<?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-1501363931423244639</id><updated>2011-10-15T03:50:16.295-04:00</updated><title type='text'>People Creepier Than Me in D.C.</title><subtitle type='html'>Hi- Im a dorky auditor who works long hours and rides a lot of D.C. public transit. THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING- People who ride D.C. public transit are CREEPY. We're talking creepier than your creepiest uncle. So- I promise to be the new Harriet the Spy of the D.C. public transit system from this day forward. Stories, the occasional secretive cell phone pic, and maybe some minor details from my secret notebook will be shared. STAY TUNNED! *Step back, doors closing*</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1501363931423244639.post-5704045305063630318</id><published>2010-07-18T18:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T18:35:53.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>oh hi again....</title><content type='html'>OH...Hey there. It's me, your faithful ginger friend who promised to write this blog....and by write I mean more than once a month. SORRY FOLKS. Just so you know I haven't been sitting on my arse eating bon bons. There has been a lot going on in my life as of recently. My bfffffff for life, pinky swear, cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye (Susan)&amp;nbsp;got married at the end of June. It was a fabulous affair and she was beautiful! Note her gorgeousness below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TENzX_ioX8I/AAAAAAAAACY/HAPVjWQMA74/s1600/susan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TENzX_ioX8I/AAAAAAAAACY/HAPVjWQMA74/s320/susan.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Maid of Honor (Ahemmmm:Me) &amp;amp; Stunning Bride&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This picture below is a great example of that entire weekend: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TENz43BYsYI/AAAAAAAAACg/WfUInejBbtE/s1600/susan1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TENz43BYsYI/AAAAAAAAACg/WfUInejBbtE/s320/susan1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Wrangling of the bride.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;BUT it was fun and fabulous and I cried more than I have in years. Now more about me and why I have been neglecting this here bloggy blog. OHHH&amp;nbsp;..........&amp;nbsp;I got engaged!!!! Yes- I know you're thinking to yourself...someone wants to marry this ginger? Yep...poor guy...I guess he really doesn't know what he is getting himself in to. Prayers welcome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;AND THEN...my other partner in crime Sarah got married in early July. So basically my summer has been hopping from one wedding to the next with a few bachelorette parties thrown in occasionally for good measure.&amp;nbsp;Note hot classy girls below.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TEN1srPJZAI/AAAAAAAAACo/Lqz9JUHFIZs/s1600/sarah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="224" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TEN1srPJZAI/AAAAAAAAACo/Lqz9JUHFIZs/s400/sarah.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Yes! It's true! Us Powhatan girls do clean up quite nicely! =)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;At Sarah's wedding I brought along the fiance' and we danced and he won people over with his Cotton Eyed Joe line dance. Needless to say the people he 'won over' were hammered and from Powhatan...aka...easy to please. Nevertheless we had a great time eating the from the smashed potato bar, drinking beer from koozies, and pretending to do the electric slide. With this rounding out 2 of the 4 weddings I am attending this summer, I better know how do do the damn electric slide by the end....problem is...I am always too drunk to remember the steps even if someone tries to legitimately teach me how to do it. Oh well...I'll eventually learn it in a retirement home I guess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Side note...I referred to the 'Cuban Suffle' as the "Urban Shuffle' at Sarah's wedding. Yeah- I probably shouldn't be allowed to go out in public because I am an idiot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;HENCE people why I have been severely neglecting this here blog. Oh and also, I forgot to mention that for the past week I was forced to work out in Germantown, MD. Does that ring a bell to you? Yeah-It should. BECAUSE there was a GD earthquake there last Friday. I woke up that morning and turned on the news and was like HELL YEAH I don't have to go to work today!!! Then I remembered I was supposed to work from the office and then seriously started to worry that my employer was trying to kill me....Sending me to the F-ing epicenter of an earthquake. Thanks KPMG. Way to try to axe me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;BUT needless to say I HATE the state of Maryland. I would now like to compile a list of reasons why:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Residents of Maryland=WORST drivers ever. Living in the DC metro area, we take driving very seriously. On several occasions I've gone home to Powhatan and someone has been terrified of the amazing driving skills I've&amp;nbsp;acquired while living in our nations capital. PLUS my little buggy bug can go anywhere and I take full advantage of that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Maryland=so small and dumb. Really Maryland...I get it...You can make an F-ing crab cake. But guess what...Virginia is wayyyyyy better. We have more of the Chesapeake Bay than you do and we are way more beautiful and majestic. You have Baltimore. Way to go...murder capital of the east coast. Score&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;EARTHQUAKE....Read above. I could have died. Thanks Maryland. