<?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-6698199391120081177</id><updated>2011-08-03T14:35:15.477-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life In a Shell...just not a nut shell.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-4378781195791433164</id><published>2009-06-23T07:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T07:30:40.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Buffy + Edward = O-Mazing.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R_QEOwJ0pKA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R_QEOwJ0pKA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-4378781195791433164?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/4378781195791433164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=4378781195791433164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4378781195791433164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4378781195791433164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/06/buffy-edward-o-mazing.html' title='Buffy + Edward = O-Mazing.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-4580425691875378606</id><published>2009-06-01T08:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T08:57:49.142-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Swoon.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dwnidftwZ_M&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dwnidftwZ_M&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-4580425691875378606?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/4580425691875378606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=4580425691875378606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4580425691875378606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4580425691875378606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/06/swoon.html' title='Swoon.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-8491690133529608681</id><published>2009-05-22T10:59:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T14:53:40.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My second boyfriend takes the American Idol title.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb2_eB2u_I/AAAAAAAAAEk/Z9cLOWZUjLk/s1600-h/krisallenwonwtf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb2_eB2u_I/AAAAAAAAAEk/Z9cLOWZUjLk/s320/krisallenwonwtf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338725978547338226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When this season of American Idol kicked off, I took a brief break from the imaginary relationships I conduct in my head with my beloved second boyfriends John Krasinski and Rob Pattinson, and decided to make room in my heart for the stinkin' cuteness of Kris Allen. Before I get this blog going and join the masses of internet bloggers who will throw their literary two cents into the supposed "Idol finale upset," I need to take a moment to pay homage to the fashion train wreck that was Queen Latifah's black body suit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb3DT71RsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/1c-aCYzJfI4/s1600-h/queen-latifah_catsuit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb3DT71RsI/AAAAAAAAAEs/1c-aCYzJfI4/s320/queen-latifah_catsuit.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338726044557199042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I'm not that only one who thinks that Adam Lambert could have rocked that outfit with a fierceness that rivals any female I know. My vote for the luckiest person in the room during that performance? Scott MacIntyre. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the Queen Latifah/Lil Round's duet and Rod Stewart's awkward trip over the microphone cord (when I say "trip over the microphone cord," I also mean Rod Stewart's entire performance), the show itself was incredibly entertaining. Even for Glenn who willingly offered to withstand the countless busy signals and cast his vote for Kris Allen the night before. (That's love right there.) The Black Eyed Peas actually got me to like their "Boom Boom Pow" song which I had earlier detested due to many Saturdays at Self Essentials spent listening to that song in heavy rotation on 92 pro FM. The dancers adorned in black and white body suits really added to the performance. I'm a sucker for the extra visuals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb3NyguRYI/AAAAAAAAAE0/71Z6d_tJEQ8/s1600-h/american-idol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb3NyguRYI/AAAAAAAAAE0/71Z6d_tJEQ8/s320/american-idol.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338726224563684738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also enjoyed Adam's duet with Kiss. Glenn and I were a bit perplexed at first by Adam's unique choice of shoulder pads. Then we realized it was the glitterized Adam Lambert version of a Kiss costume (also adorned by Lady Gaga days earlier, at least according to Perez Hilton). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb9SYmGdNI/AAAAAAAAAE8/YHbMx4n5nlk/s1600-h/adam.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb9SYmGdNI/AAAAAAAAAE8/YHbMx4n5nlk/s320/adam.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338732900576031954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Queen performance was equally as epic and it only led me to think that American Idol is the only place where Queen, Kiss, Rod Stewart, Cindi Lauper, Keith Urban and Steve Martin can share the same stage and it all just &lt;em&gt;works&lt;/em&gt;. I realize that many people are quick to criticize American Idol, assuming the show promotes a certain narrow minded music mentality. However, I firmly believe American Idol exposes all generations (young and old) to different types of music. If anything, American Idol delivers musical diversity to a crowd of viewers who may not have ventured away from their musical comfort zones. Sure, you'll never see an indie rock band or underground hip hop group on the Idol stage but as "pop oriented" as Idol is, I think the show does an excellent job in it's attempts to give every music genre its own chance to grab new fans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The climatic moment of the night led to what is now being referred to by every media outlet as the giant "Idol Upset," where poor Adam Lambert was "robbed" of the Idol throne. This is the problem I have with the media coverage of Kris Allen's win. How can it be called an Idol upset if Kris was rightfully voted into this title by the American public? America wanted Kris Allen to win; otherwise we would have seen a very different result. I do realize that most of Danny Gokey's fans