/AAAAAAAAAo8/qb-KLed63Y4/s320/Photos+018.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1630375081051818657?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1630375081051818657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1630375081051818657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-tres.html' title='Day Numero Tres'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SPyWO2UwILw/TYusfXPLLOI/AAAAAAAAApA/77NexgjAiTE/s72-c/april+019.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-980173587747969917</id><published>2011-03-24T14:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T14:33:47.419-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Dos.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 2: The meaning behind your name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhm i honestly dont know. ha. i think my ma just liked the name ashlee. and i think the double 'e' is just a family thing. alis is my mothers middle name so i got the same(: and duran. i think its hispanic. considering thats what i am. i think it originated from spain if i am not mistaken. but i could be, ha! there it is. ashlee alis duran. thats me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-980173587747969917?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/980173587747969917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/980173587747969917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-dos.html' title='Day Numero Dos.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4918442316127143696</id><published>2011-03-23T22:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T22:12:22.727-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Numero Uno. Again.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 1: A recent photo of you &amp;amp; 5 interesting facts about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cqVJK_XizmM/TAmKsH_M0ZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/c5FtfLItbkg/s1600/Ashleee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cqVJK_XizmM/TAmKsH_M0ZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/c5FtfLItbkg/s320/Ashleee.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;1. i paint my nails weekly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;2. chili's salsa is the only salsa i will eat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;3. i cry almost every day. and not because i am upset. i just like crying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;4. i hate shaving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;5. i live for bbq chicken pizza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4918442316127143696?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4918442316127143696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4918442316127143696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-numero-uno-again.html' title='Day Numero Uno. Again.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cqVJK_XizmM/TAmKsH_M0ZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/c5FtfLItbkg/s72-c/Ashleee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4488473683270614043</id><published>2011-03-22T22:00:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T22:00:59.077-06:00</updated><title type='text'>30 Day Blog Challenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 1: A recent photo of you &amp;amp; 5 interesting facts about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 2: The meaning behind your&amp;nbsp; name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 3: A photo of you and your friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 4: A photo of you and your family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 5: A photo of something you really hate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 6: A song that makes you cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 7: Your crush.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 8: Something you hate about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 9: Your definition of love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 10: Your best friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 11: A letter to one of your exes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 12: Your favorite female group.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 13: Your least favorite female group.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 14: Something you love about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 15: What you would do if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 16: A photo that makes you smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 17: A photo that makes you want to cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 18: A letter to someone you miss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 19: A habit you wish you didn’t have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 20: A letter to your parents.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 21: Short goals you wish to fulfill by the end of the month.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 22: Your nicknames &amp;amp; why you have them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 23: What you would find in your bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 24: A song that makes you smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 25: How you found out about blogging &amp;amp; why you made one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 26: First 10 songs to play on shuffle on your iPod.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 27: Your fashion style.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 28: What attracts you to someone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 29: Future plans/goals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 30: Who are you? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4488473683270614043?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4488473683270614043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4488473683270614043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/30-day-blog-challenge.html' title='30 Day Blog Challenge'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1735290076492235864</id><published>2011-03-19T18:49:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T22:01:21.231-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need A Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;I have no time to do anything. Ever. Haha. I used to kind of have a life. And now it's pretty much non existent. Blah! Okay so it's like the middle if march and I have two posts. Obviously, I still have no computer access. The only time I get on is Sunday nights to email Missionary back. And you would think that I would have time to throw down a Sunday secret but! I get on at my dads. And I think I already mentioned that my dad hates that i only go to the house when I need the computer. So I try to make it as fast as possible. Or be there when he isn't. But anywhoozer! I am definitely moving out! In like two weeks! Chyeah! I am sooooo excited. My roommate is Laura. And I get that some of you might think that's a tiny bit weird. And I get that. But it's really not that bad. It's not like I talk to anyone else so yeah! I'll post some pictures when we get all settled in. Hopefully I can get on this bad mother more once I'm in. Uhmm what else is going on in my life.... Boyfriend still drives me up a motherflipping wall. He called me to hang out the other night. Ask me if I went. I definitely did. Not. Ha! I really didn't. I was suuuuuuper tired from hanging out with mr zacharyyyy. I think I kinda like him. Way more than probably should. I don't know what the heck I am doing as usual. My jobs keep me pretty busy like I said but any free time is spent with him. And that's fine. I just don't want to get attached too fast. So far so good. Hmmmm. Anything else? I don't think so. Bake! When I start blogging regularly, again ha! I am gonna do your thirty days thing k? I was gonna say something else but I forgot. Guess I'll get off of here. Oh I totally remember. I still need my jerk book! Pronto! I'm out. Tweace(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1735290076492235864?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1735290076492235864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1735290076492235864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-have-no-time-to-do-anything.html' title='I Need A Life'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4317128194273672501</id><published>2011-03-08T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T12:34:15.126-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, Hello Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;holy cow i suck! for legit sure i suck. i dont have a whole ton of time to even write today. why, because i suck. i get it. over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;it has seriously been like a month since i have been on this sucker. so sorry i dont have any new sunday secrets. but here are some things i have to tell you really fast so that you know a little bit about whats going on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Hartley and i still hang out. and watch glee. but we dont kiss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend somtimes tries to kiss me at work. which i am okay with. but he is still a douche and only wants a piece. which i am also okay with. he just needs to tell me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Z is the new boy at the moment. i dont know how long this one is going to last. i hate when girls are like "he's different." ten bucks says he isnt, but i am still going to say it. he's different. just a little bit but only when it counts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also! freaking finally! i am moving out the beginning of next month! hell yes! i love it! i will post pictures when i'm done. its sick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;and. i am still a horrible missionary girlfriend. but i still love him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i still work 2 jobs. like every day. its a freaking christmas miracle i have found time to do anything else.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhmmm i think thats about it. there. now you are all caught up on my life. sort of(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ahhh i miss writing. i should go back to my fourteen year old journal and then just type what i write.... thats a good idea. i miss you guys(: i'm still here, i swear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4317128194273672501?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4317128194273672501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4317128194273672501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/03/well-hello-again.html' title='Well, Hello Again'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5138081010999828163</id><published>2011-02-19T23:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T00:24:00.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh. I Hate These Games.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Pfft. Alright. So once again, I use my powers to gather information from people to benefit myself. And I would just like you to know that I am not very happy with the information received. So as it turns out, Hartley told someone that he doesn't think it's a good idea that he hangs out with me because he is afraid that if he does, he won't get out there on his mission. Why does this always happen to me? Nothing happened. At. All. Ever. But apparently it's freaking impossible for any guy to have control of his junk. Its always my fault. So the feeling of I am good enough to hook up with, just not good enough to actually be with is back. And I totally get that he doesn't even want a relationship because he is leaving. But the point is that we can still be friends, we can still hang out... Right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5138081010999828163?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5138081010999828163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5138081010999828163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/ugh-i-hate-these-games.html' title='Ugh. I Hate These Games.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7464532330268343496</id><published>2011-02-17T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T15:56:03.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ohh And Ashton, Too.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;holy ashton kutcher is so hot. braden, bake, and myself went to see no strings attached. yes, i most definitely recommend that one. mostly because you see ashton naked(: seriously, i thought me and bake were going to die we were so happy. also, we are putting in a request to see ashton in either more baby blue sweaters, or naked(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7464532330268343496?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7464532330268343496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7464532330268343496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/ohh-and-ashton-too.html' title='Ohh And Ashton, Too.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4942364808940444800</id><published>2011-02-17T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T15:51:52.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missionary, Boyfriend, Beezy, And Hartley.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;holy land. okay first things first. happy freaking one year to me! hahahaha. Missionary has been out a year. only one more to go! freak yes!!(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;thats pretty much the only significant thing i am going to write today. so last night, Boyfriend decides he wants to text me at like midnight to have me come over to watch grown ups. which, by the way, is stupid. i dont recommend it. anyways. so i am like "boyfriend, i am in bed. and i look like crap. and i'm tired."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend: come see me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;me: youre at cams. i dont even know where cams house is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend: i'll tell you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;me: fine.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend: gosh! you dont have to!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;me: well i'm already out of bed. i'll find it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;on my way to find Boyfriend, i run out of gas!! hahahahahaha. so now i'm stranded. i'm not about to call Boyfriend and have him come save me. thats a terrible idea. so i call my best friend Beezy(: and he totally came to my rescue! chyeah! oh my gosh i suck so much. i seriously amaze myself at how stupid i am. this is, no joke, the 8th time i have run out of gas and been stranded. i'm an idiot. i get it. so then i text boyfriend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;me: i lied. i dont even know where i am going (which was totally true). lets just play another day(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend: fine. (Boyfriend is sometimes like a girl, so fine is not really fine)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;me: are you mad?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend: a little&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;me: uhm why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Boyfriend: because i want to kiss you!(: (the smiley face is true)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;well suck. i'm stranded. and i get no love. this. is. stupid. fml.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;whats stupid about the whole thing is that i actually pulled myself out of bed so that he can hit it and quit it. and thats definitely not what i want. so then when Hartley text me this morning, i felt a whole lot better. its a good thing i only have to do this for one more year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4942364808940444800?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4942364808940444800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4942364808940444800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/missionary-boyfriend-beezy-and-hartley.html' title='Missionary, Boyfriend, Beezy, And Hartley.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2367315183104749628</id><published>2011-02-14T15:49:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T15:52:25.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Seriously Hate Valentine's Day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i hate valentines day. its stupid. i wrote about it last year so i am not going to write about it again. you can file through my old posts to find it. this year especially sucks because Missionary is gone and even though i think its dumb to give me things on one specified day, i still like getting things. duhh. who doesnt? anyways. so like work sucked because men procrastinate. and women are buying red and black lingerie for their sexcapades. and i have to tell you. if you havent already figured it out, i have an inflated ego. based on like nothing. actually, thats not true, i know i get a lot of attention. but i am  extremely average. my vanity is based on my own  shallow thoughts. but i am convinced every guy that looks at me, is giving me a rating. i get bored easily at work, so i create fantasies in my head to dull the repetitiveness of work. also, i am pretty sure my mental health is not at its peak. but mostly i’m almost positive they’re hitting on me. so today on this wonderful day of valentine, this duo of guys comes through my line and one of them needed chapstick so the other one went to go get for him and he took like 3 years so i started to ring the guy behind them up. so that guy was buying all this stuff and bought finding nemo and i was like "oh my gosh, i love finding nemo so much! i would watch that over almost everything else." meantime, the one guy comes back with the chapstick and the two of them start laughing at my comment that i love nemo. so i finish the guys transaction and start with the other two again. they buy their socks, chapstick and scooby doo fruit snacks. then the one that didnt go get the chapstick hands me the fruit snacks and was like "i know its not nemo, but i hope you have a great valentine's day." uhmmm i think this just reassures me that every guy indeed is hitting on me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;thanks to the guy who gave me a valentine(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2367315183104749628?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2367315183104749628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2367315183104749628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-hate-valentines-day.html' title='I Seriously Hate Valentine&apos;s Day.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8378920720098935043</id><published>2011-02-13T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T19:40:03.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #27</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AIhopsMToko/TViV_0lswvI/AAAAAAAAAoI/pi3qwvsLFHs/s1600/tumblr_kxsva8Ne191qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="218" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AIhopsMToko/TViV_0lswvI/AAAAAAAAAoI/pi3qwvsLFHs/s320/tumblr_kxsva8Ne191qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8378920720098935043?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8378920720098935043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8378920720098935043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/post-secret-27.html' title='Post Secret #27'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AIhopsMToko/TViV_0lswvI/AAAAAAAAAoI/pi3qwvsLFHs/s72-c/tumblr_kxsva8Ne191qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-406479605787394589</id><published>2011-02-12T19:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T19:36:29.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FML. Not Really, But A Little Bit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;okay. since i have no computer access, still, this is a compilation of stupid ish that has been bothering me over the past week. so instead of getting your daily dosage of my negativity, you get it all at once. ready? here we go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;utah jazz! mother flip! what the hell. first of all, i was highly disappointed in the game against the bulls. uhm what the scum d will? way to show up to play. douche. all that really matters, because he really should be the star, is my husband, paul millsap. i love him so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDH7u3ip2O4/TVc9yK_CAHI/AAAAAAAAAn8/iIrgYZDxHF8/s1600/hubbs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="221" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDH7u3ip2O4/TVc9yK_CAHI/AAAAAAAAAn8/iIrgYZDxHF8/s320/hubbs.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;good game baby(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;okay so we lose. whatever. i'm over it. i have to be since i lost my voice and there is no use in yelling anymore. then! jerry up and quits. and so does phil. this = mixed emotions. you dont leave in the middle of a season! crum! way to be a baby d. you bug sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1M5-obYM0m4/TVc_RWHAhWI/AAAAAAAAAoA/3eXJthQrbT8/s1600/sloan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="210" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1M5-obYM0m4/TVc_RWHAhWI/AAAAAAAAAoA/3eXJthQrbT8/s320/sloan.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;and then! we lost to the suns! which, ya know, no big. i like the suns. second to my jazz(: but still. steve nash is a beast!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JEeKuhErjgE/TVdABqMCi5I/AAAAAAAAAoE/V-GLyuj83r8/s1600/98046132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JEeKuhErjgE/TVdABqMCi5I/AAAAAAAAAoE/V-GLyuj83r8/s320/98046132.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;see my hubby(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;okay! back on track after the jazz. uhm so then. i run into Ex-Squeeze. like really? i dont get it. hahaha. i understand that i live close to where he works, we go to the same places, see the same people. but still. i remember when we were getting ready to go to school and we just happened to show up at the same campus and i was walking around the corner and ran into him. and he got the biggest smile on his face and told me that it was such a good feeling to turn the corner and see my face. and now, its like we turn the corner and we dont know how to be.... what do we do? anyways. after our &lt;i&gt;minor&lt;/i&gt; encounter, i drove off in my car. and cried. a lot. what is wrong with me? he is &lt;b&gt;married. &lt;/b&gt;like... ugh! stupid stupid stupid. in case you didnt know, retail therapy is the best kind of therapy there is. and no one knows how to blow through 400 hundred dollars quite like myself(: and now i feel better. kind of.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://britnybaker.blogspot.com/" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px;" target="_self"&gt;bake!&lt;/a&gt; i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; love you!