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;And then this weekend I went with my friend Fran and Ashley to attempt to see Despicable Me at Tysons Corner. HORRIBLE IDEA. I haven't been to Tysons Corner since I was in high school. What impressed me then was probably the proximity of Claire's to Icing and other nic nac stores. Lets just say Saturday night I wanted to kill myself. First off...the movie we wanted to see was sold out so we had to wait another hour to see a movie we weren't really psyched about (Grown Ups-actually turned out pretty funny.) Meanwhile I felt I was in the middle of a F-ing Twilight movie with all the tween angst that was going on at that mall. They were everywhere. It was totally creepy, probably&amp;nbsp;because kids scare me.&amp;nbsp;I also noted how many different types of people I saw there. Blacks, asians, latinos, whites, different religions, pierced, etc. I started thinking to myself...these kids are growing up so differently than I did. In my&amp;nbsp;town you were either black or white, that's it. Living near a real place actually makes you see how many different types of people there are in the world. It is pretty interesting. Either way I wish all these people wouldn't send their mangy tweens to Tysons on a Saturday night. I wanted to see Despicable Me at 9:35pm on a Saturday night. Those little shits should be in bed! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Well anyways. In the next couple of weeks I'm moving to Rosslyn. I fear this blog will suffer as I am moving minutes from Georgtown (where the pretty and rich&amp;nbsp;people frolic)&amp;nbsp;and basically a zip line's ride from DC. BUT I know there will be creepy people everywhere for me to document so this blog will not suffer. I PROMISE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Lots of LOVE!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;P.S. My skank friend Emily started a blog. She is trying to kick Marie Osmond's ass at Nutrisystem. Check it out:::::&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://bigbuttbride.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://bigbuttbride.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1501363931423244639-5704045305063630318?l=peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/5704045305063630318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/07/oh-hi-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/5704045305063630318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/5704045305063630318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/07/oh-hi-again.html' title='oh hi again....'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TENzX_ioX8I/AAAAAAAAACY/HAPVjWQMA74/s72-c/susan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1501363931423244639.post-735420501333521901</id><published>2010-06-16T09:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T09:12:18.801-04:00</updated><title type='text'>shiver me timbers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So it's another steamy day in Washington D.C. On my metro ride home this evening&amp;nbsp;I was extremely exhausted. Why, you ask? Oh because I spent 3 hours at the glorious Arlington Urgent Care last night&amp;nbsp;so the doctor could spend 5 minutes telling me I had a sinus infection that I was aware of a week ago. AWESOME....so at 11pm &amp;nbsp;the Doc finally writes me a prescription for antibiotics, which I also knew I needed a week ago. Her receptionist then gives me some ass backwards directions to the only 24 hour pharmacy in Arlington. I'm thinking to myself- this can't take too long to get a prescription filled at 11pm...no one will be there...BOY was I wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walk inside the CVS on Lee Hwy and the entire Pharmacy section is going under an extreme renovation. There are 400 pound plumbers cracks EVERYWHERE. I had never seen these type of people in Arlington and&amp;nbsp;immediately&amp;nbsp;started having flashbacks to my hometown. Apparently they only let these&amp;nbsp;people come out after midnight around these parts.These guys were ripping up carpet,&amp;nbsp;chainsawing medal shelving, all while finding loose pills all over the floor of the pharmacy AND threatening to take them. oooo Yeah! Did I mention they all had about 10 teeth in their head?? Yeah-awesome way to spend a Monday night, right? &amp;nbsp;Chillin with Americas Most Wanted at the CVS. Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The employees&amp;nbsp;of this pharmacy are all in a tizzy because they're&amp;nbsp;still open during these remodeling conditions. It is a bit hectic....but guess who doesn't give a damn? THIS GINGER. I&amp;nbsp;am cranky, sick,&amp;nbsp;and hungry because my dinner consisted of Cheeze-its from the Urgent Care vending machine....and not to mention its getting close to midnight and I'm not&amp;nbsp;in the mood to deal with this bullshit. I give the man my prescription and go get a snickers bar because if I don't eat something I may go postal on these pharmacy employees. I thought this wouldn't take too long- boy I was wrong! This place was an F-ing circus. The sound of medal being sawed in the background almost made me crack. The only thing keeping me sane was the fact that I need this medicine so I didn't look like&amp;nbsp;I was full of mucus&amp;nbsp;at my bff's wedding this Saturday. Also, the other people getting their prescriptions filled at midnight are also extreme creepers. Most of them were either high or drunk or both. By the time I get home its midnight and my apartment is hot as hell (see previous post for horrendous a.c. issues.) I pass out, wake up and barley make it to work on time after 6 hours of sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say I'm exhausted by the time I get off work this afternoon. I hop on the musky metro for my return home. I'm tired, but I realize I haven't posted to this blog in a while so I'm on the look out for creepers...And whadaya know??? I see a man with a....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TBgTSPyHRuI/AAAAAAAAABw/YLw5b-RSHY0/s1600/hook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TBgTSPyHRuI/AAAAAAAAABw/YLw5b-RSHY0/s320/hook.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;HOOK!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;This guy didn't look as cool as the above pic, but he did amaze me. He came complete with cowboy hat and plastic flower pinned to his suite. I hoped to see the flower shoot water in some passerby's eye, but no such luck. Why you ask do I not have a picture of this D.C. pirate? Well I'm a pretty ballsy ginger but I'm not about to F with someone with a hook. I didn't want him make me walk the plank.....aka the metro platform. ARRGGHHH! His hook hand was his left hand so I figured he was probably right handed and barely noticed the other one missing. I wondered if he slept with that thing? I'm pretty sure I would poke my eyeball out in the middle of the night, so I doubt it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well that's all for now my minions....Also, if you enjoy this here bloggy blog, please click this little FOLLOW button here to the right. I like pimping out my followers. THANKS!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Also, check out this blog if you hate D.C. metro&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://unsuckdcmetro.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://unsuckdcmetro.blogspot.com/&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/1501363931423244639-735420501333521901?l=peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/735420501333521901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/06/shiver-me-timbers.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/735420501333521901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/735420501333521901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/06/shiver-me-timbers.html' title='shiver me timbers'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TBgTSPyHRuI/AAAAAAAAABw/YLw5b-RSHY0/s72-c/hook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1501363931423244639.post-4646886574779273546</id><published>2010-06-04T08:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T08:52:02.134-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the air up there</title><content type='html'>Sooo, I don't know if you have noticed, but it's starting to get a bit hot outside.....like stifling hot....like so hot my freckles are starting to connect. Oh- and by the way, did I mention DC was built on an F-ing swamp???? Yeah...I live in a GD swamp people. A SWAMP.&amp;nbsp;I should have really read up on that minor detail before I moved my entire life up here. Fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know its starting to get bad when its hot in the morning before you go to work. In recent developments, I've also been so lucky as to have my air conditioning break at my apartment. SERIOUSLY??? Yes, everyone clearly&amp;nbsp;wishes they could be me at this point....freckle-connecting ginger, sweating to death morning, noon, and night. Even at noon, you ask? YES NOON, because the audit room&amp;nbsp;I have been forced to live out the rest of&amp;nbsp;what remains of my dieing youth&amp;nbsp;was originally designated for storage. Yes, you heard correctly, STORAGE.&amp;nbsp;Instead we have crammed&amp;nbsp;6 human beings, 7 computers, and 2 massive printers- a bonafied accounting circus.&amp;nbsp;Similar to how many clowns can fit in a car, yet not nearly as entertaining.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;But seriously this closet I work in was originally intended for boxes, crates, and other valid wastes of tax payer money.The guy from the property management even suggested some fans.YES, I would love to sit in this room with the funk of 5 other people circulating around me. Problem solved. Its new nickname is Cell block 4, however I'm pretty sure jail cells were intended for human use.....our quaint little hole-in-the-wall, not so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY, OKAY! I'll bring this little rant back around to public transit. Soooo, it's me circra 7:30ish in the morning, I'm waiting for the bus in the sweltering heat and my hair barely dried. Because every girl (or guy with disgustingly long hair) knows that there is nothing more miserable than blow drying your hair when it's hot as Hades in your apartment.