gravitated towards Kris's music stylings over Adam's but how does that make Kris's win any less genuine or any less deserved? Kris Allen is an extremely talented performer, as is Adam but they represent two very different genres of music. In my opinion, Kris Allen is a far better well-rounded artist. He may not be as amazing to watch during his live performances but I'll tell you right now whose CD I'd rather listen to. I love Adam but I do not want his high pitch squeals flooding through my car radio. However, I am more excited to see Adam in concert than I am Kris. My opinion on this? These two performers are just far too different to compare against each other. I wish the media would stop portraying Kris's win as an "upset" and start recognizing him for what got him the title, his musical talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am super excited to see the Idols on tour! Yay for early birthday presents from Glenn. :) I am always sad to see the show end every year but I'm excited for September where I get to see all of them live. I'm sure I'll have a very interesting blog with many glamorous photos to detail my experience. So I have 3 more months before I can see my second boyfriend in person. ;) And the countdown begins....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-8491690133529608681?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/8491690133529608681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=8491690133529608681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8491690133529608681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8491690133529608681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-second-boyfriend-takes-american-idol.html' title='My second boyfriend takes the American Idol title.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/Shb2_eB2u_I/AAAAAAAAAEk/Z9cLOWZUjLk/s72-c/krisallenwonwtf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-7223830555473938373</id><published>2009-05-05T13:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:18:58.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cinco De Chihuahua.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SgCLoNW0NVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/K5on2esqPUk/s1600-h/cincodechihuahua+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 169px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SgCLoNW0NVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/K5on2esqPUk/s320/cincodechihuahua+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332415481703052626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Cinco De Mayo! I am a proud Chihuahua Mama and I feel the need to acknowledge this holiday for Halpert's heritage sake. Truthfully, I had no idea what this holiday commemorated aside from giving the world populous an excuse to drink copious amounts of alcohol on a weekday. (I've come to realize that most of my friends do this anyway, holiday or not.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to Wikipedia, the go-to source for all those who seek knowledge, Cinco De Mayo commemorates the Mexican army's victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. 147 years later, that translates to "free margarita &amp; tequila shots day" for Americans everywhere. It kind of reminds me of how Easter is celebrated. I'm not sure Jesus wanted everyone to celebrate his resurrection by hiding eggs, worshipping a giant furry bunny, and eating tons of marshmallow peeps. And just as kids lose the religious meaning of Easter in their hunt for a sugar rush, I'm sure millions of Americans are hammering back beers right now without even acknowledging the men that died in a Battle I didn't even know happened until I googled it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be spending this year's Cinco De Mayo at home watching American Idol with Glenn and Halpert. Maybe I'll make him wear a little sombrero to be festive, I'm sure they make Chihuahua sized Mexican attire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-7223830555473938373?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/7223830555473938373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=7223830555473938373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7223830555473938373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7223830555473938373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/05/cinco-de-chihuahua.html' title='Cinco De Chihuahua.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SgCLoNW0NVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/K5on2esqPUk/s72-c/cincodechihuahua+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-6649636886449534314</id><published>2009-05-01T14:17:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T15:06:38.213-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I would like a nice glass of swine. Oink. Oink.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SftWDhttqBI/AAAAAAAAAD8/3Mb0cwsPPNM/s1600-h/mean_pig.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SftWDhttqBI/AAAAAAAAAD8/3Mb0cwsPPNM/s320/mean_pig.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330949202512816146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel compelled to write a blog in case I am stricken with Swine Flu and find myself bed ridden and without the brain power to write. According to the news I will get Swine Flue and I will die. OK. Not really. I just need to avoid any type of public place, stay inside my house in a Purell bath, sport a gas mask, and run screaming away from any one with a cough. My morning dose of Matt Lauer is leaving me with the same shakey uncertainty I feel during a trailer for a horror movie. However, listening to Arnold Schwarzenegger talk about the Swine Flu like it's a murderous villain he must crush with his bare hands is pretty much the most unintentionally hilarious clip I've seen on the news in a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am officially not laid off at Brown. Wa-hoo? I can't even feign enthusiasm in grammatical form. Let me explain...As much as I am thankful and overwhelmingly blessed to have this steady, well paying and dependable job, I can't help but wonder what else is out there for me. At such a young age, I have found a place where I have my own beautiful office, an amazing boss, freedom to manage myself, and amazing co-works. In my performance review the other day, my boss commented that one day I will have to "leave the nest." She's right. I do. This job is wonderful but it's about as challenging as an I-Can-Read book. I know I'm capable of more but why would I risk the comforts of this seemingly perfect job? On my