(: you know, i would luhhv it if Boyfriend wanted to marry me. but Boyfriend doesnt even want a relationship apparently. i dont know what he wants. why are boys so stupid? why am i so stupid for caring. if you havent noticed Missionary's countdown, take a look. almost less than a year. that year better hurry the heck up. because i am becoming very impatient.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also. Hartley, it would be excellent if we could play soon. k? thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-406479605787394589?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/406479605787394589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/406479605787394589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/fml-not-really-but-little-bit.html' title='FML. Not Really, But A Little Bit.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDH7u3ip2O4/TVc9yK_CAHI/AAAAAAAAAn8/iIrgYZDxHF8/s72-c/hubbs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5996111053921992823</id><published>2011-02-06T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T19:46:31.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #26</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TU9dAVlGSbI/AAAAAAAAAnY/a70zw8Zte4E/s1600/tumblr_l2kuj448K31qzcpcqo1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TU9dAVlGSbI/AAAAAAAAAnY/a70zw8Zte4E/s320/tumblr_l2kuj448K31qzcpcqo1_400.jpg" width="211" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5996111053921992823?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5996111053921992823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5996111053921992823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/post-secret-26.html' title='Post Secret #26'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TU9dAVlGSbI/AAAAAAAAAnY/a70zw8Zte4E/s72-c/tumblr_l2kuj448K31qzcpcqo1_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7483043730268019422</id><published>2011-02-03T12:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T13:35:00.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Could Have Had It All...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so i still dont exactly know whats wrong with me but i also just decided, or came to the realization, that i dont know what love is. i dont.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i mean, lets recap the only two relationships i have had. Missionary and Ex-Squeeze. so i waited for missionary to break up with his absolutely awful girlfriend. and then he finally did because he figured out what a slutskankwhore she is. beside the point. anyways. so then we get together. happy freaking day. and our relationship was fine. is fine? we fight. over stupid things. we go out. we get down. we talk all day everyday. normal right? and then he goes on a mission. thats fine. whatever.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;while i was waiting for Missionary to pull his head out of the sand, Ex-Squeeze comes into the picture. just a little asterick, random note, i got with both of these boys because i had seminary with them! haha(: anyways. so Ex-Squeeze and i have our thing going my sophomore year. and we were never official. but it was the same rounds as Missionary. before they happened with him obviously. we talk. we kiss. we laugh. we fight. and then he leaves on a mission. Ex-Squeeze and i never said the "L" word before he left. he left mad at me. and we didnt talk his whole mission. so fast forward two years. Missionary leaves and Ex-Squeeze comes home. 10 days after Missionary left, Ex-Squeeze makes his appearance, and 10 days after that, bam! we're getting married. do you get engaged to the person you promised you wouldnt if you loved the first person? not only that, how do you know that you love the second one after 3 weeks?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;now, having said that... i dont know why i feel like after 4 days of being with Hartley, i feel like i need to tell him i love him. that makes no sense. i dont love him. i love the way he makes me feel. i think i just loved the way the other two made me feel as well. in all honesty, i knew Ex-Squeeze and i were never going to get married. it wasnt... real. it didnt even feel real. and same with Missionary. i dont know what i feel towards him. i know that our relationship was more real that mine with Ex-Squeeze. but that doesnt necessarily mean that i love him, right? i also think that if i am having doubts about it, its not real. because i feel like if you really love someone, you'll know. and you wont doubt. you dont even have to be 100 percent sure that it could be whoever youre with, just dont doubt it. maybe that contradictory but it makes sense in my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Hartley says that "something is different with me." that he "cant quite place it, but its the best feeling in a long time."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;and he's leaving me. scum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7483043730268019422?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7483043730268019422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7483043730268019422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-i-still-dont-exactly-know-whats.html' title='We Could Have Had It All...'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8363822585630557947</id><published>2011-02-02T19:28:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T19:40:11.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Also, I Just Decided...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;that i miss brayden.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;like a lot...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;what the crap is wrong with me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;lip piercing friday(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8363822585630557947?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8363822585630557947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8363822585630557947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/also-i-just-decided.html' title='Also, I Just Decided...'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3229413148902615138</id><published>2011-02-02T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T16:23:11.318-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whooop! I'm So Happy Right Now.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;hahahahahaha. i love my life. the other day. i totally made out with hartley. do you know how long i have waited to do that? like 4 and a half years. no joke. oh my gosh i was happy. so thats the good news. you already know the bad news. he is going on a mission. mother flip. not cool. i feel like i wait for a really long time for the best things to happen. and then they are taken away from me. i dont know. i am definitely feeling a little bit sorry for myself but ya know. whatever. i'm over it. i guess we will just have fun while it lasts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also. Boyfriend decides he wants to stop being a douche and talk to me. i dont know what to do! i hate not being in control over the situation. stupid.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ohh! and! i hate girls. mostly julianne. because she is a bword.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3229413148902615138?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3229413148902615138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3229413148902615138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/02/whooop-im-so-happy-right-now.html' title='Whooop! I&apos;m So Happy Right Now.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2551009935480664035</id><published>2011-01-31T16:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T16:03:10.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Super Random, Pointless Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i hate not having computer access all the time. can i just say? i dont like that i cant get on here and write my feelings away. it bothers me. so i have to admit that&amp;nbsp; i have resorted to writing what is going on in a journal type thing. i dont know. ha. which definitely is not as legit as a blog. i feel like a fourteen year old. its stupid. i'm not very happy about it. also, when i write ish down, i write in like my own language. that somehow manage to forget the next time i try to read what i wrote. i'm like uhmm what the hell am i speaking? ha. anyways!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;its like february. almost. tomorrow. and i didnt write very much this month. thats lame. but! february means exciting things. for me. ha! like tomorrow will have been a year since i stared this sucker! chyeah! and then the 6th is the superbowl. which is not the greatest of events but it will still pose parties! the 9th is the jazz/bulls game! 14th is Little Sister's birrrrrfday. and valentines day. stupid. the 17th!!!!!! oh my gosh. best day of this year. Missionary's year mark. holy hell. its taken long enough. ready to do this one more time? neither am i(: and then the 27th will have been a year since Ex-Squeeze and i got together. weird. its kind of stupid that i remember crap like that. his little brother leaves for the mtc on wednesday. i miss sethypoo.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so the other day i was watching teen mom dos. what a joke. can i just say. i'm with kim k on this one. but so this kailin? i think thats what her name is. shes living with her ex boyfriend jonathan. but then she gets in a relationship with this jordan tool. so then she is talking to her friends and she's all "i'm so immature blah blah blah" not really. she said that she didnt know how to tell jonathan that she was with jordan and her horrendous friends are like "just change your relationship status." uhm what the scum? are you kidding me?&amp;nbsp; idiot! thats honestly how youre going to handle this situation? youre so retarded! like it really made me mad. so then! shes talking to her current bf and is asking him if it is weird that she has a baby. and obviously he said no. but i was just thinking about it. and like i think that a lot of people would be more okay with dating people that have kids if both parents were mature enough to handle that kind of situation. i dont know. maybe not. its not a deal breaker for me. Boyfriend has Baby, yeah? i dont care. Baby is so cute. but Baby's mom like hates me. and thats okay. i get it. its just way more drama than its worth. not only that. Boyfriend is being a douche. so. i quit. tweace out. ugh he makes me mad. i need my jerk book. pronto. oh. speaking of books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i am a huuuuuge book worm. huge. seriously, if i have the day off and a book, i wont see you till the next day. its a problem sometimes. so i read all three Hunger Games books: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay. all excellent. if you havent read them, get on it. theyre super amazing. but also a tad bit depressing.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i was going to write about something else and now i dont remember... this post is like a thousand times longer than it needs to be. its just making up for all the times i didnt write. sorry guys. when well. anywhoozer. if any of you live in utah, you know how nasty our air has been lately. disgusting! its grody. i need it to be summer. i already got my swimming suit. both of them(: theyre cute. i need to go to the gym to tone up. my stomach is sick. shaving in the summer is a pain! oh my gosh. what a joke. i hate shaving. so i dont. gross i know. but so during the winter you shave and then the hair like immediately starts to grow back with the goosebumps because its like three degrees outside. so i did some investing. in wax. worst investment ever. A. it hurts like a mother. 2. i still had to shave after like 2 weeks. not cool. i hate being mexican for that reason. we're just hairy. i need like laser hair removal. good thing t is going to be rich. which, ya know, he really doesnt care. or maybe is does and is just lying... he is probably lying. whatever. i'm comfortable with my body. lets talk a little but about it. i have a mini happy trail. i cant help it. well, i can. but it almost looks worse when i shave it off. nast, i know. but i just deal. toph just laughs and says my mexican is showing. i'm over it. ha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2551009935480664035?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2551009935480664035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2551009935480664035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/super-random-pointless-post.html' title='A Super Random, Pointless Post'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7815199524973455730</id><published>2011-01-30T15:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T15:03:09.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #25</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TUXgGHasf6I/AAAAAAAAAlY/xm8VOhKJF_M/s1600/tumblr_kr0jni5SVP1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TUXgGHasf6I/AAAAAAAAAlY/xm8VOhKJF_M/s320/tumblr_kr0jni5SVP1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7815199524973455730?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7815199524973455730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7815199524973455730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/post-secret-25.html' title='Post Secret #25'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TUXgGHasf6I/AAAAAAAAAlY/xm8VOhKJF_M/s72-c/tumblr_kr0jni5SVP1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3736532752272319869</id><published>2011-01-24T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T15:41:03.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Mondays. Because He Loves Me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; "Hey baby I was just thinking I know you are working hard and have to  pay for stuff a lot and everything and it can be hard so if you ever  need anything let me know because I have my savings that could help if  you just used it wisely. I wouldnt have a problem with that sweetie. I  mean if you think about it we are going to be together anyways so theres  no drama."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;he loves me wayyyy more than i deserve... but i love him back. so its okay. right?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3736532752272319869?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3736532752272319869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3736532752272319869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-love-mondays-because-he-loves-me.html' title='I Love Mondays. Because He Loves Me.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8928225136975838039</id><published>2011-01-23T18:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T18:22:22.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #24</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TTzUR1qHDnI/AAAAAAAAAk0/Kr32G-ZldH8/s1600/tumblr_l2wdgqLjIt1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TTzUR1qHDnI/AAAAAAAAAk0/Kr32G-ZldH8/s320/tumblr_l2wdgqLjIt1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8928225136975838039?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8928225136975838039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8928225136975838039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/post-secret-24.html' title='Post Secret #24'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TTzUR1qHDnI/AAAAAAAAAk0/Kr32G-ZldH8/s72-c/tumblr_l2wdgqLjIt1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3752093022230016215</id><published>2011-01-21T22:05:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T22:13:28.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Suck At Following Through On My Resolutions.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so like, normally, i am the type of person who goes after what i want. whether that be with school or boys or jobs or whatever. anything. normally, i dont let a whole lot get in my way of what i am after. however. if i feel like i cant reach or obtain what i am going for, i stop. or sometimes, i wont even start. right now, you guessed it, i am referring to boys. because honestly, when am i not. anyways. i was really- time out. actually, nevermind. time in. so i liked this kid i had math with. he as super cute. and a total sweetheart. and probably a really good kisser. but i'll definitely never find that out ha! i was playing the delete game in my phone and when his name popped up i was like immediately bothered that i let something as stupid as math get in the way of me pursuing him. because yes, i am normally the one pursuing. i was honestly terrified that he would judge me based on the fact that i was retarded in that subject. so i stopped talking to him. dumb. ugh! i could kick myself for it. and i'm scared to even attempt to try to talk to him again. i dont know why.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also. seriously. i have a thing for missionaries. i just... attract them. like a freaking magnet. so ya know, since i am going after what i want, i was like hmmmm Hartley. (: good freaking times. guess what. 23 year old Hartley up and decides that the good Lord needs him and is going to go on a mish. are you kidding me? i cant handle this. Hartley is beautiful. i am just going to throw that out there. probably one of the prettiest people i have seen in my life. oh my gosh. yes, guys can be pretty(: but now he is leaving me. great. but i still have Boyfriend here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so. remember that one time i said i was going to play it cool and not lose my head until everything was mutual? uhmm yeah, i lost it before i even realized it was gone. Boyfriend is driving me crazy because i dont know what the hell is going on with him! like last week, he called me and was like "hey Girlyfriend. lets hang out." anddd then i never got another call. wth? really? so i was like meh. whatever. he probably has Baby. but then today when i walk into work, he gave me this huge bear hug and goes "Girlyfriend. you look cute today. i miss you. can we please play tomorrow night after Baby goes to sleep?" OF COURSE! please just follow through. i will be really mad if i dont get to see him tomorrow. hmmph. i dont get it.&amp;nbsp; my problem is that for the most part, i get what i want. but i dont necessarily get to keep it. like Missionary. who abandoned me for two years(; and then Ex-Squeeze. he married byu. who, by the way, decided she wanted to fight crime before the wedding and forgot to take her cape off... no joke. the girl wore a superhero cape to the wedding. idiot. yeah, i'm a hater. i get it. get over it. anyways. and now with Boyfriend, i just am confused. my new years resolution was to learn how to "just be." uhmm not doing so hot on that. so wish me luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;and. one last thing. sorry this post is forever long. i feel like i dont have a whole lot to talk to Missionary about anymore. is that bad? or like, normal? there is only so much to do here and i know that he is going out and doing the same thing day in and day out so its like, "ohh hey, same ish different day, i love you. blah blah" its pretty much the same conversation every week. he told me once that the hardest time frame girls have with "waiting" is 9 to 14 months. and now i get it. hahaha. ohhh man. he just needs to get home....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3752093022230016215?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3752093022230016215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3752093022230016215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/so-like-normally-i-am-type-of-person.html' title='I Suck At Following Through On My Resolutions.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5163385003109019868</id><published>2011-01-19T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T22:51:08.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have A Problem... Ha!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i hate facebook. hence the reason i dont have one. its drama. its stupid. its very.... high school. every idiot from high school is like "heyy, i'm still here! remember me?" no. i dont want to see you in real life so why would i friend you in the virtual one? go away. anyways. so since i dont have anyone to facebook stalk, i blogstalk. its a problem. yes, i am a creep. if you put things out in the open, i'm going to take a peek inside. sorry. thats just how it is. so as i am blogstalking, i find some people that i went to high school with also have a blog. some of them, i really enjoy reading. some of them i wish i was better friends with a few years ago. but then there are still those people, mostly girls, who just irk me. anything and everything they do just botheres me. and when i read what they have to say, i remember why i hated them in high school. i remember why i spent all my time with toph and why i didnt have the biggest social life. people seriously bother me. and dont get me wrong, i understand that people might have the same ish to say about me. but thats really okay, because if you dont like me, i probably already hate you back. no worries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also! i totally dont have my jerk book yet. i am poor. it happens. so i have to go to the library to get books for free. anyways. i finally read the first book of the hunger games. holy land. such a good read. i am really excited for the next two. i miss reading. i miss being a book worm. i miss t and how we would read books and then have huge discussions about them. i know, we're losers that way. i just miss him. you know how certain smells or songs or places just trigger a specific emotion? and you either despise that feeling, or want to feel like that all the time? if i listen to anything drake, i automatically think vegas and how i didnt have a care in the world. i want to feel like that all the time. i just dont know how to get to that feeling again... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5163385003109019868?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5163385003109019868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5163385003109019868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-have-problem-ha.html' title='I Have A Problem... Ha!'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1472367953566859371</id><published>2011-01-17T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T14:03:30.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need To Work On My Patience.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;this "waiting" thing... i hate it. i really do. i hate waiting for an email. i hate waiting for an actual letter. i hate waiting for him to come home. but the second i get what i am waiting for, my mood totally changes and i am the happiest person in the world. at least for a second. time, please go faster...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1472367953566859371?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1472367953566859371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1472367953566859371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-need-to-work-on-my-patience.html' title='I Need To Work On My Patience.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1374886592182362356</id><published>2011-01-16T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T16:30:52.