&amp;nbsp;Awesome.&amp;nbsp;Synopsis-&amp;nbsp;I basically look like a wet cat in business casual. I'm hot, and I know I'm going to continue to be hot for the rest of the day in my musty audit room (picture a&amp;nbsp;Soviet&amp;nbsp;prison camp)......I'm grumpy, if you will. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;until I see this little gem.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TAhfS3zqtRI/AAAAAAAAABg/qoPE6BuRVtM/s1600/0602000720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TAhfS3zqtRI/AAAAAAAAABg/qoPE6BuRVtM/s400/0602000720.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;1. rhinestone cowboy briefcase&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;2. one long African tribal earring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;3. basketball, yo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Now this guy makes me giggle......and also concerned that he possibly lives near me. It's all fun and games until the creepy ones get on and off at your stop.....Why heidely-ho, neighborino!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always like to create a little story in my mind about what these creepsters may be up to. I think its mainly to keep myself sane as to why someone could possibly have a western inspired briefcase AND a basketball....all at 7:30am. This man, clearly fresh off the boat from somewhere, has obviously got a very important meeting on a ranch followed by a round of hoops with some African world leader. I'm intrigued where he&amp;nbsp;plans on doing this in&amp;nbsp;our native swampland...aka...nation's capital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first image that flashed into my head was this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TAhiB6m8TiI/AAAAAAAAABo/H_NT3dOlUsE/s1600/air_up_there.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TAhiB6m8TiI/AAAAAAAAABo/H_NT3dOlUsE/s320/air_up_there.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;'The Air Up There' circa 1994&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;This is a great movie! Correction- it was when I was 8, so that's really not a valid claim at all. I hope this western wear enthusiast at my bus stop is&amp;nbsp;a basketball legend&amp;nbsp;somewhere in&amp;nbsp;Kenya. Until&amp;nbsp;I need his autograph&amp;nbsp;I'll steer clear of the neighborhood courts....and keep my doors locked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1501363931423244639-4646886574779273546?l=peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/4646886574779273546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/06/air-up-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/4646886574779273546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/4646886574779273546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/06/air-up-there.html' title='the air up there'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/TAhfS3zqtRI/AAAAAAAAABg/qoPE6BuRVtM/s72-c/0602000720.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1501363931423244639.post-3250923305348234976</id><published>2010-05-25T09:10:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T13:15:23.979-04:00</updated><title type='text'>fake ging</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So, I'm a ginger. It's a pretty sweet life, especially because I'm a good looking one. BUT bad thing is...I wasn't always this smoking hot. My gingy self went through several awkward stages....we're talking pale, chubby, freckly, and gangily arms and legs. Lets just say middle school was a rough time period in my life....Okay so back to my point- Why would anyone choose to be a fake ginger??? It baffles me. It takes some thick skin to walk around with this blazing stuff atop your head. You basically can wear: green and brown. AWESOME. Ya know what green and brown remind me of? Basically poop and boogers. SWEET LIFE. You have to avoid the sun or you will literally die. I was that kid running around the beach in a full t shirt with my bathing suit underneath coated in head to toe SPF 75 sunscreen, which had to be re-applied every 30 minutes. Can you fathom having to wear a t-shirt over your bathing suit that is covered inside and out with sand all day at the blazing hot beach??? UGH MISERABLE. THANKS MOM.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can tell I have some pent up anger stemming from this&amp;nbsp;hellatious childhood I had. Why you may ask are we talking about gingers again?? OK OK back to the story and how this relates to DC public transit.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Friday, I saw two fake gingys on the bus. TWO on ONE bus. Crazy? I know. I feared I would be struck by lightning- which was totally plausible in that metal lunchbox on wheels. Both of them had hair that was so orange I was convinced it was dyed with a Kool Aid packet (that's orange drink, for Fran.)&amp;nbsp;I could only capture a picture of one of the&amp;nbsp;fake gingys&amp;nbsp;from the crows nest. I'm sad I missed the other one because she had this super awesome cat-lady purse with actual colorful cats on it. I'm surprised it wasn't packed full of&amp;nbsp; food, treats, and toys for the like 17+ cats she has at home. But sorry for building up your anticipation, here is the fake ginger I documented:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_npRlODmUI/AAAAAAAAABY/EEg9pnlyULY/s1600/bus.