commute home the other day, I began to wish that I found this job when I was older and reaching retirement age. This would be a perfect job to have after slaving for years in corporate America, making a name for yourself and earning lots of money. I'm not sure it's such a great start for a 24 year old who should be pushing herself to achieve greater things. This job makes it a little too easy to rest on your laurels. Sometimes I wonder if being laid off would be the only way I'd leave this job to find the greater opportunities out there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I've been contemplating much about the future. Where I want to go in my career, do I even want to have a huge career or do I want to focus on being a mom one day? I have guilt for leaving my Chihuahua for 8 hours a day. How will I feel dropping my kids off to daycare or leaving them with my parents for 40 hours a week? Maybe Brown is the place to stay. Maybe having a leisure, flexible job is more important than having a lucrative, successful career and a fat bank account. I've been trying to debate what will be more important to me in four years, a career or my potential family? I guess only time will tell. With my 25th birthday looming around the corner, I can't help but wonder how much my life will change in the next 4years. 20 to 24 really only brought with it graduation and job changes. 25-29 may bring with it marriage, children, house buying and priority changes. It's a daunting age to hit because your future is looming ahead of you into paths I couldn't even begin to know how to navigate. Scary stuff. (Way scarier than swine.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention, my youth is starting to deteriorate, literally. I woke up about a week and a half ago feeling like my neck was in a vice. Ever since then, I've been going to physical therapy trying to work the kinks out of what seems to be a herniated disk. This morning my doctor tells me I have early stage arthritis from years of running. Who gets arthritis at 24? I am now going to be just like the substitute teacher I had in high school, Miss Hensler. She was 3 feet tall with a hunch back the side of my head. Glenn said he'd still love me, hunch back and all. Maybe by that time, a hunch back will be the new boob job. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that pretty much sums up my thoughts for the week! Write soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-6649636886449534314?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/6649636886449534314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=6649636886449534314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/6649636886449534314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/6649636886449534314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-would-like-nice-glass-of-swine-oink.html' title='I would like a nice glass of swine. Oink. Oink.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SftWDhttqBI/AAAAAAAAAD8/3Mb0cwsPPNM/s72-c/mean_pig.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-2103380442058723476</id><published>2009-04-14T13:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T12:56:51.155-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations, Obstacles and Overtures for the month of April.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SftIYpia9BI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k-N7TSJWZKc/s1600-h/kf4hzm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SftIYpia9BI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k-N7TSJWZKc/s320/kf4hzm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330934172227400722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years after high school ends, and the memories of social ostracizing, and internal awkwardness fade, it only takes one person to bring all those feelings back. Eight years post high school and I can still become the insecure, self doubting, quiet blonde girl cornered by the heat of someone's judgmental gaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My time spent single in no way prepared me to fall in love again. Because the things you say you'll never do again, you find you &lt;strong&gt;have to&lt;/strong&gt; in order to make the clock tick and the wheels turn and the emotions you swear you shut yourself off from, inevitably creep back in, all but leaving you with that empty sick feeling in your stomach at the thought of losing it all again. Break up survivor or not, love is absolutely terrifying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insecurities die hard. Or maybe they never go away. Maybe they lay in wait, coming to the surface only to remind us that whatever or whoever we're insecure over is just &lt;strong&gt;that &lt;/strong&gt;important to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world could be combusting from the inside out but karma will still continue its relentless battle to tip the scale for the good guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halpert is still the absolute steadfast love of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seem to be struggling with the obstacles of my past that prevent me from healing and moving on. I've mastered the healing that allows you to go as far as to paint your face to smile. That part is cheating, faking, a fraud. I struggle with the rest. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to show my skin without the recollection of how bad it hurt before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only love were as easy as obsessing over fictional characters. Jim Halpert and Edward Cullen would never break my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my friends. The transition from single girl to Glenn's dutiful girlfriend hasn't been easy. I love them all for sticking by me and reminding me of my perpetual lameness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll eventually achieve a balance. Between friends and lovers. Between insecurity and confidence. Between nervous and calm. Between fearful and content. Between resilience and giving up. And between love and fear. Until then my friends....I'll be here. Writing until I figure it out. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-2103380442058723476?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/2103380442058723476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=2103380442058723476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/2103380442058723476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/2103380442058723476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/04/observations-obstacles-and-overtures.html' title='Observations, Obstacles and Overtures for the month of April.