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Practice Safe Breath.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;guess what epic event happens next month? well, dos events. A. in a month from tomorrow, i have one more year until Missionary is on his way home. holy hallelujah. 2. it marks a year since i have had this bad mother of a blog. i plan on making both a big freaking deal. i am going to throw a party. also, in blog related news. i cant help but think this years blog probably wont be as good as last years. although, i sure hope it wont be as desperate and pitiful. man i sucked at life. anyways. i also dont have computer access 24/7. soooo thats a problem. but uhm this may also be the last year i write on this. because when t gets home... we may or may not end up in a real relationship. not this stupid virtual one we have to be in now. and we dont have secrets in real life relationships. we just dont. although its pretty sneaky and shady to keep this going since he isnt actually here, i also sort of feel like its one of those things thats going to do more harm than good. but then maybe if he reads this he will understand everything a whole lot better than he does that. and he will most likely come to the conclusion that i am crazy. and thats fine(: meh. i'll cross that bridge when we get to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also. super random. but i just remembered. dentyne has this new gum out and its delicious. i love it. so they have this commercial for it, right? and the commercial informs me that the average person has 28 first kisses... i have had 18. haha. which is really kind of a whole lot more than i thought it was going to be when i made my list. the average marriage age in america is around 27 for men and 26 for women. in utah, groom: 23 bride: 21. who would have thunk. i have to kiss ten more people in two years. well, a year(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1374886592182362356?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1374886592182362356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1374886592182362356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-practice-safe-breath.html' title='I Practice Safe Breath.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1904961991959287686</id><published>2011-01-16T16:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T16:16:12.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #23</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TTN8Nl6QgaI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MvNY4XvIsCM/s1600/tumblr_lert94DWLs1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="201" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TTN8Nl6QgaI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MvNY4XvIsCM/s320/tumblr_lert94DWLs1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1904961991959287686?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1904961991959287686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1904961991959287686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/post-secret-23.html' title='Post Secret #23'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TTN8Nl6QgaI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/MvNY4XvIsCM/s72-c/tumblr_lert94DWLs1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4596928815673566724</id><published>2011-01-14T17:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T17:35:36.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You All Knew This Post Was Going To Happen...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;but i am okay. my mom text me today while i was at work and was like "hey, how are you doing? okay?" it took me a second to figure out what the hell she was talking about. and then i got it. Ex-Squeeze is officially married. and its so weird. like i dont think i have fully wrapped my head around it yet. and even though tomorrow will have marked two months since we have actually held a real conversation, its strange. i dont even know how to feel. maybe this is the real feeling of indifference... whatever the feeling, i know that i am happy for him. i know that byu adores him and that he loves her back. i think that its going to be a hard marriage. but we will let him figure that out. i was going to go to the reception. but i think i changed my mind. there isnt a point in opening a wound that is so close to being healed. i know that when Missionary gets home, Ex-Squeeze wont even enter my mind. that is, until t brings him up. haha. i know that i have been so unfair to him. and that most of you who have kept up on this drama think i am the queen bword of a missionary girlfriend. its okay, i deserve all the hate. but i do love him. i love them both. anyways. just thought i would share with you all that i am just fine(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;congrats trav. best of luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4596928815673566724?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4596928815673566724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4596928815673566724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-all-knew-this-post-was-going-to.html' title='You All Knew This Post Was Going To Happen...'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3070108660869851619</id><published>2011-01-09T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T15:13:57.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #22</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSozGTcE39I/AAAAAAAAAkM/vYLKwjSLnO8/s1600/tumblr_kw5liu7zUs1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="218" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSozGTcE39I/AAAAAAAAAkM/vYLKwjSLnO8/s320/tumblr_kw5liu7zUs1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3070108660869851619?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3070108660869851619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3070108660869851619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/post-secret-22_09.html' title='Post Secret #22'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSozGTcE39I/AAAAAAAAAkM/vYLKwjSLnO8/s72-c/tumblr_kw5liu7zUs1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7702455445911860595</id><published>2011-01-08T14:24:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T22:53:31.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ohh, Ya Know. Another One Of Those Moods.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;sometimes its really hard to get out what i'm thinking or feeling because i know the people that read this and if i happen to say something less than amazing about them, then i risk hurting them or making them mad. so then its like this internal battle. do i just write it and get it out and risk them flipping a holy biscuit over it? or do i keep it in because i dont like hurting the people i care about? sometimes i just dont know what the right answer is. so i guess i will just say this: i love my mother to death. i really do. but she drives me up a motherflipping wall. i can say that because she already knows that she does.&lt;br /&gt;have you ever felt like your entire life has just been like a constant series of disappointments? its like something big happens and everyone is all "ohh, dont even fret, in a few weeks slash months slash years it will all get better" or "dont worry, after this happens, everything will be alright" or the most frustrating "dont worry, in a few years you'll look back and laugh". i dont want to have to wait years to have things get better. years is a really long time. i need instant gratification here. i mean i get that some things are definitely going to take years to be better. like my parents. thats not going to get better in a few weeks. or even a few months for that matter. also, i am pretty sure the things that are devastating my life arent things i am going to eventually laugh at. i'm just not. anyways so, people tell you those things and at first youre like "ya know what? youre right. it will all be okay." and then just as things are settling down, bam mofo! youre hit with something else, and the whole scenario starts over again. and after a while, its very frustrating and depressing to feel like that no matter how many hurdles you jump over, youre going to run straight into another one. i mean lets get religious here. i know that God isnt going to give me anything that i cant handle, but i just wish that He would let me get back up on my feet before making me jump through hoops again.&lt;br /&gt;right now i'm just so sick of everything. i'm frustrated with having to dissect every single text from my dad, and constantly worrying that something is up that i'm not being told about. i'm sick of ish in my life breaking, and i'm sick of always having to spend massive amounts of money that i dont have. i'm tired of being told how to live my life and having decisions made for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i used to think that having Missionary home would make things like exponentially better. and they might. but even this sort of long distance relationship that we have is hard, hard work. granted, its gone by faster than i anticipated. but fights last like 4 months. i'm constantly worried about what he is going to say when he gets home about what i have done while he was gone. and not even the dating aspect of it. the part where i was supposed to go to school and work my butt off. and here i am, not in school. blogging. i feel like when he gets home its going to be added stress to my life because i feel like i am going to have to work harder than i actually want to so that i dont let him down. i dont know. blah. i love him to death. and i miss him more than normal right now. like i almost feel sick i miss him so much. i really need that book. not that Missionary is a jerk, it will just help me put my whole relationship into perspective and what i need to do to make things better for both of us. at least i hope so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;speaking of jerks, hahaha. i miss Ex-Squeeze. its super weird that he is getting married next week. i'm over the situation. i'm over everything that happened. i realize that i was super desperate and just needed someone to fill the void with Missionary. i love Ex-Squeeze very, very much. but its &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;a different kind of love now... i dont know. its &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;still odd that he is getting married to someone that is not me... to someone that is not him... i dont think that he has changed in 3 months. i just dont. because he had a whole 2 years to change who he was and he didnt do that either. i kind of wish that things ended on better terms but then again, its probably a good thing they ended how they did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7702455445911860595?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7702455445911860595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7702455445911860595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/ohh-ya-know-another-one-of-those-moods.html' title='Ohh, Ya Know. Another One Of Those Moods.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5666221279225561616</id><published>2011-01-06T14:29:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T14:31:23.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay For Teachers Who Still Teach Me After I've Graduated.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;alright friends. so as it turns out, i dont know everything. close though. i'm having some help learning more things so i can share my knowledge with you. i had this teacher in high school. one of my fave's. top three for sure. and since i was at the high school i barely graduated from, i figured that i should stop by and see how she was doing. unfortunately, she wasnt doing so hot. and she told me that she had a blog that i should check out. i think that maybe you guys would like it. its &lt;a href="http://literaryjourney.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://literaryjourney.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;. hopefully, she wont get mad that i am sending all of you there. i dont think she will. even though she isnt my teacher in a classroom setting anymore, she is still teaching me. and i love that about her. i have to buy this book:&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;How to Avoid Fallilng in Love With a Jerk: The Foolproof Way to Follow Your Heart Without Losing Your Mind.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;where the hell was that book a year ago? anyways, i found it now. and i am going to go over every chapter here on my blog. and you know what that means. we are going to talk more about Missionary and Ex-Squeeze. possibly Boyfriend. i know you love these stories.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5666221279225561616?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5666221279225561616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5666221279225561616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/yay-for-teachers-who-still-teach-me.html' title='Yay For Teachers Who Still Teach Me After I&apos;ve Graduated.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1165255584918728491</id><published>2011-01-03T15:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T16:40:32.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoop! I Still Have Him.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so like even though i am a bword and the worst person alive for what i did to Missionary, i still love him. and for some reason, he loves me back. he just gets me. i think thats why we work out so well. he knows me better than i know myself so he is completely understanding when i flip a holy biscuit over nothing. i love you t. more than you know. sorry i almost got married and ruined our plans. but everything is better now(: we are almost halfway there(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSJRbom0LSI/AAAAAAAAAjU/VLUHvHu2gS0/s1600/jm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSJRbom0LSI/AAAAAAAAAjU/VLUHvHu2gS0/s320/jm.jpg" width="245" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1165255584918728491?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1165255584918728491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1165255584918728491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/whoop-i-still-have-him.html' title='Whoop! I Still Have Him.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSJRbom0LSI/AAAAAAAAAjU/VLUHvHu2gS0/s72-c/jm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9101024610649645443</id><published>2011-01-02T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T15:32:14.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #21</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSJOTt3jOzI/AAAAAAAAAi8/hUzVgoFdr9k/s1600/tellusyourthoughts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="188" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSJOTt3jOzI/AAAAAAAAAi8/hUzVgoFdr9k/s320/tellusyourthoughts.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9101024610649645443?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9101024610649645443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9101024610649645443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/post-secret-22.html' title='Post Secret #21'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TSJOTt3jOzI/AAAAAAAAAi8/hUzVgoFdr9k/s72-c/tellusyourthoughts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5442526272305983531</id><published>2011-01-01T01:00:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T19:24:44.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Land. It's A New Year.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Freaking crazy. New years is almost depressing. Like the year is over. You have to start all over again. Some people think it's a good thing, they get to start fresh. As much as I would like to have a fresh start, I don't know how to make one for myself. I still have to go to the same job and interface with the same people. I really don't mean to be negative. My point is that just because it's a new year doesn't mean that you're a new person or that you're all the sudden going to start living a new life style. I guess you just have to try to make the best out of old situations and look at things from a new view point. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;So since I have never been one for a huge new years party, I just hung out with beezy. We went to a way fun party. However. Scott and Kim showed up. Missionary's brother and sister in law... Uhm of all people, I thought Scott and I had an okay relationship but apparently not because that situation could not have been more awkward. Like neither one of them acknowledged me. I don't know. I dont know what to to about it. It just makes me mad that he doesn't trust me. And granted, I have definitely done some things to break that trust but he doesn't know about half of what's going on. He doesn't need to. I have been honest with him when he asks me questions but blah. It is what it is. Maybe not having to worry about things like that this year will make things a lot easier in the end...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Also. Boyfriend is kinda going back to normal. But I still dont know exactly what's going on and it's maddening. I just need to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;News years resolution: learn how to just be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5442526272305983531?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5442526272305983531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5442526272305983531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2011/01/holy-land-its-new-year.html' title='Holy Land. It&apos;s A New Year.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2406000780187701286</id><published>2010-12-29T15:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T15:16:55.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ashlee And Carson Sitting On Swing.</title><content type='html'>he's my other best friend. in a completely non-romantic way whatsoever. haha i'm serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TRuzTZgzc7I/AAAAAAAAAi4/0h7E7s8qx_M/s1600/carson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TRuzTZgzc7I/AAAAAAAAAi4/0h7E7s8qx_M/s320/carson.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2406000780187701286?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2406000780187701286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2406000780187701286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/ashlee-and-carson-sitting-on-swing.html' title='Ashlee And Carson Sitting On Swing.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TRuzTZgzc7I/AAAAAAAAAi4/0h7E7s8qx_M/s72-c/carson.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9110502809000908695</id><published>2010-12-27T15:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T15:51:54.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Did Not Sign Up For This.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;alright guys. i may or may not start the new year without Missionary. even though i have reassured him countless times that jcall and i arent serious, that it is all just a joke, he still doesnt get it. and he is mad. so this is what i said to him:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;i hope i dont ruin anything. but i cant do this whole drama  thing anymore toph. youre right. its completely stupid. we have made it  almost a year. we are almost halfway there and i dont want it messed up  now. so i am just going to say this. i love you. i hope you know that i  love you more than anything. and i want to marry you when you get home. i  got your companions letter today ha and it made me cry. i think thats  what you want too. considering you invited him to our wedding. so if you  really want that, i need you to listen to me. and only me. because if  you let everyone else get in your head, we arent going to make it. also,  having said that, i think that you need to tell you family and whoever  else is feeding you this ish about the conversation that we had about me  dating while you  are gone. i know you dont need to be focused on things like this. and  thats why i havent told you the half about things that have been going  on as far as dating goes. and i know that sounds like i am hiding things  from you but thats not my intention. i just dont want to give you any  reason to worry or be mad at me. thats why i didnt tell you about Ex-Squeeze. and i'm sorry. i told you that i want to be honest with you. so  like i said before, if you have questions, ask. and i will tell you the  truth about that matter. right now. the truth is that i havent been  seeing anybody since him. so please just dont fret okay. i love you so  much and this is just like ugh. its making me sick. i just dont want to  have to worry about our relationship deteriorating because of outside  influences. i am sorry if i sound like a bword but its just something  that i felt i needed to tell you okay? please dont be mad. but i also  understand if you are.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;maybe i sound like a bitch. maybe i make no sense at all. but i cant even function normally at this point in my life. also, i deleted facebook. and i probably wont get back on until he gets home. if you want to know whats going on in my life, pick up the phone, or come here. you know i'll fill you in. but i am not going to sit back an twiddle my thumbs while he is gone. anyone that thinks i should, needs a motherflipping reality check. or they need to sit around for two years and do a whole lot of nothing and let me know how that goes.&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9110502809000908695?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9110502809000908695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9110502809000908695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-did-not-sign-up-for-this.html' title='I Did Not Sign Up For This.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-662697621957901011</id><published>2010-12-26T15:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T15:34:33.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #20</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TRkUa3mTp0I/AAAAAAAAAi0/H2heTiMmTBA/s1600/tumblr_ktqvlgGPIM1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="222" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TRkUa3mTp0I/AAAAAAAAAi0/H2heTiMmTBA/s320/tumblr_ktqvlgGPIM1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-662697621957901011?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/662697621957901011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/662697621957901011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/post-secret-20.html' title='Post Secret #20'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TRkUa3mTp0I/AAAAAAAAAi0/H2heTiMmTBA/s72-c/tumblr_ktqvlgGPIM1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7135281141923317159</id><published>2010-12-23T20:22:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T00:15:16.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everybody Dies, But Not Everybody Lives.