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_npRlODmUI/AAAAAAAAABY/EEg9pnlyULY/s320/bus.1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Fake gingy in natural habitat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Scientific name: Wannabe-est Gingi-est. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Is this picture blurry you ask? No this women's hair actually resembled that of a troll. Like the oranged haired ones you get around Halloween-time. I was concerned for her and her decision making skills. Who decides to be a fake ginger? I mean the only complements you get are from men born&amp;nbsp;circa 1912. "Ya know you have the prettiest red hair. Just like my wife used to have." AWESOME, My hair color was popular a century ago, circa dinosaur time. FML. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well good luck to these two fake gingys. I wish them well. May they experience the pain and torment I have had my entire life. I'll just consider them creepy for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1501363931423244639-3250923305348234976?l=peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/3250923305348234976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/05/fake-ging.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/3250923305348234976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/3250923305348234976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/05/fake-ging.html' title='fake ging'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_npRlODmUI/AAAAAAAAABY/EEg9pnlyULY/s72-c/bus.1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1501363931423244639.post-3901691852722543222</id><published>2010-05-20T22:30:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T22:53:40.907-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bus driver....high on life.....</title><content type='html'>So this morning I rush out the door, dressed all professionally with my rainbows on and my stilettos in my bag (my boss thinks these shoes&amp;nbsp;I can barley walk in are fabulous by the way, but that's only because she herself wears stripper shoes on a daily basis.) I'm on my street at the point where I can visibly see my bus stop and yep...there she goes...the damn bus I usually take...zooming off into the distance without my ginger self. SHUCKS. Some would say...why didn't you run after the bus, ya know..try and flag it down? UMMM NO. I will never run after a bus,&amp;nbsp;EVER in my life. Its on&amp;nbsp;my very short&amp;nbsp;list of things I refuse to do. Have you ever seen anyone look remotely attractive while&amp;nbsp;RUNNING&amp;nbsp;after public transit? Nope---didn't think so. So I chill at the bus stop looking like a hood rat in my rainbows and Ann Taylor Loft ensemble. I grab the paper, jam out to Ke$ha on my i-pod, you know, the usual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple buses later here comes&amp;nbsp;my bus. Score. I pick a seat usually on the elevated section near the back. It used to do this because it was farthest&amp;nbsp;seat away&amp;nbsp;from the old people, babies and people with carts, but now that I am writing this blog it gives me an ample viewing platform. I call it the creepster crow's nest, please see below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_XuMJo282I/AAAAAAAAAAw/NhKAAyAzKbw/s1600/bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_XuMJo282I/AAAAAAAAAAw/NhKAAyAzKbw/s320/bus.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So&amp;nbsp;I'm just chilling reading my massive CPA study book that I like to carry around with me due to the fact that it's the size of a GD phonebook, and thus eludes to me being smart...Illusion, baha!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;As I'm highlighting away I notice that this bus driver is awful friendly with EVERYONE. I, being not the most chipper person in the morning, can barley squeeze out a 'good morning' as&amp;nbsp;I swipe my SMART card&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;and get raped by the DC PT system again. A buck thirty five sets a sister back, OKAY! I gots bills and&amp;nbsp;mouths to&amp;nbsp;feed.&amp;nbsp;Shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so before I get into this next part, Id like to give a little background on my bus route....Those of you not from DC or Arlington, just pay attention, Ill get to my point eventually. My bus does this little 'trick' where it merges onto Washington Blvd right in front of Ft. Myer every day. OKAY- Washington Blvd is not like some gravel road...its a major F-ing highway. OHHH and did&amp;nbsp;I mention&amp;nbsp;the merge lane doesn't really exist, so its more like the bus just trys to haul ass onto the highway in the middle of DC rush hour traffic. So basically I am in this metal lunchbox that goes from 0-60 in ohhh say..10 minutes, 'darting' out into traffic. I literally think I am going to die every single morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So about the time we approach this death trap,&amp;nbsp;I mean merge zone, the bus driver ANNOUNCES that he either wants us to sing 'we can do it,' or chant 50 to encourage our metal lunchbox onto this raging highway....(because our main goal is to reach hwy 50 which takes us to the city)....THEN PROCEEDS to lead the bus in a chant...'50, 50, 50....' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, people are actually doing this.