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SftIYpia9BI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k-N7TSJWZKc/s72-c/kf4hzm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-7083317253715860939</id><published>2009-03-19T14:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T14:49:07.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My advice to my former self...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/ScKhrvMiOpI/AAAAAAAAADk/dWpGP49f39w/s1600-h/eighteenme.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 124px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/ScKhrvMiOpI/AAAAAAAAADk/dWpGP49f39w/s320/eighteenme.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314988283026094738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this writing prompt on a blog called "Twenty Something Writers" and it intrigued me. So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you were able to communicate with your younger self, what would you say? Would you warn yourself of the things that are to come? Would you tell yourself to avoid certain people? Write a letter to yourself at a younger age. Feel free to tell yourself anything that you’d like to. Let us know what age of yourself you are writing to.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear eighteen year old Johnna,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Treasure the friendship you have with Robert. It will be the one thing that keeps you laughing, keeps you positive, and keeps you strong. And try not to introduce him to your friend Amanda. It doesn't end well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save every email and voicemail you shared with Andrew. You'll wish you saved all the silly conversations you had with him. Years from now, you'll be regretting the fact that you can't listen to his drunken voice say "see you in awhile lyle, lyle lovett."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen to your gut when it comes to your first impressions of a guy you're dating. It will save you from a six month relationship that will only make you look back, laugh and ask "what was I thinking?" It will also save you from a two year relationship that should have ended the day it got started. Please know that if a guy is a douchebag within the first month, that behavior will only worsen years down the line. And no, he won't ever change. You will though. A LOT. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a break from all the schoolwork. You will soon find that it doesn't matter if you graduate with a 4.0 or 3.0. The underachiever who drank his way through college and barely graduated with a business degree will still manage to make at least fifteen grand more than you and your sterling academic record and liberal arts degree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't tattoo Bert McCracken's name on your back. It may seem like a good idea at the time but trust me, his music doesn't get any better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep an eye out for a skinny, punk rock kid named Glenn. I'm sure he's around at some concert you're going to this week. I'm fairly certain that if you met him a lot sooner, you two would be celebrating your 6 year anniversary right now. But don't worry if you can't spot him, he comes along just when you need him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never park in the President's driveway next to Independence Hall on the URI campus. Yes, your car will be towed and no, it won't be funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let the pressure to be perfect from your parents make you crack. You will soon learn that you will never please them. Not now or not ever. Focus on you and know that you end up moving out just when you said you would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give Mike McKenna a giant hug at his last Turning Blue show. It will be the last time you see him and you will always look back to that moment and regret not saying a meaningful goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friends Greg, Blake, Paul and JT are still around and probably always will be. Treasure them and try to hang out with them more. You'll have fun. Promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you do still kind of have a crush on Ryan Muir. I still don't quite get it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are going to have a pretty amazing life after you graduate college so don't worry that you won't accomplish everything you want to. You do and then some. Relax. About everything. Your grades. Your parents. Your love life. Your friends. Everything. Just take a deep breath because you will soon find out that everything has its strange way of working itself out beautifully. You'll soon realize that all the worry, the stress, the belly aches will not (and won't ever) alter what you can't control. So enjoy the next six years of your life and take everything for what it's worth. I promise you make it out alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-7083317253715860939?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/7083317253715860939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=7083317253715860939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7083317253715860939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7083317253715860939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-advice-to-my-former-self.html' title='My advice to my former self...'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/ScKhrvMiOpI/AAAAAAAAADk/dWpGP49f39w/s72-c/eighteenme.