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so it definitely does not feel like christmas is in two days. it just doesnt. haha. there is zero snow on the ground. now for some of you, you may be used to this. i am not. there has always been snow. santa doesnt come if it doesnt snow. okay, thats not true. but still. its weird. also, i havent listened to christmas music, i didnt do very much christmas shopping, i didnt go on a whole lot of cute christmas dates. this thing with my parents sucks but whatever, you get over it. however, i work two retail jobs where people are a-holes and that totally reminds me that tis the season indeed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;in case you were wondering, and i know you were, i was not an a-hole to Missionary's family. i took the high road and got the a christmas gift. i just figured that as long as Missionary can see that i put forth an effort to try to maintain some sort of relationship with them, then i think i will be okay. as long as he doesnt find out that i was engaged. hahah its so fun to say that. i dont know why. it just makes me laugh. anyways. i said this with Ex-Squeeze and the same is true with Missionary. i wasnt with these boys because other people told me i should be with them. or because i thought it would make me look good. i dont know what other stupid reasons people thought i was with them for. but i was with them because i love them. i am with them for me. because i feel better as a person when i am with them. i dont care what anyone else says. so, having said that. i dont care if Missionary's family wants to light me on fire and send me to hell. twice. i am not with him so that i can be a part of that family, i am with him because i want him and only him. kinda...(; ha! i am going to be the bigger person for the next 14 months and hopefully things will work out in my best interest(:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also! it is almost the end of the year. which means people are going to start making resolutions they have no intention of keeping past january. and its the same ish every year. like pick new ones. or ones you can obtain. i found that if you have a goal, you might not reach it. but if you  dont have one, then you are never disappointed. and can i just say, this is the one "resolution" that everyone says that kills me: "i am not going to take life for granted, i am going to live every day to the fullest." i dont mean to be a negative nancy and burst your happy little bubble, but no, youre not. like ugh. just be happy. dont be rude. say i love you and mean it. i think thats enough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so since i dont ever have any resolutions, i think that we should recap what has happened this year and what i learned. and although i feel that it has been quite the shitty  year, i will try to maintain as positive as possible. and i also realize that while i'm an open person, that doesn't  mean that i need slash want to air my or someone elses dirty laundry all  over the internet for friends, family, and random strangers to read.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;- i have met some amazing people this year, and all of them have had an immense  impact on my life. even though i still feel like they are completely immature, not every relationship has had a fairytale ending. but i'm thankful for having met these people, and how they completely rocked  my world in a life changing way.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;- i've learned that my actions and decisions have a massive impact on  those around me. even on people that i might not have realized would  be affected. you would think that this is a lesson that i would have  learned years and years ago. and maybe i did. but this year was an  eye opening reminder. that is for damn sure.  also i have come to the realization that just because i have the  potential to completely destroy someone's life, doesnt mean that i  should. i dont feel good about myself. i am learning to take the high  road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;- i've always known that i can't bear to hurt people that i love and care  about. even people that i dont necessarily have any feelings toward. i think most people are this way, and i think that for the most part, it  is an excellent quality to have. however, i learned the very hard way  that sometimes no matter how much you love slash care for someone, and  how hard it will be to do it, walking away is sometimes the best option. it  hurts you, and them, and its almost unbearable. but if the timing  isn't right, or you find that you arent being true to yourself, then  its just something that needs to be done.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;- i've learned that its not only completely okay to be me, but it's absolutely necessary. trying to be the person that someone else wants you to be is  not the path to happiness. because once you start acting like  yourself&amp;nbsp;they will think that you have changed, when really youre just  trying to be you.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;- i've also learned that i shouldn't be afraid of opening myself up to  someone, even if it means opening the doors to hurt and pain. this last  relationship really hurt me. i mean it absolutely destoyed me. and it took me thee longest time  to realize just how hurt i was, and to start dealing with it. it made me realize what fantastic relationships i had with other people, and that i shouldnt close them off.&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so all in all, its been an interesting year. a long, difficult,  amazing year. this time last year, if you would have told me the details  of my year to come, i would have laughed in your face at how ridiculous it all sounded. but it happened. and its still happening.  and i'm still here. moving along. blogging was probably the best idea ever. i get to say what i want when i want. which really is no different from real life. it just feels good to let it all out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7135281141923317159?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7135281141923317159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7135281141923317159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/so-it-definitely-does-not-feel-like.html' title='Everybody Dies, But Not Everybody Lives.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1073573997146497081</id><published>2010-12-19T22:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T23:04:37.009-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Since I Have No Life And Nothing Better To Do...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;it just occurred to me that my blog sucks unless i am talking about guys. now that i dont have like a steady guy in my life, i dont have drama. i mean its just the same stupid jealousies and insecurities that every starting relationship has.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; i dont have anything to write about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; i know you dont want to hear about my redundant day to day lifestyle. not that you wanted to hear about my redundant relationship with Ex-Squeeze. but still, you get it. however, speaking of him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;even though Ex-Squeeze is a freaking  douchelord and is getting married to some BYU girl, i seriously cannot  hate him. i cant. and i know that some people will never understand why i  love him still or why i still care so much. i wish i had an answer for  why. but i dont. fact of the matter is, i still love him. i dont hate  him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so here is some drama involving Missionary and my jarebear. time out. before we start, i just want all of you to know that i have been honest with Missionary about everything... Except Ex-Squeeze. kinda. i told him after the fact, and not every full blown detail. so here we go. jarebear and i are engaged on facebook. not in real life. the only reason jaron and i arent "together" is because he is moving at the beginning of the year to go to california for his band. i may or may not go out there with him. ha.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; also, i suck it up at this truth thing. so here is the rest of them.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 23. Something you wish you had done in your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;my life is not even close to being over so i dont really have a whole lot of things to choose from. ask me in 20 years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 24. Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear whoever is reading this: this is my current playlist. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;anything john mayer - because he is legit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pfft. i dont know. because i love life. for the most part(: haha. i dont think i have a specific person or event that has made me want to live? like Missionary saved me from my path of destruction, but so has my friends and family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhm yeah. honestly, i think that everyone has at one point in time. things get to be so stressful and sometimes, when it rains, it pours. life is tough. i dont care what anyone says. it bothers me when people are like "life is too short to be mad or upset." okay, although life could end unexpectedly for anyone, for the most part, its a long. and. its okay to pissed every now and then. i hate people that are so happy all the time. its like i kind of want to punch you so you feel some other emotion. i dont know. whatever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;that toph has almost hit a year(: its christmas time. i am almost positive i get to keep my job after the season at rue. uhmm there are a few things(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i would cry. a lot. because A. its not Missionary's baby. 2. i am totally not ready to be a mother. i may or may not give it up for adoption. although that is easier said than done, i am sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i hope that i can get over the fact that i get so jealous over things i have no control over. that is thee one thing o hate most about myself. its always been a flaw. i also am trying to not be so spiteful to people that have done me wrong. intentional or not.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;didnt we do this on like, day 2 or something? go read that one(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1073573997146497081?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1073573997146497081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1073573997146497081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/since-i-have-no-life-and-have-nothing.html' title='Since I Have No Life And Nothing Better To Do...'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5056263623477099956</id><published>2010-12-19T22:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T22:43:24.518-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #19</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQ7s9Ga-XeI/AAAAAAAAAgk/rsX8Ba6EQxM/s1600/buyingstuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQ7s9Ga-XeI/AAAAAAAAAgk/rsX8Ba6EQxM/s320/buyingstuff.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5056263623477099956?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5056263623477099956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5056263623477099956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/post-secret-19.html' title='Post Secret #19'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQ7s9Ga-XeI/AAAAAAAAAgk/rsX8Ba6EQxM/s72-c/buyingstuff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-436829385877483805</id><published>2010-12-13T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T14:53:49.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook Is Ruining My Life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;seriously, it is. so mondays are great right? i get to talk to Missionary. however. Missionary's family is freaking nuts. and they tell him false information about me. or information they dont have full details on. like me being engaged to my jarebear. they told&amp;nbsp; Missionary that he needs to let me go. uhm f that idea. thats terrible. dude. like ugh! i am so bothered. like instead of messaging me or texting me or something, they go off what they see and try to get me in trouble. i swear to you i am not trying to play the victim, but i am convinced they are out to get me. so, i am going to keep playing this game and see how much i can get away with. because as mad as it makes me, it also gives me joy that a. they pay attention to me. 2. they take everything so seriously. laughs on you guys. also, i was going to give them a christmas present. but i just changed my mind. i should take the high road... but i'm not going to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-436829385877483805?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/436829385877483805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/436829385877483805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/facebook-is-ruining-my-life.html' title='Facebook Is Ruining My Life.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6995804121295417358</id><published>2010-12-12T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T20:11:37.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Drake So Much.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO1Ydwc8I/AAAAAAAAAgU/wXGHFqQwnk0/s1600/Drake-in-a-field-aubrey-drake-graham-6724085-500-333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO1Ydwc8I/AAAAAAAAAgU/wXGHFqQwnk0/s320/Drake-in-a-field-aubrey-drake-graham-6724085-500-333.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO2q6fwMI/AAAAAAAAAgc/1B2pLNylxn4/s1600/drake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="252" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO2q6fwMI/AAAAAAAAAgc/1B2pLNylxn4/s320/drake.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO23AHIvI/AAAAAAAAAgg/B8Y2FiIvm9U/s1600/Drake_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO23AHIvI/AAAAAAAAAgg/B8Y2FiIvm9U/s320/Drake_1.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWOyPEhSsI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/RzK79Al8TI0/s1600/aubrey-drake-graham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWOyPEhSsI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/RzK79Al8TI0/s320/aubrey-drake-graham.jpg" width="212" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6995804121295417358?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6995804121295417358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6995804121295417358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-love-drake-so-much.html' title='I Love Drake So Much.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWO1Ydwc8I/AAAAAAAAAgU/wXGHFqQwnk0/s72-c/Drake-in-a-field-aubrey-drake-graham-6724085-500-333.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8938552678214559603</id><published>2010-12-12T19:12:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T19:12:32.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #18</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWBC1IjnQI/AAAAAAAAAgM/xFPnbjPHogc/s1600/9431_1246375595368_1108757845_30777702_3447327_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWBC1IjnQI/AAAAAAAAAgM/xFPnbjPHogc/s320/9431_1246375595368_1108757845_30777702_3447327_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8938552678214559603?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8938552678214559603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8938552678214559603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/post-secret-18.html' title='Post Secret #18'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TQWBC1IjnQI/AAAAAAAAAgM/xFPnbjPHogc/s72-c/9431_1246375595368_1108757845_30777702_3447327_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9076177928337617933</id><published>2010-12-10T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T19:59:23.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is A Must Lie Situation.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;hahahahaha i love seinfeld so much.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;jerry: “is it me or was that the ugliest baby you have ever  seen? and you know, the thing is,  they’re never gonna know, no ones ever gonna tell them.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;elaine: “oh, you have to lie.”&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;jerry: “it’s a must-lie situation” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;elaine: “yes, it’s a must-lie situation.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;but seriously, how real is this situation? how many times have you seen an ugly baby and had to be like ""ohhh theyre so cute!" i just dont say anything. because thats better than lying, right? haha i dont want an ugly baby. i dont want other people to think i have an ugly baby and have to lie to me about it. please just let me have an attractive baby that will then grow into an attractive adult(: i just need to marry someone super attractive. like Missionary. or Boyfriend. because we already know Boyfriend makes cute babies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9076177928337617933?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9076177928337617933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9076177928337617933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/this-is-must-lie-situation.html' title='This Is A Must Lie Situation.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6152640090076247874</id><published>2010-12-08T15:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T15:43:27.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am Past The Point Of Being Upset</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;now i am just pissed. like ugh! i hate when talking about things almost makes the problem worse. i should feel better because i got it all of my chest. but the more i think about it, the more it gets talked about, the more mad i get. and i dont want to be mad. i just ugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear parents,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love you no matter what. but i can still be upset.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;love ash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;while we are writing letters...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear becky, brandon, and britny,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;thank you for letting me vent my crazy life to you all the time. thank you for not judging me too harshly(:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear Boyfriend,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;you suck at being a boyfriend right now. please just go back to normal, okay? thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear toph,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i miss you immensely. please come home as soon as possible. that would be excellent(: i love you lots and lots and more lots.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; dear trav,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i miss you a lot too. but not enough to do anything about it. i hope youre doing okay...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear life,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;please get better soon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6152640090076247874?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6152640090076247874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6152640090076247874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-am-past-point-of-being-upset.html' title='I Am Past The Point Of Being Upset'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6714471395168258641</id><published>2010-12-07T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T16:51:27.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Honestly Cant Believe How Petty People Are</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;seriously. so once upon a time, there was a site called myspace. maybe you have heard of it. myspace has this feature where you can put specific people on your "top friends." being on someone's top friends was legit. if you moved down from the spot you were in, or got removed, you know you pissed them off. or you werent friends anymore. so stupid. whatever. now, you just unfriend someone on facebook. i seriously think its a joke. because something happened, we cant be facebook friends anymore? youre retarded. youre also 24. so maybe you should grow up a little. just saying(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6714471395168258641?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6714471395168258641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6714471395168258641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-honestly-cant-believe-how-petty.html' title='I Honestly Cant Believe How Petty People Are'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4709327879774995352</id><published>2010-12-06T14:08:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T00:37:11.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Really Depressing. I'm Sorry In Advance.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i can't think of anything to say, funny or serious. i used to be funny. honestly! i was quick minded. i could come up with the perfect snappy  comeback instantly. now? i'm amazed if i can tie my shoes. i'm sad. all the time. and i'm lonesome. and i don't know why. actually. i do know why. my Missionary is on the other side of the world.&amp;nbsp; and? i don't feel like i have any friends. that sounds stupid. okay. i know i have some friends. but i don't have any friends i can just call up on the spur of the moment and say "lets go to salt lake and blow my paycheck."&amp;nbsp; all my friends have little kids or controlling husbands or full-time jobs or are full-time students. i used to have a friend that i could call up and say "let's go."&amp;nbsp; only she up and left me to go to florida. she dumped me. so. therefore i'm lonely. but?&amp;nbsp; i'm really struggling with the why i'm sad part. again... Missionary is on the other side of the world. but this being 10 time zones away is not a new thing. i mean its been 10 months. holy hell. i also feel completely unproductive. he's out doin' his part to do what he feels is right and i'm at home. sittin on my ass. blogging. it makes me cry. and i freaking hate to cry. because only babies cry. big girls don't cry. i am pretty sure i have fought depression all my life. when i was younger i would cry over everything. and i mean everything. my hair looked stupid, my socks felt funny, those pants didnt match that shirt. and when i got older, like 9, i had to take pills. and i would fight it. i didnt think there was anything wrong with me. but looking back now, i figure i must have been depressed. even as a couple of years ago. all the alcohol i drank, all the boys i hooked up with, all the times i would swallow a bottle of pills or try to slit my wrists... i didn't wanna die, i just wanted someone to see me. to see my pain. to comfort me and take care of me. someone like toph. and now he is gone. and i am off my pills again. i need to get back on because this? this feels like more than just being depressed. this feels totally outta control. i know that i don't have any control over things that are out of my control. duh. but right now i feel like i don't even have control over myself. my emotions are crazy. i have no gray area. it's black and i'm a blubbering mess or it's white and i'm okay.