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF bus driver...It is 7:30 the the GD morning dude. Have you lost your F-ing mind??? The glares from the snobs of Arlington were priceless. I guess he was trying to get the bus as pumped up for the day as he was...however, people reading the Post and cracking out on their crackberry were not amused.&amp;nbsp; I just found it ultra creepy and material for this here bloggy blog....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, if you aren't busy check out this website my mom sent me: &lt;a href="http://shitmykidsruined.com/"&gt;shitmykidsruined.com&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; Thanks mom....I think..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1501363931423244639-3901691852722543222?l=peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/3901691852722543222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/05/singingchanting-bus-driverno-reallyit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/3901691852722543222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/3901691852722543222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/05/singingchanting-bus-driverno-reallyit.html' title='Bus driver....high on life.....'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_XuMJo282I/AAAAAAAAAAw/NhKAAyAzKbw/s72-c/bus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1501363931423244639.post-1232756157487315237</id><published>2010-05-18T23:51:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T08:21:37.320-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Swan Maker takes blog's v-card</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;So it’s a fact, DC PT is CREEPY! Creepy enough that tonight - May 18th, 2010 I have decided to write a blog about it. I think actually my roommates are really tired of hearing about the nutjobs I observe on a daily basis, so I am resorting to writing about it in this blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;I live in Arlington.....well Ballston.....well....let’s just say far enough from the Ballston metro that no one speaks English. There’s this sweet bus line that takes me from my apartment in Tijuana to Downtown D.C.--We're talking right in the middle of Midwestern touristville. White House, Museums, Verizon Center- the works. (I am not going to mention&amp;nbsp;the bus number because my mom will get all Nancy&amp;nbsp;Grace on my ass....She's already asked me if my name was going to be linked to this blog-'NO mom, just my social security&amp;nbsp;#, address, and mother's maiden name.......UGH')&amp;nbsp;So I take this bus every morning and also every night unless I work past 7pm, because the line stops after 7pm. Apparently some folks aren't slaves to their job......aka get off at quittin' time-5pm. If I work after 7pm I take the metro and then a bus back to good old Tijuana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;ANYWAYS- so the man that inspired this entire blog writing shenanigan sat right beside me on the bus this evening. He plopped down right beside me and began working feverishly at something....At first I disregarded his antics, as I am fully aware of the jokers that ride this bus on a daily basis. I sneaked a peek to see what he is doing. He is folding pieces of paper together. I continue to be all Harriet the Spy- like and watch him from the corner of my eye - while I text my friend Fran, who I’m sorry to say has been texted , in detail, every time I encounter something creepy on DC PT. My first inclination was that this dude was making one of those paper fortune tellers-like remember from the 5th grade? Yeah-Sorry you picked blue-Your going to marry the kid with the lazy eye. DANG IT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;So moral of the story is...this guy wasn't making a paper fortune teller, but, yep that’s right people, PAPER SWANS....I found this odd...as he didn't look Asian to me....After his first paper swan he proceeded on swan # 2 (that’s numero dos in Spanish!)...I don't know why I found this non Asian feverishly making paper swans weird-For him it must have been &amp;nbsp;a regular Tuesday night- kicking back, making my swans on the bus to&amp;nbsp;Mexico City.&amp;nbsp;After two seats in a row freed up he moved…I guess I was taking up valuable swan folding elbow space. SORRY …geeeez!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Well thank you swan maker for taking my blogging v-card. Creeper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1501363931423244639-1232756157487315237?l=peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/feeds/1232756157487315237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/05/ode-to-swan-maker.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/1232756157487315237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1501363931423244639/posts/default/1232756157487315237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peoplecreepierthanmeindc.blogspot.com/2010/05/ode-to-swan-maker.html' title='Swan Maker takes blog&apos;s v-card'/><author><name>People Creepier THAN ME in D.C.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04098727367357723467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_34gU3rllcMg/S_gtXgJILOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/NZTSP49dslk/S220/mail.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