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-3881374748424685675</id><published>2009-02-24T14:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T14:51:08.419-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of a Shopaholic: Movie Review</title><content type='html'>I'm helping Feeney out with his movie review blog by reveiwing a movie he thought would somehow capsulate his manhood. So read, enjoy, buy a movie ticket. And while you're at it, buy a popcorn and soda...stimulate the economy and all that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                            Confessions of a Shopaholic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SaRdUQDNcII/AAAAAAAAADc/NsSewsE3IKc/s1600-h/2009_confessions_of_a_shopaholic_002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SaRdUQDNcII/AAAAAAAAADc/NsSewsE3IKc/s320/2009_confessions_of_a_shopaholic_002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306468863436484738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                     A light hearted and relatable portrayal of a girl &lt;br /&gt;                 who truly  believes that an accessory can change her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Before I divulge into my take of the cinematic portrayal of Sophie Kinsella’s famous book series Confessions of a Shopaholic, I think I have a confession to make myself. My name is Johnna Moretti, and I am a shopaholic. That’s right; I am a sale hounding, shiny store window obsessed, full fledged shopaholic. Rebecca Bloomwood, meet your doppelganger, Johnna Moretti. So I joined the legions of women who fell in love with Miss Bloomwood’s shopping peril’s in the original book series, because I too saw a piece of myself in her hopeless love affair with retail. And I can say with the utmost confidence that director PJ Hogan and actress Isla Fisher, truly brought charm and relatability into this unsung heroine who completely understands the life changing power that comes with buying a new outfit. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; When we first meet Rebecca Bloomwood, she is an unhappy journalist struggling to obtain her dream position as a writer for the high fashion magazine, Alette. Her shopping addiction is made evidently clear to the audience as we see her try to convince herself and friends that someone had stolen her Mastercard after realizing she had spent $900 dollars in one month. She frequently falls under the fashion thrall of talking store window mannequins and she almost buys 97 hotdogs just to get an extra twenty dollars in her pocket. After losing her job, Rebecca is unemployed and faced with over sixteen thousand dollars in debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Forced to take a job at a financial planning magazine, Rebecca makes a name for herself as “The Girl with the Green Scarf.”  She uses her retail and fashion expertise by comparing complex financial planning terms to basic shopping principles. After all, what better way to explain cost and worth to a fashion hounding public than with a Gucci shoe analogy? Despite her career successes, she is still struggling with her credit card debt, including avoiding a particularly vicious debt collector, Derek Smeath. Broken legs, sick aunts, and a bought with malaria are only some of the excuses Rebecca and her friends give the relentless Smeath. He eventually finds Rebecca’s place of employment and in an attempt to hide her debt from her financially savvy co-workers, she claims Smeath is a psycho ex-boyfriend who is stalking her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The lies surrounding Rebecca’s financial situation deepen as she develops feelings for her financially astute boss, Luke Brandon. Soon her shopping habits begin to threaten the inner workings of Rebecca’s love and social life as she is forced to make a choice between her addiction to shopping and her relationships with her friends and family. The audience is reminded of the eventual toll that shopping and extreme self indulgence can take. We begin to see Rebecca’s life turn around as she begins to resist the overwhelming need to shop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Admittedly, the movie is far from Oscar winning. The plot is predictable and the jokes are slightly unoriginal. However, the light hearted take on a shopaholics eventual turnaround, is received as a welcome break from our own financial worries in a less than perfect economy. The audience is able to laugh at Rebecca’s struggles with her new mantra “Do I really need this?” because like much of the audience, I too have grappled with this very battle between want and need. Ultimately, the movie sends a sense of hope to its audience as Rebecca’s Dad reminds us all, ‘if the American economy can be billions in debt and still survive, so can you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; And for all you men out there who blanch when their girlfriends/wives bring up the idea of watching this movie…never fear. Ed Helms, (aka Andy from The Office) and John Goodman bring enough comedic relief that stirred more than a few chuckles from my boyfriend. I highly recommend this movie to anyone who feels alone in their overwhelming financial worries. This movie is a light hearted, two hour escape from the constraints of our own wallet and for a confessed shopaholic like me; it reminded me that 9 out of 10 times, the best things in your life can’t be found in a store. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-3881374748424685675?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/3881374748424685675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=3881374748424685675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/3881374748424685675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/3881374748424685675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/02/confessions-of-shopaholic-movie-review.html' title='Confessions of a Shopaholic: Movie Review'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SaRdUQDNcII/AAAAAAAAADc/NsSewsE3IKc/s72-c/2009_confessions_of_a_shopaholic_002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-8435994457643948226</id><published>2009-02-13T13:45:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T12:55:26.329-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Always be yourself....unless you suck: My ode to Joss Whedon and various other thoughts on Friday the 13th, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SZXaB1RuLYI/AAAAAAAAADU/VaN-c7x7404/s1600-h/josswhedon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SZXaB1RuLYI/AAAAAAAAADU/VaN-c7x7404/s320/josswhedon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302383861314760066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life has been so un-blog worthy lately. I can probably attribute this to the fact that I have been extremely happy for the past two months. I need to get over the writing block that cramps my brain when the endorphins flow and remind myself that blogging isn't only meant for inner turmoil and romantic angst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been re-watching old episodes of Buffy and the Vampire Slayer lately. Everytime I watch, I am reminded of what an unsung genius Joss Whedon truly is. His character development and dialogue writing is absolutley amazing and his attention to detail and mastery of subtlety in his writing astounds me. If I become half the writer he is in my life time, I will consider myself an extremely accomplished woman. I highly recommend everyone taking the time to get into that series. It'll change your life. True story. (Sidenote: I also think Glenn is exactly like Xander on Buffy and I've always had a giant crush on Xander. Life imitating art I tell ya.