&amp;nbsp; but even the being okay part is not so okay.&amp;nbsp; it's not like i'm happy or anything fun like that. and if you look at me wrong or, heaven forbid, be nice to me or some stupid ish like that, i'm back to bawling. i feel like i'm five years old again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4709327879774995352?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4709327879774995352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4709327879774995352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/this-is-really-depressing-im-sorry-in.html' title='This Is Really Depressing. I&apos;m Sorry In Advance.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3083997015191842564</id><published>2010-12-05T14:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T14:43:23.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #17</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPwHc8vrhzI/AAAAAAAAAe4/_TMfBUO3rkw/s1600/ngtQpc7bdpl5b69uEVWg8MEPo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="215" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPwHc8vrhzI/AAAAAAAAAe4/_TMfBUO3rkw/s320/ngtQpc7bdpl5b69uEVWg8MEPo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3083997015191842564?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3083997015191842564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3083997015191842564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/post-secret-17.html' title='Post Secret #17'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPwHc8vrhzI/AAAAAAAAAe4/_TMfBUO3rkw/s72-c/ngtQpc7bdpl5b69uEVWg8MEPo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2199132086339889018</id><published>2010-12-02T15:32:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T15:32:51.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Had The Best Dream Ever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;it was about drake(: like i am obsessed with him. obsessed. look at his lips and tell me you dont want to mack on them. all. day. forever. i would have his mocha babies(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPgeZPx5hiI/AAAAAAAAAe0/UkHJG6O7esc/s1600/drake_opener.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="220" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPgeZPx5hiI/AAAAAAAAAe0/UkHJG6O7esc/s320/drake_opener.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2199132086339889018?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2199132086339889018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2199132086339889018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-had-best-dream-ever.html' title='I Had The Best Dream Ever.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPgeZPx5hiI/AAAAAAAAAe0/UkHJG6O7esc/s72-c/drake_opener.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2969203445148787584</id><published>2010-12-01T10:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T10:23:47.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Mother Land. Its December. Day 22.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;can i just say that after halloween, its all downhill? like everything goes a thousand miles an hour. i love it. which means t has almost hit a year. and even though i am the worst missionary girlfriend ever, i can still redeem myself. because i didnt get married and i didnt get pregnant. but we still have another whole year...(;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;decemberrrr. i love it. i love the snow. but only when it first comes, when it happens on christmas eve, christmas day and new years, and when you are going on cute dates. thats it. please dont snow any other time. i love the lights and the fireplace is going. and it smells like christmas(: i love that i have Boyfriend to do stuff with right now. ha that sounds bad but whatever. i hate being single this time of year. but dont even fret, i will still like Boyfriend even when the season is over(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ugh! why do i susck so bad at keeping up with these truths! &lt;span&gt;day 22. something you wish you hadn’t done in your life. honestly, i wish i wasnt such a skank in high school. i wish i hadnt hooked up with so many people. because now, like anybody that i meet that i went to high school with is like, "didnt you and brayden..." yep. thats me. hahaha let me just say this, i had the time of my life. i went to a lot of fun parties, i kissed everyone i wanted to, i get to brag to Best Friend that i got to kiss them and she didnt. thats just the game we play. but, thats like my rep now. and people will get over it. which is great. some people wont. and thats okay too. but it still sucks to be talked about like that when that isnt you anymore. people grow up and people change. so i guess the people that keep bringing it up are the immature ones that are clearly still stuck in high school. they'll figure it out one day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2969203445148787584?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2969203445148787584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2969203445148787584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/12/holy-mother-land-its-december.html' title='Holy Mother Land. Its December. Day 22.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5646927982671685538</id><published>2010-11-30T15:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T15:08:22.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate Choosing.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;freak. so i watched the jazz spank the bucks last night with RM. uhm it was fun till he asked me if i was kissing other guys. haha i didnt know what to say at first. but hesitation usually means yes. so. i just told him straight up. and then he was like me or Boyfriend. anddddd. i think i am going to choose Boyfriend. i just like him more. i am more attracted to him. i hate hurting people. i really do. this is like guy number 3 i have hurt in a week. i am not trying to brag by any means. trust me. if you saw the guys that were hitting on me, you would get it. also, i kinda threw my Missionary in there just because i could. so i was like "none of this is going to matter in a year anyways. whether i choose you or Boyfriend, the second t gets off the plane, i am saying peace out to all of you." so then RM was all "well do you not want a relationship for that reason?" uhm yeah. you could say that. i just want to be. i want to be able to do whatever i want. whenever i want. with whoever i want. and not have to answer to anyone. until toph comes home. but, if Boyfriend wanted to legit be my boyfriend, i would say yes. duhhh. this is stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5646927982671685538?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5646927982671685538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5646927982671685538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-hate-choosing.html' title='I Hate Choosing.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-341778689439076386</id><published>2010-11-28T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T14:54:43.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Probably The Best Weekend Ever. Day 21.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;first of all. the jazz beat the lakers. suck on that california. i hate kobe. dont get me wrong, he is a great player. but he is the only one the plays. thats stupid. and then he is like "oh i dont know why everyone hates me." uhm a. you are an arrogant ball hog. 2. youre a rapist. the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;secondly, utes beat the cougs. and thats all the matters. i hate byu. ugh. i am so glad utah won.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so i watched the game with the RM. uhmm i really am changing my blog name to "how to corrupt missionaries." he has been home like 2 and a half weeks. guess what. i kissed him. well, actually, he kissed me. but i definitely kissed him back. haha i suck so much you guys. thats not cool. i dont want to be the first girl an RM kisses. like, no. not only that, i dont even know if i like him that much. i just know that he likes me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;with that being said, i dont even know what to do about Boyfriend. ugh. i wish i knew what was going on, but i dont want to like pressure him to make something official if thats not what he wants. but i kind of need to know soon so i know whats okay with RM. flip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i worked with both RM and Boyfriend on black friday. hahahahaha that was fun. oh land. i love black friday so much. mab&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;² forever!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i think thats it. i really dont have anything else to write. so lets do a truth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 21. (scenario) your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. what do you do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;did she die? haha i mean how severe. of course i would be upset. duhh i would go to where ever she was and make sure she is okay. its okay for best friends to fight. i think i would be more concerned if there wasnt any fighting. i try to not be mad at important people in my life for this reason. you dont ever know when something like this will happen. so say i love you before you leave. let people know how grateful you are to have them in your lives. pick your fights. apologize. do what you have to do so that in the event that you lose them within the next hour, they know how you feel about them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-341778689439076386?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/341778689439076386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/341778689439076386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/this-is-probably-best-weekend-ever-day.html' title='This Is Probably The Best Weekend Ever. Day 21.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5358789240977419410</id><published>2010-11-28T14:41:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T14:41:56.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #16</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPLMn7Z7BPI/AAAAAAAAAbY/se4beW_C2w4/s1600/moonlightadventures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPLMn7Z7BPI/AAAAAAAAAbY/se4beW_C2w4/s320/moonlightadventures.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5358789240977419410?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5358789240977419410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5358789240977419410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/post-secret-16.html' title='Post Secret #16'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TPLMn7Z7BPI/AAAAAAAAAbY/se4beW_C2w4/s72-c/moonlightadventures.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-271885723375066769</id><published>2010-11-25T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T08:39:49.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have A Love/Hate Relationship With Thanksgiving.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;blegh! it feels like it has been saturday for 2 days. and its going to feel like that for the next 2 days as well. fantastic. thanksgiving is so boring. oh my gosh. you do nothing. all. day. and then you stuff your face till you have to unbutton your pants. and then you sleep. and then get up and do the same thing. and then! you eat the same thing for like a week. does no one know how to cook thanksgiving proportionately? i just have to tell you that i just spelled that right! the squiggly red line didnt even pop up. chyeah! anyways. this is why i hate thanksgiving. its just lazy. also, i think its lame that we have to designate a day to be thankful. idk i know its "tradition," but still. be thankful errrday. upside: delicious food. however: i should be eating a feast like this errrday as well. but i am thankful that i get a scrumptious meal at least one day a year when some people in honduras get to eat bugs. i feel bad. i really do. also, one more thing. if i get another text that says "happy thanksgiving" i will... do something. i dont know what exactly yet. i dont need a thousand people sending me a text to tell me what day it is. i am aware.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;hmph. i went to Boyfriends last night(: we slept. we both just crashed out. and then i came home and slept some more. i need to go to bed at like 6 tonight. as soon as i eat, i am taking some nyquil or something so i can sleep and be able to function normally at work tomorrow. all 21 hours. my life is awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-271885723375066769?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/271885723375066769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/271885723375066769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-have-lovehate-relationship-with.html' title='I Have A Love/Hate Relationship With Thanksgiving.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5547963435351114670</id><published>2010-11-24T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T19:17:32.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Thing His Crotch Has Cat-Like Reflexes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="353" style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #333333; font: 11px arial; width: 360px;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #e5e5e5;" valign="middle"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 2px 1px 0px 5px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/tosh.0/" style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"&gt;Tosh.0&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-weight: bold; padding: 2px 5px 0px; text-align: right;"&gt;Weds 10:30pm / 9:30c&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="height: 14px;" valign="middle"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" style="padding: 2px 1px 0px 5px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/videos/index.jhtml?videoId=266943&amp;amp;title=video-breakdown-brick-to-the" style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"&gt;Video Breakdown - Brick to the Nuts&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=""&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #353535; height: 14px;" valign="middle"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" style="overflow: hidden; padding: 2px 5px 0px; text-align: right; width: 360px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/" style="color: #96deff; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"&gt;www.comedycentral.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr valign="middle"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" style="padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;embed allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="autoPlay=false" height="301" src="http://media.mtvnservices.com/mgid:cms:item:comedycentral.com:266943" style="display: block;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="360" wmode="window"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="height: 18px;" valign="middle"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" style="padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="100%" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr valign="middle"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 3px; width: 33%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/shows/toshpt0/videos/index.jhtml" style="color: #333333; font: 10px arial; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"&gt;Tosh.0 Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 3px; width: 33%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/tosh.0/" style="color: #333333; font: 10px arial; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"&gt;Daniel Tosh&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 3px; width: 33%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedycentral.com/tosh.0/category/web-redemptions/" style="color: #333333; font: 10px arial; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"&gt;Web Redemption&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5547963435351114670?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5547963435351114670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5547963435351114670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/good-thing-his-crotch-has-cat-like.html' title='Good Thing His Crotch Has Cat-Like Reflexes.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-3363488220926962264</id><published>2010-11-22T18:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T18:52:49.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh, Seriously? You Bug Me. Day 20</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dude. i am in one of those moods where everything makes me mad. everything. it doesnt matter what. if you look at me, i will cut you. i am so stressed. i dont even know how to function normally. my mind is going a thousand miles an hour. i dont want to do anything. i just want to sit in my room and blare my music and just be. Boyfriend just text me. he makes me happy. even still, he took too damn long to text me back so i was mad at him too. ahh. mother f. i say that a lot. and i need to not say it so much.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so like ya know how everyone has a "type"? yeah, my type is missionaries. i dont know why. like i dont have this mindset that i have to be with an rm or that they have to aspire to be a missionary. Boyfriend isnt going on a mission and thats just fine. all i am saying, is that all the boys i have been talking to other than Boyfriend, have been on a mission. whatever. but they all want to get married. guess what? i am over that phase in my life. i just wanna make out again. i should change my blog name to like "how to corrupt missionaries" or "ashlee  ♥'s missionaries" or "the really annoy things missionaries do" i dont know. but thats all i seem to be talking about. and thats fine. i'm over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;your views on drugs and alcohol.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i just LOVE abusing prescription drugs.i realize some people  might not find that very cool, but those are the  people that arent  rolling prozac. because if youre on prozac,  EVERYTHING is cool. just kidding. i havent ever had the desire to to drugs. ever. i just havent. i think its stupid. however, if thats your thing, just be smart. like drinking. i used to drink. i had the time of my life. in that moment. and then i woke up and realized how stupid that was. drinking. meh. i dont know. i may or may not still have the desire to drink. haha. but i dont. and thats all that matters. if you drink, be smart. thats it. the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-3363488220926962264?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3363488220926962264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/3363488220926962264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/ugh-seriously-you-bug-me-day-20.html' title='Ugh, Seriously? You Bug Me. Day 20'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7868265256418989871</id><published>2010-11-21T12:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:51:12.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Really Am A Pleaser.  And This Is Not A Good Thing. Day 19.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so i definitely saw harry potter last night with beezy. first things first. previews are the whole reason to even go to a movie. right? i mean they get you all pumped for whats coming out soon in a theater nearest you! and then you totally forget what you even came to see in the first place. but no. these previews were different. they suck! there wasnt one trailer that i was like "oh my gosh. my life will be so much better because of this film! i will probably see it numerous times!" the best part was, i totally called the movie names even though i had no idea thats what it was. cowboys and aliens? really? stupid. anyways. hp. it is amazing. ahh! i really just love it so much. i will see it like 9 more times. ron is hot! speaking of hot red-heads. i saw the most beautiful red head the other day. and we totally flirted it up. but. i was with amanda and and tucker and her mom at mani's husbands and dads work. so he didnt ask for my number. and i was sad. i should have gotten his because they would have just laughed and not thought a thing of it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhmm.... kinda like this new boy i'm hanging out with. but i dont like that i like him. why do i have to be the kind of person that falls in love at the drop of a hat? why do i have to crave intimacy so much? seriously. so i am giving this whole "play it cool, don't lose your head, don't let yourself get too involved, don't open up until it's a mutual thing" thing a shot. but consciously protecting one's heart hurts just as much as letting it get pierced. i dont know. i am not saying that i love him. i dont know him well enough to love him. but i dont want it to be just a physical thing either. as much as i love getting physical. so far, so good though. its mutual talking, mutual efforts to see each other. also, i dont want it to be a rebound from Ex-Squeeze though. even though its been a few months. speaking of which.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i get a call from Ex-Squeeze's best friend and he is like "hey ash, just wanted to make sure youre doing okay concerning everything thats going on..." and i was like "uhmm what are you talking about?" and he was all "just that Ex-Squeeze is getting married to byu." and then i said "so the rumors are true... i'm fine." normally, i'm fine is a huge fat lie. i'm not lying you guys. it just hit me. out of no where i was like "holy land. i dont care anymore." this. was the best feeling ever. i am finally indifferent. i dont care. at all. i dont care to talk to him, i dont care to be a creeper and facebook stalk, i dont care what they are doing. i really dont. and i love it. i should get a trophy for overcoming this. because those of you that know me well, knows that this was rough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;hmph. what else. i've been writing this blog for about 9 months now. i think. and i need to be perfectly honest with you. despite the fact that i appear to know what the hell i'm talking about... i don't. i don't know what to do with my blog, in which direction to take it, or even what i ultimately want it to be. and right now it's a shapeless blob of just crap. so i&amp;nbsp; guess i'm just asking you all to bear with me as i "find myself" and develop a clearer focus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;your views on religion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i am lds. thats it. thats all i'm saying(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7868265256418989871?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7868265256418989871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7868265256418989871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/day-19.html' title='I Really Am A Pleaser.  