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously think every spoof of Christian Bale's freak out is hilarious. Stephen Colbert &amp; Steve Martin has been the funniest so far. I have to thank Christian Bale's ridiculous temper for many shakey laugh fits these past two weeks. Although Glenn &amp; I's attempt at changing the face of "Rick Rolling" to "Christian Bale-ing" failed horribly. I shake my fist at the volume on power point! Or as my friend Christian Bale would say to Power Point, what the FUCK do you think you're doing?! Are you a FUCKING professional?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to invest in making copies upon copies of every key I own. I learned yesterday that if you don't have spare keys, you're basically up shit creek without a paddle...or a key to your tobogan or whatever you float up shit creek in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently women in the 1950s did not have to eat or exhale. I got my dress today from Unique Vintage for Glenn and I's 50's inspired Valentine's Day Dinner and let me just say, this dress could make Michael Feeney look fat. I'd be fine as long as I was not expected to breathe or injest food or liquids at any point of the night. Since we're going to an Italian restaurant that night, I'm going to need the extra dress room for a little Italian food baby to emerge. Emergency dress shopping begins tonight at 6pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow...that's really all I can come up with! Unless you want me to gush about how wonderful Glenn is which I just refuse to do for fear that I've become one of "those girls." (Just for the record...he is pretty frickin wonderful.) I will be writing soon lovelies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-8435994457643948226?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/8435994457643948226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=8435994457643948226' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8435994457643948226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8435994457643948226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/02/always-be-yourselfunless-you-suck-my.html' title='Always be yourself....unless you suck: My ode to Joss Whedon and various other thoughts on Friday the 13th, 2009'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SZXaB1RuLYI/AAAAAAAAADU/VaN-c7x7404/s72-c/josswhedon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-4360386055140276851</id><published>2009-02-03T14:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T15:29:27.483-06:00</updated><title type='text'>25 things and then some...</title><content type='html'>To many people's chagrin, the "25 things about me" note has slowly been taking over, popping its cheery little head amongst news feeds all over the facebooking community. I personally love reading 25 random tidbits about my friends. No matter how much you think you know someone, they can still surprise you in something as silly as a facebook chain. Or in some cases, the people I didn't know so well have enlightened me with small things about themselves that I would have otherwise not known. So to all of you naysayers, I think you're just a little too chicken to take on the 25 things challenge. Oh that's right, I went there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after I finished my note, I realized I could probably write 25 more things but I wouldn't be that self indulgent on facebook. However, a blog is entirely self indulgent so why wouldn't I carry on here? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without any further a due, here is my "25 things about me: part deux:"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26.) I have a seriously strange connection with a certain individual (let's call him Shmyan Shmuir) that I went to high school with. I can eerily predict when and where I will run into him. I've tried to use my psychic powers in other ways that would be far more beneficial to my life, but it only seems to work on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27.) When I get really nervous, I always carry Two in my purse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28.) Because of this, Two always seems to smell like spearmint gum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29.) I give Halpert pep talks before I leave the house in the morning. We go over what he'll do in my absence, including play with his toys, poop, and nap. Then I tell him all the fun we'll have when I get home. I feel as if he appreciates this time I take out of my morning even if sometimes it makes me late for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30.) I am extremely irritated by people who don't seem to have a dark side to them. We all are a little fucked up inside. Isn't that what makes us interesting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31.) The only girl I have ever considered to be my best friend is Barb. She restored my faith in the female gender. Yet, her departure to California makes me question if I'm truly meant to have a best friend who is a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32.) Even though I only see him every couple months, I know Greg Johnson will be in my life forever. Same goes for Robert and oddly enough; these are the only two people that I am 100% confident in the belief that I will know them for the rest of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33.) I go through phases when I am an extreme home body, and a party girl. I never can quite master balancing the two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34.) It's taken me almost 10 years to figure out, but I think I'm finally starting to  see that it is possible for a guy to treat you exactly how you think you deserve to be treated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35.) I still consider the time that Adam Lazzara from Taking Back Sunday said 'shit sweetheart, this songs about you' to be the sexiest moment of any concert I've ever been to. (Even though he didn't even say it to me). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidenote: This also tops seeing Britney Spears in her nude diamond body suit psuedo masturbating in a tub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36.) I still laugh over the fact that I ever dated Shaun Hague.