And This Is Not A Good Thing. Day 19.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-779161390754926025</id><published>2010-11-21T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:19:01.642-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #15</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TOlwl6cDeTI/AAAAAAAAAag/pNWAYwOp9Po/s1600/tumblr_kohvhnMqiW1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="250" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TOlwl6cDeTI/AAAAAAAAAag/pNWAYwOp9Po/s320/tumblr_kohvhnMqiW1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-779161390754926025?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/779161390754926025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/779161390754926025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/post-secret-15.html' title='Post Secret #15'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TOlwl6cDeTI/AAAAAAAAAag/pNWAYwOp9Po/s72-c/tumblr_kohvhnMqiW1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4766984174427870719</id><published>2010-11-16T09:00:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T09:00:06.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its A Christmas Miracle That I Found Time To Write This. Day 18.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;oh land. i am not quite sure how i am going to manage two jobs. its only for two months but still. thats 60 days of time management. and guess what. i suck at time management. rue is freaking awesome. i love it so much. i hope that they keep me on after the season. i really do. i hate target so much. hahaha. i work at 3:45 in the a.m. on black friday. i think the most challenging part of my job is pretending to care. every mother flipping day, i have to go into work and be sociable, enthusiastic, and   positive. fortunately, i'm a phenomenal actress, and my coworkers think that i am a  truly appreciative and wonderful employee. i should get an oscar. i really should. i have managed to spare colton's life every time i work with him. and let me tell you, that is not easy to do. people that are power hungry suck. first of all, if you havent received the power after so long, youre probably never going to get it. move on. secondly, if you are close to being in power, but arent yet, do not act like you are. there is a right and a wrong way to getting a powerful position. and colton is doing it wrong. and i am going to let everyone know.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 18. your views on gay marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i dont agree with it. its not my lifestyle. i love penises waaaay too much. i am not going to judge you if that is your choice. and yes, sometimes, it is a choice. but its not my place to judge you. sooo do whatever floats your boat. love is love i guess. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4766984174427870719?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4766984174427870719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4766984174427870719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-christmas-miracle-that-i-found-time.html' title='Its A Christmas Miracle That I Found Time To Write This. Day 18.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4846343930709598507</id><published>2010-11-15T09:00:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:14:58.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its All Fun In Games Till Someone Gets Cancer. Day 17.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 17. a book that you have read that has changed your views on something.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;pfft. i dont know. i wish i could say that i have read one that has changed my life. but those normally arent the kind of books i read. although, they are my favorite. like memoirs. i read a million little pieces for my sociology class. and even though the tool that wrote it lied on harpo and said all of was real, even though some of it wasnt, it still made me re-evaluate my life a little bit. and like all the ellen hopkins books. they're good. they make you think about things. so there is this girl i went to school with. we will call her kristin. because thats her name. she has a blog and i would blog stalk her all the time. i recently found out she has cancer. that. blows. so bad! and in reading her blog, and other people's blogs about facing cancer themselves or having loved ones face the cancer battle, i realize how lucky i am to be healthy. to just have my health and not have to go through everything that these people have. and in a way, i am almost jealous. i wish i could have a life changing experience like that. one that would make me look at life and not take it for granted. these people are grateful for everyday they get through. and they are living their lives instead of just existing. i want to live.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;anways. this is completely random and not even relevant to what i was just thinking. but i just got a text from a really cute boy who i may or may not like. i also got a text from another guy who wants to hang out tonight, but we are "just friends." its not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;, i swear hahaha! the hardest part of dating isnt meeting guys. trust me, i meet plenty of   boys. its keeping track of  them all. when you're single, your life is   comprised of two things:  getting drunk and hooking up. which means   things get confusing  sometimes. just kidding. kind of. i dont drink so   thats no excuse. but really, last week, i opened every day at work  which  meant i had my nights free. i also had a lot of dates those  nights but i  couldnt remember what days were meant to be spent with  what guy. when i  was on my way to vegas, i got a call from my jarebear.  and i was like  "oh hey babe... yeah, i'm in saint geezy... it was spur  of the moment...  sorry i didnt tell you... we will play when i get  home... love you  too... bye." so the next day, i am getting ready with  baylee and she was  like "so your boyfriend doesnt care that you just up  and left?" and i  was all "uhmm he is like 6000 miles away. why would  he?"  because i still refer to t as my boyfriend even though i was  engaged and  have been in a few minor relationships since he has been  gone. "ohh,  why is he so far away? well i just didnt want you to get in  trouble  because you said it was 'spur of the moment.'" and then it hit  me. i was  like "oh ha yeah, &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; boyfriend. no, he doesnt  care." she  probably thought i was a skank. but really, its hard. you  have to make  time for them, you have to know who knows about what  boyfriend so that  when they ask questions, you have the right answers.  remember that one  time i said i suck at dating? yeah, there have been  no improvements. i  have just been going the whore route. but not in a  whore-ish way. i just  kiss. a lot. its a good time. i like lip-service.  you know what else is  hard about dating. telling people that you dont  actually want to date  them. and boys are so completely oblivious to  everything. its not like  you can just drop hints to let them know you  arent interested. you have  to full on say "hey, youre really nice, i'm  just not interested." and  then you feel horrible. at least i do. i hate  being rejected, so why  would i reject someone who is putting  themselves out there? see,  sometimes i dont completely suck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4846343930709598507?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4846343930709598507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4846343930709598507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-all-fun-in-games-till-someone-gets.html' title='Its All Fun In Games Till Someone Gets Cancer. Day 17.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1610034275909453879</id><published>2010-11-14T14:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:14:32.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Really, Feelings Are Still Incredibly Stupid. Lets Play Catch-Up. Days 11-16.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i really want to see love and other drugs. but i want to see it with someone. preferably someone that has some junk. i hate seeing movies with girls. it sucks! so because i have nothing better to do than to sit on the computer and fb stalk the crap out of insignificant people, i figured we could catch up on all the days that i have skipped. i should be about done with this truth stuff by now but whatever. i'll just do a few days to kill time. ready. set. go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 11. something people seem to compliment you the most on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;my eyes. and i am not sure why. i think my eyes suck to be honest. brown eyes are so boring. i wish i had way cool intense green eyes or something. anywho. all the time, people tell me how much they love my eyes. and how they "go on forever." whatever that means. thank you people who tell me i have pretty eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 12. something you never get compliments on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;my teeth. or my smile. unless its from my dentist. and thats really my favorite feature. want to make me happy? tell me i have a nice smile. it will make my day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 13. a band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;dear........ mayday parade. thank you for writing way cool songs about break ups(: they make me feel better about my situation. thank you. love ash. that was the shortest letter ever but its all i can come up with. i hate writing letters. unless it is to t. but while we are writing letters, lets write one to myself. dear self: please stop sucking at life. also, please stop complaining about stupid boys. you know better than this. you know that life could be much harder than it is. please get over yourself. right. now. love, me. i feel better already. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 14. a hero that has let you down. (letter)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhm i am skipping this one. everyone lets you down. actually, time out. he isnt my hero, but i definitely feel like saying something. dear caden, i kind of liked you. why did you have to be such a douchepacker? i mean dont get me wrong, i am all for hitting it and quitting it as long as everyone is on the same page. but i was clearly not on the same page as you. so it kind of made me mad that you just stopped talking to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;day 15. something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;holy land. does anyone feel like these are beginning to repeat themselves? haven’t i  already gone over the most important people and things in my life? lets take the shallow route. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;how shallow can i be? my cell phone. i love texting. ha. except! you know what i hate? when you're texting someone, and they respond  with lol, haha, or a freaking smiley face. 9 times out of ten, you probably did not think that what i said was funny. because i know what i said and it wasnt. i get it. but how the  hell am i supposed to respond to that? with another smiley face? if you're tired of the  conversation and don't want to continue, don't respond. just don't send  me a "yup" or "(;" it makes me want to stab you in the eye. anyways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; the internet. i feel cut off from the outside world. and it sucks! me and beezy have this game. its called "b picks someone out of his phonebook and ashlee tells b their life story. correct and current." i know everything about everybody. all the time. you dont even have to know me and i know your life story. i am very good at getting information from people without it seeming like i am pounding them for what i want to know. also, facebook just helps the situation. no one is safe on fb haha. when something huge&amp;nbsp;occurs in life,&amp;nbsp;it ends up on there for the whole  world to see and judge. or at the very least,&amp;nbsp;your entire&amp;nbsp;friends  list. and you inform the world of your every action by status updates. freaking ridiculous. it's just the way the majority of the world works nowdays. wanna know about that girl that dropped out of high school because she got prego? check facebook. or if you want to know if that huge fight between that couple at  the jazz game was really the end of it? profile&amp;gt;relationship status.  that'll give you the low-down. want to know if the thing that you have  with your guy is serious? ask him if he's ready to be "facebook official" because yes, declaring on your profile&amp;nbsp;that you are  exclusively dating someone is a huge step in a relationship. if its not on the facebook, its not real. i'm totally guilty of this, so i'm not pointing fingers randomly at the  outside world. there is one pointing at me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i sound like a creep. i kind of am. but i'm okay with that. actually. i changed my mind. i could live without facebook. thats the next question. anyways. make up. my car. starbucks coffee. toph. ha. music. i always have the radio on. always. books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. hahaha just kidding. i really need to stop talking about him. bees. i hate bees more than anything.&amp;nbsp; negativity. what is it with all the hate? i dont get it. i am a huge hater. and i dont like that i am. it bothers me. uhm i could live without... tv. i think its trashy. i love glee so much. dont you love my random rants? me too(: but lately! glee has been pushing the limits with some things. man, i dont know. like it kind of bothers me. t and i had this conversation once. and we decided that if we get married, which is now highly unlikely, that we werent going to let our kids watch tv. because everything on there is just trash.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;hmm. well thats my days. i should do laundry. i am too lazy to do anything. sundays are so lame! there isnt anything to do. haha. you sit around and do a whole lot of nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1610034275909453879?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1610034275909453879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1610034275909453879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/really-feelings-are-still-incredibly.html' title='Really, Feelings Are Still Incredibly Stupid. Lets Play Catch-Up. Days 11-16.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5709117398531306271</id><published>2010-11-14T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T12:23:51.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #14</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2otXvPOKI/AAAAAAAAAZc/lQVwhckw0Os/s1600/tumblr_l1gjt1FD2U1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="254" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2otXvPOKI/AAAAAAAAAZc/lQVwhckw0Os/s320/tumblr_l1gjt1FD2U1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5709117398531306271?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5709117398531306271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5709117398531306271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/post-secret-14.html' title='Post Secret #14'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2otXvPOKI/AAAAAAAAAZc/lQVwhckw0Os/s72-c/tumblr_l1gjt1FD2U1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-4414941059872570134</id><published>2010-11-13T21:33:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:14:06.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Seriously Cannot Handle This.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i just threw up. january 14. thats the day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; and byu are getting married. that still wont have even made it a year since he has been home. i dont know why, but it is making me sick. i wish we didnt talk now. i actually think i liked it better when i didnt know the ins and outs of their relationship. mother f. this is so stupid. like i get all excited that i am moving on and paying attention to other guys and kind of putting more focus into mine and t's relationship. and then i find out ish like this that brings everything back. and i cant handle it. i really cant. i hate that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; thinks that when i dont talk to him it means i am mad at him or that i dont care or whatever the crap goes through that big head of his. but thats not it at all. i'm not good with acknowledging certain things. there are some  things in life that you would rather stay unsaid. bundled up inside of  you never to surface again. you would think that i would have learned by now that that  never works. it will boil to the top somehow, and then you realize just  how badly you wanted to talk about it and not be holding it inside of  you making you crazy. my point is, i want to say things to him, i want to let him know how freaking mad he makes me and how incredibly stupid i think he is for getting engaged to byu 2 months after calling things quits with me. but. i dont like when he is mad at me. i dont want to be on bad terms with him. ever. that almost makes me more upset than this whole effed up situation. you know whats effed up. me. i am the one thats all sorts of screwed up. i shouldnt hate byu. but i do. i should hate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. i should be mad at him. byu didnt do anything wrong. but i am flawed. i am becoming everything i never thought i would. which is completely desperate. like i read what i write and i think to myself "ash. you are pitiful. youre better than this. get. out. now." but i dont&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. i need to move on. and honestly, i am trying to. i really am okay. i think i am more okay than everyone else thinks. like i dont cry. i'm not upset. this is the most upset i have been in a while actually. but clearly, i am not indifferent. i still am jealous. i think thats pretty normal though. right? i mean &lt;i&gt;i&lt;/i&gt; was going to be his wife. i seriously have no reason to be jealous. i dont. at all. but whatever. fkghasdfh;ogih f. thats my frustration. i need to leave. i need my Missionary to come home so i remember how perfect everything was when he was here. i didnt ever think of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; when he was here. i need to grow up. like now. i wish i was like 24. i just want to know what the hell i am doing with my life... that doesnt involve &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-4414941059872570134?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4414941059872570134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/4414941059872570134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-seriously-cannot-handle-this.html' title='I Seriously Cannot Handle This.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1724261890731683417</id><published>2010-11-12T13:46:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:13:26.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Hey, I Swear I'm Not Dead. Day 10.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i seriously suck. hahaha. i need to fix my computer. thats an excellent plan, yeah? its not gonna happen. i am just going to have to get on this bad mother when i can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;so new things happening in ashlee's life... nothing. haha i start my new job sunday. i hope i like it. i hope they like me so i can get the hell out of target. ahh its a joke there. i will miss the people i work with though(: they are the greatest!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;vegas! was a blast! its actually kind of trashy. i dont know. haha i love salt lake. love it. there arent too many creepers there. so i kind of thought vegas would be the same way. yeah, its not. its definitely glamorized. and thats fine(: haha. the concert was a freaking blast. drake is amazing. he is definitely better than good enough(; weeeeezy showed up too! i may or may not have cried a little bit. i was so excited. bad news though friends. my camera died like the instant he showed up. i was very upset ): here is drake in all his glory(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2nq78CepI/AAAAAAAAAZU/a63l3153lDo/s1600/76596_1508756797336_1186827588_31183904_5919313_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2nq78CepI/AAAAAAAAAZU/a63l3153lDo/s320/76596_1508756797336_1186827588_31183904_5919313_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;lets talk about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. i love him. i really do. and he loves me back. at least he says he does. so lets just throw that out there. he text me last night and was like hey lets hang out. and you should be proud to know that i declined. it was rough. i wanted to say yes in the worst way. but i think the fact that i said no helped our situation. because he totally came clean to me. i now officially know that he is with byu. and that he loves her. i had to ask. its kind of great that i know because now i can make fun of her to his face. haha just kidding. but it does make talking easier since neither one of us is trying to hide anything. we can just go back to being open and honest about everything. its good. i love it. and so does he. we was all "thanks for talking with me last night. i feel so much better about everything now" so yeah. we will see what happens. i dont think that we will stay friends much longer. byu moves back in december. we are just going to sort of drift. and i'm okay with that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhmm freak. nothing else really. i have like 4 posts and its the 12th. i really do feel like a failure! haha even though i havent actually done anything worth mentioning. meh. whatever. can i just tell you, that i need some good, good loving. hahaha(: not really. i just wanna make out with someone. its been like 3 weeks since i have made out with anyone. i have said this before, i was getting love everyday for two years with t. and then 4 months with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. and even when &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; and i called it quits, we still totally hooked up! all the time. soooo i am feeling a little deprived here. ): flip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;truth yeah? someone you need to let go, or wish you didnt know. do i even have to say it? haha &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. i really want to choose someone different so lets think about this... bahh i really dont even know who else i even feel this way about. i remember being absolutely head over heels for j-sack. who by the way was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;'s best friend. who would have thunk? ha anyways. it took me a long time to get over him. but now, he is like so completely insignificant to me. like i can run into him somewhere and there are no feelings at all. its funny how when you grow up, things you thought were important right then, dont even matter anymore. i think for the most part, i have let go of everybody that i feel i need to let go of. i tried letting go of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. and his family. but its not working out so well. maybe when he actually gets married, it will be easier. thats actually how i got over j-sack. but whatever. sorry my whole life consists of stupid boys. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1724261890731683417?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1724261890731683417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1724261890731683417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/oh-hey-i-swear-im-not-dead-day-10.html' title='Oh Hey, I Swear I&apos;m Not Dead. Day 10.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2nq78CepI/AAAAAAAAAZU/a63l3153lDo/s72-c/76596_1508756797336_1186827588_31183904_5919313_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-7000294290832280827</id><published>2010-11-07T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T13:50:34.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #13</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2ogs2zomI/AAAAAAAAAZY/3prI8ekv-E4/s1600/tumblr_ky1z77psb51qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="207" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2ogs2zomI/AAAAAAAAAZY/3prI8ekv-E4/s320/tumblr_ky1z77psb51qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-7000294290832280827?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7000294290832280827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/7000294290832280827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/post-secret-13.html' title='Post Secret #13'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TN2ogs2zomI/AAAAAAAAAZY/3prI8ekv-E4/s72-c/tumblr_ky1z77psb51qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9117929885203343278</id><published>2010-11-05T22:58:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:12:32.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Just Chillin In St. G Watching Basketball. Day 9.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;ahh! so i am definitely in saint george right now. waiting to go to vegas so i can go to the drake concert and lil wayne will be there! yay! I haven't ever been to vegas so i am already excited about that and the fact that i get to go to a way rad concert makes it better! chyeah!(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;uhmm i am writing this in an iphone so i can't like fix the font on it to make it match the rest of my posts! ha! we have been watching basketball for the past like three hours. i love the jazz so much(: and! apparently the u plays a big game tomorrow. i seriously can't wait for them to play byu. I hate byu so much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;this post sucks. more &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; drama. honestly. this is stupid. i am stupid. we kind of got in an argument and like he gets mad at me when i end conversations with a smilie face so I just don't say anything at all. so then i get a text like an hour later at midnight that says what's up? and then one 4 minutes later that says are you mad at me ash? and then like 40 minutes after that I get one that's like I hate when you stop texting me. you text any time, any place. But when you're mad, you stop. uhmmm whatever &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. A. it's one in the morning and that's why I am not texting back. sometimes I sleep and I don't wake up to my phone. 2. why do you care if I am mad? I don't get it. ahhh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Let's do a truth, yeah? Someone who you didn't want to let go, they just drifted. Pretty much everyone in high school. Haha not really. but kind of. there were a lot of people i was friends with in high school that I don't see or talk to anymore. It sucks but o guess that's just part of life and growing up. I think it also kind of sorts out your true friends. Because those are the people that make an effort to still see and talk to you without stalking you on facebook haha(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;hmmph. Well i think that's it. Sorry this sucks. I swear I will post something blog worthy soon(;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9117929885203343278?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9117929885203343278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9117929885203343278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/im-just-chillin-in-st-g-watching.html' title='I&apos;m Just Chillin In St. G Watching Basketball. Day 9.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8301872631089120208</id><published>2010-11-04T13:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:11:47.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bahh. I Wish I Had More Time To Write.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;whoop! ashlee got a new job. at rue 21. i am so excited! yay! they hired me on as seasonal, but the assistant manager said that he would probably keep me even after its over. so happy day for that. however, probably is not one hundred percent, so i am still going to work at target just in case i dont end up staying at rue. the small life i started to create is over. and i still have to go to school. which, by the way, sucks. i hate it. i hate math. no one cares if you know how to do it. effin a! its so aggravating. so today i am sitting in math and i am like a 2 chapters behind everyone and the teacher comes up to me and starts talking loud enough for everyone to hear that i need to catch up and blah blah blah. so stupid. i hate him now. he made me feel retarded in front of everyone. and anyone that knows me, knows that i do not to well with public humiliation. intentional or not. i hate you math professor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also! i love that i use the word also all the time haha. but for reals. more &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; and Missionary stories! yay! i know that these are your favorite(: we can start with t. long story short-ish. i told him about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. he got mad. but then did the whole "i'm happy if you are" crap. lyin sack. he was pissed and thats fine. so then i emailed him back and told him that i was genuinely sorry, that i didnt mean to hurt him, that i still loved and cared about him and that i wanted to be here for him whether it be as his "girlfriend" or just a friend. ps. i love being just friends. its the best. try it out. flip! so then i get one back and he said that it was okay, that he understood the situation yadda yadda yadda. so we are good now(: he loves me again. really, i do feel bad because i have been treating him so unfairly and yet i get so mad when i dont get an email or when he gets mad at me. but we all know i am a terrible person so i guess that makes it okay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. its rather pathetic that i know how we works, yet i am still a little bit surprised when it happens. okay so! he works with this guy steve-o whose wife is going to have a baby! yay! i love babies. so i went into the office to give steve-o his present and bam! there's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. duh. so i just talked to steve-o, not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. left and life is grand. when i get home, i tell my mom how it went and i was like ten bucks says i get a text or a call from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; tonight. sure as ish, i get a call from him. to tell me a story that is completely unnecessary for me to hear. and then i get some texts and i text back and eventually i fall asleep. so i wake up to three texts. the one that woke me up says "you used to always wake up to talk to me ):" well babe, we were also in a relationship and you werent engaged. did i say that? no, of course not. bah. i need to change my number. i really am okay. like i am not sad anymore. just kind of bothered? i guess. i dont even know what my feelings are. jealousy mostly.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;anywayyyyys. thats pretty much it. i was supposed to go to logan with shae this weekend but i dont think that that is going to happen anymore. and i am okay with that. i dont need anymore drama and ex girlfriends in my life. i'll post another truth here soon. i just dont have time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8301872631089120208?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8301872631089120208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8301872631089120208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/bahh-i-wish-i-had-more-time-to-write.html' title='Bahh. I Wish I Had More Time To Write.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-2167068372775523821</id><published>2010-11-01T10:47:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:10:52.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am Skipping A Day To Talk About Marriage And Babies.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i thought i was doing really well with blogging. i was like "chyeahhh i blog every single day! which is the point of this whole thing. duhh." and then i moved. where i have no computer. and i am too cheap to pay to have my laptop fixed. actually, thats not true. i have the money to fix it, there are just other things i have to have right now. and a new laptop screen is not one of them. anyways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;a whole lot of nothing happened over the weekend. i worked. and slept. and ate. yup. thats pretty much it. but! i do have to just vent my anger and feelings toward some things. because when am i not angry at something or someone? oh and also! sorry if this is super long. i get mad when i blogstalk people and their posts take 7 years to read. but anyways. so laura calls me while i am at work on saturday and is all "hey i need you to call me asap." i am thinking "heck yes! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; dumped byu!" why else would she need me to call her asap? wrong. dead wrong. her hubby is filing for divorce. this = the worst idea ever. what the scum? once again. this whole failing relationship goes back to being selfish. one hundred percent. and i just have to say that i love both of them no matter what happens. but i will still be a little bit bothered because everything that "broken" CAN be fixed. its just going to take some time. a lot of time actually. not just 8 months. also, the problems that they are having now, totally could have been averted if they would have discussed it before they got married. not two years in. i mean people talk about finances and how many kids they want and what they want to do for the rest of their lives and where they want to live. ya know, all that good stuff. but does anyone ever say, "hey look, if we get married, i would prefer if&amp;nbsp; you didnt go out so often and hang out with so and so" or "when we get hitched, i have to go with you to the bar." i dont know, i am just throwing things out there. point is, when you get together, you need to know what behavior is appropriate. and i know that i may seem controlling, but i dont think it is. if you want to be with that person bad enough, the fact that they dont like something should be enough for you to stop. like with t. i drank all the time. all the time. and i would call him drunk and he would talk to me. blah blah blah. and then we got in a relationship and he told me that i couldnt drink anymore, that if i did, he would break up with me. bam. done drinking. i didnt want to lose him. and i didnt think that he was controlling my life by any means. i looked at it as he cared about me enough to make me stop.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also! laura has a baby, yeah? he is the cutest baby in the world. i love him so much. he was born like a year after they got married. i am not going to tell people to wait to have kids, but i just dont understand why people feel the need to pop out 12 kids right away. the one thing people always tell me when i ask why they want kidlets right away is that they dont want to be an old parent... youre 19... so you want to be a teen parent? yeah, thats a million times better. not. you are only as old as you let yourself get. 25 is NOT old people. its not. wait to have school done, wait to get a better paying job. i dont think that there is never a "right" time to have a baby. because if you wait for that time, it will be the 5th of never. no one is ever fully ready to have kids. unless youre super rich. but! there is a wrong time, and here in utah, when you get married at ages 19 and 22, its wrong. you dont know who you are, i know you dont know the other person because you just got married after 10 days of dating and now youre going to throw a baby in there. good luck with that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i thought i had my life planned out. i was supposed to graduate from college when i was 22, get married at 23 and have my first child when i was 25. that almost changed. i would have graduated from high school at 17, been married at 19, and popping out kid numero uno at 21. i dont want to be a mom at 21. i dont want to be a mom at 23. why not? because i am too damn selfish, thats why. i want to be able to pick up and go with the husband to freaking spain and not have to worry about finding someone to watch the kids. i want to be able to provide for the kids i will eventually have, and not be dirt poor. i dont want me and the husband to get in a fight that may or may not end in divorce and have to worry about who gets what kid. i just dont. the list could go on and on. i know being a mom doesn't mean the end of my life, but i dont want that part of my life to happen for a long time. after explaining this to someone the other day, i get "well, you have to think about people other than yourself when you think about having a child, like the childs grandparents. i'm sure theyre ready for a grandchild." wow. really? thank you for telling me what my parents want. i had no idea. guess what, i'm almost 723% sure they will still be here in 7 years. the point of this ranting is that i dont think that just because you get married, means you have to start a family right away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-2167068372775523821?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2167068372775523821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/2167068372775523821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-am-skipping-day-to-talk-about.html' title='I Am Skipping A Day To Talk About Marriage And Babies.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-5587205275145256813</id><published>2010-10-31T09:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T09:17:00.824-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #12</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TMuOlbpUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZM/awzgJwRzy40/s1600/tumblr_kwry9mCyRD1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="217" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TMuOlbpUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZM/awzgJwRzy40/s320/tumblr_kwry9mCyRD1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-5587205275145256813?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5587205275145256813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/5587205275145256813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/post-secret-12.html' title='Post Secret #12'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TMuOlbpUUYI/AAAAAAAAAZM/awzgJwRzy40/s72-c/tumblr_kwry9mCyRD1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9213892538762764408</id><published>2010-10-29T09:43:00.024-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:10:15.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Story Short, I Might Cry. Day 8.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i think &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;'s like officially engaged now. buuuut i cant say for sure. i was facebook stalking byu. i know, i hit creeper mode a long time ago. and like 3 people have said congrats but she hasnt been like "oh yay! i am engaged!" hahaha! so i dunno. and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; has been texting me a lot the past few days. why do i suck so bad at life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;also, i think my Missionary may be done with me. i told him that i &lt;i&gt;dated&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; but that he was getting married to byu. and he still kinda flipped a holy biscuit. so i dont know. i mean its gonna suck but at the same time, that means i can go on dating and maybe get in another serious relationship and not feeling guilty about playing him. i know it seems like i dont feel guilty, also considering i said that i love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; more than t, but ultimately, i still care about the guy. i still love him. bahh. oh oh and! i saw that his brother scotty was outside their house today, so i went over there to ask him how to send t packages because t wont answer when i ask. but when i was there he was like "uhmm can i get his stuff back from you...?" what the french toast? why? it kind of made me mad. i am pretty sure that maybe i am just hormonal right now. i hope thats the reason.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;flip! you know what i just thought of? i am definitely supposed to hang out with that cute boy from math class next weekend. and i will be pissed if i start. dangit! i know that was too much informacion but i dont really care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;anyways. tonight was fun. i went to my familia's halloween party. i dont know why i keep throwing spanish words in here. ha! i had the best costume ever. not really, i just kind of threw something together but hey, it won me ten bucks to cafe rio. chyeah! and! i went to see saw 3d this morning with beezy. it wasnt as cool as i thought it was going to be. it wasnt super bloody which i guess is good. you saw a lot of things coming, but the end totally threw me for a loop! credit to you saw creators. ha! i may or may not be going to the howl at usu tomorrow. i dont know if i want to for sure. a. rylee will be there. which i am not okay with. she might tell t i was levi loving with some other guy. bword. 2. its just like not my scene anymore. i dont know. maybe its the fact that there will be a bunch of levi loving going on that i dont want to put myself in that situation. plus, i just want to take a weekend to chillax. i have been suuuper stressed lately. f my life. i still need to go on a vacation. honestly, it took everything i had to not get on a plane wednesday when i was dropping ariel off. guess who kept me here. hahaha. i suck.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;someone who has made your life hell. uhm for reals, i am going to say... man there are like kind of a lot of people that have made me super mad and screwed certain things up for me. but i dont think that there is anyone that has it out for me... not that i know of. freak. rylee probably. here is the thing. i dont think that just because you are family, you are required to like each other. whoever came up with that rule should be junk punched because they dont know what the scum they are talking about. in all fairness, i have probably made her life more of a living hell than she has to me. but its like, she doesnt have the "inappropriate" filter in her head. i am convinced of it. i can say and do some inappropriate things sometimes, but i do know when to knock it off and what is okay to say around certain people. not her, everything is free game. but thats not how life works. so she completely jacks up my relationship with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; for three weeks. and she almost messes things up with my Missionary. she feels like anyone who is important in my life, has to be in her life. facebook is taking over the world. seriously. so i am in a relationship with jcall on fb, yeah? as soon as that happened, ry added him. she doesnt even know him. it'd be like me adding byu. uhmm no, thats retarded. youre retarded. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;just stay out of my life. i know you have those people in your life, family or not, that you like a thousand times better when you see and associate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; every once in a while. and they arent all up in your grill all the motherflipping time. and its not even just things like that. she will call me crying and ask me for my advice and then when i give it to her, she will go against everything i just said. i am all for helping people out, i love it, i really do. but dont continually ask me if you arent going to take what i say to you even into consideration. and that. is why she has made my life hell. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9213892538762764408?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9213892538762764408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9213892538762764408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/long-story-short-i-might-cry.html' title='Long Story Short, I Might Cry. Day 8.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6660671317437801110</id><published>2010-10-25T08:50:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:08:30.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Be Scared To Be Free, To Let Go. Day 7.