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37.) I can read a book in an entire sitting but I usually fall asleep midway through a two hour movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38.) I am an absolute lyrics junkie. I still feel as if there is a song out there that I have yet to discover that will explain my life perfectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39.) I feel as if I have three different families: My actual family, my co-workers at Brown and my co-workers at Self Essentials. The girls at both work places have helped me immensely over the years and I honestly don't know where I'd be without all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40.) I sometimes want to up and leave and move to London. I feel as if I'm going to have a huge event in my life one day which will result in a drastic move. It also fits with my theory that I am destined to marry a British man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41.) If above does not happen; I hope my husband takes me to London on our honeymoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42.) I really believe that I was a World War I nurse in a past life and I had a passionate affair with a soldier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43.) I completely believe in ghosts but I never want to see one for fear that I will go insane as a result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44.) I am still torn on the existence of God. My poppa's passing has convinced me that there is something else out there but I don't think I'll ever be ready to commit to a religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45.) I also think deeply and radically religious people are ignorant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46.) That said, I have my talks with the big man (whoever he is) and he knows I'm trying every day to make him proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47.) My mom was supposed to be a nun. I'm glad she decided otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48.) My brother and sister used to say I was like the guy in Beetle juice who hangs from the ceiling and says 'feeling a little flat.' I've gained some weight since then. Maybe they'll lay off now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49.) The only way I would eat when I was little was if my parents put on Cindi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" video on the T.V. Oddly enough, I am still happier when I eat while watching The Family Guy, Buffy or The Office. And I refuse to eat while watching anything new. I had odd eating habits from the womb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50.) I used to think Slimmer from the Ghostbusters movie lived on my ceiling at night. Little did I know, it was just the little green spots you see from staring at the light for too long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all for now. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(How's that for raw Feeney?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-4360386055140276851?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/4360386055140276851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=4360386055140276851' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4360386055140276851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4360386055140276851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/02/25-things-and-then-some.html' title='25 things and then some...'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-9047942970969529951</id><published>2009-01-23T09:28:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:19:12.062-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Serendipity &amp; Heath Ledger.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/heath%20ledger" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh163/bellasammich/Heath%20Ledger/gallery21673.jpg" border="0" alt="Heath Pictures, Images and Photos"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was the one year anniversary of Heath Ledger's death. And this blog is not what you think...I'm not about to write a tribute to Heath Ledger (as much as I was, and still am, extremely saddened about his passing). The realization of this one year landmark made me think back to where I was at the exact moment that I was delivered the news of his death. It's strange how you keep memories in these tiny caverns within your brain. And they wait and rest until the moment they are called forward; their push into the forefront of your mind can seem quick, almost violent. For a moment, it's as if the rules of time and space don't really exist because transportation to another place, another time seems so effortless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I figured with these thoughts fresh in my head, why not use my blog to dust the cobwebs off of my past. Because after all, what is a blog's purpose if not a tool to reflect on the past?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still in the grieving aftermath of my break up with Dante and going through the same depressing motions that had become my nightly routine in the month or so after our split; get home from work, get into pajamas, snuggle with Halpert and crawl into bed. Rob called me on my cell phone shortly after to tell me about Heath's passing and I remember telling him that I'm sure that the radio station he had heard this on was wrong. I switched to E! News and in tiny writing on the bottom of the screen were the details of his passing. It was devastating to think of such a gifted, young and talented actor dying far before his time. News like that can certainly cast a hopeful light on what minutes earlier seemed to be the dark and depressing remnants of your once fulfilling life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quickly mass texted my friends, including Dante (our first post break up text communication). He didn't respond. I immediately felt shallow and selfish for feeling more sadness from Dante's failed acknowledgement of my text than of the ending of someone's life. In the end though, aren't we all ultimately selfish that way? Our own pain can feel so much greater than anyone elses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Months later, the midnight showing of the Dark Knight marked another memory of a night equally as insignificant in action, but heavy with meaning. However, this is a memory that draws a smile because it was the first time I realized that not all things that end, have to end horribly. And now, one year later, the death of Heath Ledger marks yet another mundane but meaningful day in my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serendipity in it's literal translation means to make a fortunate discovery by accident. Last night in a seemingly casual