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;everybody knows that breaking up really is hard to do. but its not like you have one conversation to call it quits. breakups linger. there's the initial breakup which completely sucks. but then there's the exchanging of items like clothes and movies and possibly rings. sometimes even friends. if you've been together long enough, who gets what friends? is it okay to still talk to their family? how much is just right or too much? i love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;'s family. love them to death. they are the best people alive. so i go to improv with laura and she had her baby that she had to drop off to her hubby before we went. however, hubby was with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt; and the rest of the family. i find myself in a predicament. do i get out of the car and go converse with his family and tell them how much i love and miss them? or do i sit in the car and wait and have everyone think i am too afraid to go in....? how stupid is this situation? so i just had her drop me off at my car and i met her at the place we were going. i mean, i know that i could have gone in and talked the entire night away and it wouldnt have bothered anyone but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;. but its his life, his family. not mine. also, when you get broken up with, you don't really want constant reminders of the person who hurt you, even if you think you do. its taken me long enough to figure this out. ex wants to move on. but its hard to move on with the other person still there. even as "just friends." being around that person makes everything come back to life. which is why i dont fully understand why he keeps texting me... plus, you feel bad in any position, whether youre dumping someone or getting dumped. sometimes the bad you feel is really just sad or mad. either way, somethings you just have to let go. sometimes you have to throw out all the movie tickets, the stupid matching hats you got on your first date, the tshirts you slept in and just make a fresh start. i am making my fresh start this week by letting go on fbook. which is absolutely ridiculous but surprisingly helpful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt; has been off for a while, which is good. the only thing good about having him as a friend was seeing all the girls he was talking to and seeing that i am exponentially more attractive. but i still have most of his friends who i know but am not close with, like old mission companions who thought we were getting married. and his family. even his sister who i love and adore. but it just doesn't feel right. i just feel like it is time to move on. i am not going to pretend that things are good because clearly they're not. i am still super hurt and pissed and one hundred percent bothered. but i am not going to dwell. life keeps moving and i am going to keep growing and learning. at the end of every breakup, there's always the thought of how sad things are to end. but as i look at my life right now, all i see are beginnings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;someone who has made your life worth living. i am not going to say &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; or my Missionary. haha surprising, i know. my grandpa is the greatest man alive. and i love him so much. if it werent for him in my most depressing years, i honestly wouldnt be alive to be writing this right now. he let me know that i was loved, even if it was just by him(: he is just a sweet old guy who wants the best for me. he has my life planned out for me. i am supposed to go to byu and meet a returned missionary that is going to graduate with his mba. this will never happen because a. "byu" is there. and i will cut her so then they will kick me out. (its going to take some time for me to actually forget and let go ha!) and 2. i have learned that being an rm doesnt mean a thing anymore. but we will let him hope(: hahahaha anyways, i cant express to gpa how much he really means to me, but i try, and i hope he knows(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6660671317437801110?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6660671317437801110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6660671317437801110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/dont-be-scared-to-be-free-to-let-go-day.html' title='Don&apos;t Be Scared To Be Free, To Let Go. Day 7.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-6106950718367964592</id><published>2010-10-24T12:20:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:07:51.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I May Or May Not Make A Huge Mistake. Day 6.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;last january, t and i got in a ginormous fight. like it was the biggest one we had. we were still together, but we didnt see each other or talk to each other for a week. unless we absolutely had to. our fight was over &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. who would have thunk? t has this friend he worked with who went to high school with us and was in the same grade as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. so he knew about the little hookups we would have behind the seminary building. but so did t. it wasnt like i was trying to keep it a secret. anyways, we went into t's work one day and kurt was there so he and i started talking while toph was off doing whatever. we got to talking about how i was close to graduating and how he remembered&amp;nbsp; me as a little sophomore making out with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; all the time. well, apparently, t heard that part of the conversation and got pissed. like livid. t is not very good at hiding his emotions. so i knew he was mad, i just had no idea why. and he wouldnt talk to me so i was like fine, if youre not going to talk to me, i'm not gonna talk to you. a whole week. thats like an eternity when you converse and see each other every day. so finally, he texts me at like 3 in the morning and was like "i just didnt know you were still stuck on your sophomore year..." so then i get super mad because i was definitely not stuck on my sophomore year, although it was my favorite(; and i hadnt talked to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; in over a year. he is in motherflipping portugal and mad at me for our own fights we had. i dont even talk to the kid. i dont think about him or talk about him unless someone brings him up. this is the short version. this arguing lasted 2 days. so after a few days, t realizes he is being a douchepacker and that i dont have anything to do with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; anymore and life is grand. we move on and forget. last week, i got an email from t as usual. and he asked how the dating scene was. this is the first time he has asked. i think its because he thinks that i wouldnt be back in the dating game for a while. so what do i say to him? "oh yeah t, i was with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;, the guy you were so worried about me getting with, a week and a half after you left. also, we were engaged a week and a half after that..." uhm no. but i do feel like i need to be honest with him. i know its not a good idea, but its killing me. it really is. i cant go out with anyone without feeling guilty, like i am hurting him. and i know he said that it was okay for me to date other people and that it would be okay if i got married to someone else while he is gone. but A. t isnt a going to tell me that he expects me to wait for him and 2. i did everything i said i wouldnt 3 weeks later. i dont know. i cant have him holding me back. i dont want him to be worried about me, he needs to be focused on his mission. but i am terrified of losing my best friend, even if that is all he is. but maybe i would feel differently if he were actually right in front of me. because thats how it is with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. i can go three weeks without seeing, talking, hearing from him and be fine. the second i see him and smell him, everything comes back. i want to tell him that i dated &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. not that i was engaged, just that we were in a serious relationship. maybe i should also tell him that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; is getting married in 6 months... that might help. you know what, it doesnt even matter. because i just need to say goodbye. for the time being. i never thought i would do this to him. ever. scum. maybe i just wont say anything...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;something you hope you never have to do. ha! funny thing actually. i dont ever want to break someone's heart. i dont ever want to do to someone what was done to me. it sucks. and i wouldnt want that to happen to anyone else. i dont want to have to bury my own children. i dont want to have to bury anyone for that matter. no one goes until i do. i hope i never have to file bankruptcy and that i will always have enough, even its it just enough to survive. there are probably a gazillion more things but i cant think of any thing else right now haha(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-6106950718367964592?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6106950718367964592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/6106950718367964592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-may-or-may-not-make-huge-mistake-day.html' title='I May Or May Not Make A Huge Mistake. Day 6.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-1081585034497389691</id><published>2010-10-24T01:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T01:26:14.162-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Secret #11</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TMPfkBpsk3I/AAAAAAAAAZI/jMb85_avCQc/s1600/tumblr_l7bvcl7qcM1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="216" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TMPfkBpsk3I/AAAAAAAAAZI/jMb85_avCQc/s320/tumblr_l7bvcl7qcM1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-1081585034497389691?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1081585034497389691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/1081585034497389691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/post-secret-11.html' title='Post Secret #11'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fh8MN-i3yDQ/TMPfkBpsk3I/AAAAAAAAAZI/jMb85_avCQc/s72-c/tumblr_l7bvcl7qcM1qzcpcqo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8727662246207009288</id><published>2010-10-23T23:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T21:09:26.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Halloween So Much. Day 5.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;last night i went to nightmare on thirteenth and nightmare mansion in salt lake with laura(: yay! it was so fun! scary, but fun! haha i am the biggest baby there ever was when it comes to scary things, but i love the adrenaline rush(: haha so go! its a good time. howl this weekend? i think so(:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;something you hope to do in your life. oh land. i have no idea. there are like a million things i want to do in my life. honestly, numero uno thing that would make my life complete is to be on the amazing race! seriously, how fun would that be!? you get to travel all over the place and see things that you normally wouldnt be able to. and youre playing a game that could result in lots of money! haha i think it would be a blast. i just want to travel. all over. i just decided i am never getting married. i want to be able to pick up and leave and go wherever i want, whenever i want without having to worry about anything else. just pick up and go to australia. or africa. or even just somewhere in the states just to get away. thats what i hope to do in my life. travel everywhere i have ever wanted to go(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8727662246207009288?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8727662246207009288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8727662246207009288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-love-halloween-so-much-day-5.html' title='I Love Halloween So Much. Day 5.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8430403172043913655</id><published>2010-10-22T09:50:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T00:32:46.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes The Hardest Thing And The Right Thing Are The Same. Day 4.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;i have writers block. and i am not even a writer. i just... dont know what to say? i dont have anything to say. i have said everything i could. i should definitely be in a temple right now. and i am not. i am sitting on the couch in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;'s deca shirt with smeared make up on my face and my hair in a mess on top of my head. i kinda of feel numb. thats the best thing i can come up with ha. i should have known that it wasnt going to last when we picked the day. for some reason, the "worst things" that could happen in my life happen on october 22. haha 2 years ago, t and i got in a huge fight about the ex and i broke up with him. it was like 4 hours while i cried, but still. it was huge. i waited forever to get with the kid and just to have it end a few months into it. over some elephant that was completely irrelevant to our lives. and then last year, we got in another fight because i was going behind his back and drinking and things when i shouldnt have. and i lied to him about it. and! he was trying to get out there on his mission and we are teenagers with raging hormones... ha! so he broke up with me. for a good two weeks. the first day sucked, but after that, i was just like mehh whatever. he'll come back. and he totally did. i honestly think thats why i have such a hard time playing the game with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;. because he plays it so differently. it doesnt matter anymore though. it is what it is. and i am single and not married. at one point, i told &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt; i couldnt live without him... but hey, here i am still living. i'll be okay. both t and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt; did what they had to because they felt it was right. and i am not going to question (to their face) why they feel that being with me is wrong. but they did. and i know that not being with me for both of these boys was extremely hard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;that sounds cocky, but i dont mean it that way at all. the hardest thing about  growing up is that you have to do what is right for you. even if it means  breaking someones heart, including your own. the other day i asked &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt; why it was hard for him when he wasnt the one that got his heart broken. he broke his own heart. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;something you have to forgive someone for.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;honestly, i dont know. there hasnt been a whole lot happen in my short life that i feel like someone has done me wrong that i have to forgive them for. i just cry about it and then let it go. i forgive j-sack for breaking up with me on my 16th birthday. i forgive hanky for spreading rumors about me in high school. i forgive jessii for telling people that i cheated on t when i didnt. i forgive &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; for making me rearrange my life and then destroying those plans. twice. i forgive rylee for getting involved where she didnt need to and ruining my relationship with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;. and almost killing the one i have with t. i forgive t's mom and sister for intentionally ignoring me and saying stupid ish to t about me. i mean do you see how ridiculous these are? haha i guess the ones i really have to forgive and forget about are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; and rylee. but i dont know how long its going to take me to get over those ones. obviously more than 5 months hahaha. but whatever. lets see what happens today... its going to be good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8430403172043913655?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8430403172043913655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8430403172043913655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/sometimes-hardest-thing-and-right-thing.html' title='Sometimes The Hardest Thing And The Right Thing Are The Same. Day 4.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-8351303258885563135</id><published>2010-10-21T09:09:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T12:05:55.404-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate My Morning Breath Right Now. Day 3.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;why? because i totally macked on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt; last night. and it was so intense that i came home and crashed. but this is it. that was the last time i will ever kiss him. ever. and it sucks. he chose byu. and i'm not surprised. but it still hurts to hear. he told me that once i got a boyfriend, we could double date. this = the worst idea &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt; has ever come up with. hahaha. i dunno. i think i am feeling better about everything now. things are moving forward and i realize that as much as i want to keep him for myself, even as "just friends," i cant. i have to let him go. and i love him enough to do it. because who wants to be just friends through phones or email or fb or whatever? just friends can hang out, right? not us. when we are just friends, we kiss and hold and flirt and shower (not naked, i swear) and love. we cant do that anymore. i love you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;. and i'm sorry. i'll always be your "sweatheart." hahaha i promise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;(:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;something you have to forgive yourself for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;this couldnt have come at a better time ha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; is super hard on himself. like he pushes himself to the limit on everything. whether it be good or bad. when we were talking last night, he said that he felt like the worst person alive. that he wasnt the person he thought he should be right now. and i completely blame myself. he was a good boy before we got together. and thennn we kinda messed up. and then we kept messing up. and then he would be irritated and angry all the time because nothing would get fixed as much as we [I] tried. we continued to be stupid. this is kind of lame, i know. but its the same reason t had to wait 6 months before he could go on his mission. its the same reason &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; and i fought before he left. i am a huge, fat temptation. and i beat myself up for it all the time. if i would have had some self control, t would be home in less than a year. and not 16 months. if i didnt have such great kissing abilities and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; didnt want to kiss all the time, we probably would have been married. sooner than tomorrow. and honestly, i feel horrible. horrible that i put t's life on hold. horrible that i made &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 78%;"&gt;Ex-Squeeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; break super serious covenants. but after our conversation last night, i dont feel like i have to take full responsibility for what has happened. it takes two. i do have to forgive myself for my part though. its been riding on me for the past year. seriously, a year tomorrow. i've done what i need to as far as repenting goes, the rest is out of my hands. i have to let it go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-8351303258885563135?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8351303258885563135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/8351303258885563135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-hate-my-morning-breath-right-now-day.html' title='I Hate My Morning Breath Right Now. Day 3.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4455280975251428240.post-9159856218934158651</id><published>2010-10-20T02:00:00.013-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T00:34:14.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love That I Could Write 100 More Things And Not Feel Cocky. Day 2.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;something you love about yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; alright, lets do this.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i have confidence in myself.&lt;br /&gt;i love my amazing hair.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i can help solve other people's problems.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that my best friends have been guys.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm awesome at my job. they love me there.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm good at research.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i can write a paper an hour before its due and ace it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i know the difference between homonyms and how to use them correctly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i am spunky.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i am funny.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i can make people laugh when they're angry.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i can make myself laugh.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i have excellent facebook stalking skills.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm friends with my mommacita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i know how to do my make up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love my big teeth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i have got kissing down to an art.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i make the best damn cookies ever.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i take a thousand pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i can memorize a song the first time i hear it.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i can throw my whole heart into something even when i've been disappointed before.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm a good listener and people tell me things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i lack dancing skills. except in the car.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i am the best car singer in the world.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i have had the chance to have a crazy, intense, super passionate love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt; i love that i can be super inappropriate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i dont care that i am.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i think things through.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm flexible.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i am willing to learn. &lt;br /&gt;i love that i am willing to change. &lt;br /&gt;i love that i want to be a better person. &lt;br /&gt;i love that i am incredibly smart. really, i am.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i still love some people even after all the ish people do.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i read books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i am not easily offended.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that guys check me out even when they are with their girlfriends. that sounds terrible, but its really funny. &lt;br /&gt;i love that i say what i want.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i love the book better than the movies.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i can win burping contests with any guy.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm almost always sarcastic.&lt;br /&gt;i love the way my body looks naked.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i am open minded.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i'm stubborn.&lt;br /&gt;i love that i am honest.&lt;br /&gt;i love that people like to be around me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;i love that i dont hate me anymore(: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4455280975251428240-9159856218934158651?l=ashleealis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9159856218934158651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4455280975251428240/posts/default/9159856218934158651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ashleealis.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-love-that-i-could-write-100-more.html' title='I Love That I Could Write 100 More Things And Not Feel Cocky. Day 2.'/><author><name>Ashlee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16429776326258462605</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ishk1nWl9qA/Tb3o0PzAr2I/AAAAAAAAAqQ/qaPMKIE4XKM/s220/ad.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