conversation, I was faced again with the threat of an end. A hypothetical end, an end that I could make a reality, or an end that doesn't have to be an end. Whatever way this perpetual end chooses to shake itself out, I couldn't help but think how this anniversary brought me back full circle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am certainly not implying that Heath Ledger has some sort of mythical or mystical impact on my life but I do believe it's strange that in a year, no matter how many leaps and bounds you may take as a person, life will inevitably present you with the same challenges. Maybe I am always meant to experience an end. Maybe this is my way to prove to myself that I am strong. Maybe this is just another lily pad I'm perching on in my journey to the other side of the pond. Maybe this one will prove my past wrong. I can't be certain right now of what this serendipitous occasion of Heath Ledger's death means in the great scheme of my life. But whoever is keeping an eye out for me in this lifetime, your irony is not lost on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll keep on trucking along because if anything, this one year landmark between January 22nd, 2008 and January 22nd, 2009, has shown me my own changes in the truest form. It's incredible how one year can make such a big difference....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till next time folks. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-9047942970969529951?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/9047942970969529951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=9047942970969529951' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/9047942970969529951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/9047942970969529951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/01/serendipity-heath-ledger.html' title='Serendipity &amp; Heath Ledger.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh163/bellasammich/Heath%20Ledger/th_gallery21673.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-9198281270287600461</id><published>2009-01-05T11:20:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:21:02.709-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How could you be so heartless?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/ice%20cold" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i355.photobucket.com/albums/r473/XMorbidAngel92X/ice_heart_by_chmstudio4-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Cold hearted Pictures, Images and Photos"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;*In the night, I hear them talk the coldest story ever told. Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul to a woman so heartless.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a little chilly lately due in much part to the biting cold temperatures of January. My toes have since recovered from a particularly brutal snow storm on New Year's Eve. Katelyn and I risked possible frost bite and hypothermia in an effort to look cute in our New Year's dresses and I'd say the results of our efforts were definitely worth it. Despite the obvious winter winds, I've been feeling a bit more of the "metaphorical" chill and some of the ones I hold near and dear are responsible for my inner chill to the bone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glenn and I are now a couple. Yay! :) It's the official blog announcement. Some people are surprised, some saw it coming from a mile away, some are just plain old happy that I found myself a really great guy and some are downright upset about it. And me? Little old me? (How nice of you to ask how I'm feeling about this.)  I'm just really happy and content! I have a best friend and a boyfriend all wrapped up in one. I don't think a girl could get any luckier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's my piece (my scarf and hat if you will) to defend against some bitter and chilly reactions I've received to this news. Glenn and I have been friends from the minute I met him way back in July during the Neil Hamburger show at The Living Room. We were &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; friends and as much as it was glaringly obvious to everyone else, I truly just saw him as that; a friend. As for the start of our romantic relationship? All I can say is it all kind of ...happened, as those things often do. Blame it on Holiday magic? Who knows? All I know is he stuck by me unflailingly through so much and it just dawned on me that I had a wonderful guy right in front of me who would do anything to be with me; a quality that has been severely lacking in my boyfriends of the past. I deserve someone like him and I'm so happy that I finally put my past behind me and opened myself up to something really wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry if my decision to settle down with this amazing person has upset any of my beloved friends but hear me out.... if I mean to you, what you mean to me, you'd find a way to understand that this is the best thing for me. I hate to lose friends, especially the important ones, but if that's what has to happen; I'll sacrifice. Because honestly, if a friendship could end over the start of something else, it was never much of a friendship to begin with, now was it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel at peace with where I am right now. I have put my inner relationship demons to rest for now. I feel safe as houses with Glenn and it's nice to finally let myself have that with someone again. I guess you could say his unwavering faith in me led to all of this. Through everything I went through in the past few months, that boy never gave up on me I guess it just goes to show you that nice guys don't always finish last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for now folks! I hope my blog will still be interesting without all my inner romantic turmoil. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-9198281270287600461?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/9198281270287600461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=9198281270287600461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/9198281270287600461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/9198281270287600461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2009/01/how-could-you-be-so-heartless.html' title='How could you be so heartless?'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-101930590196818856</id><published>2008-12-26T10:25:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:22:25.722-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fairwell my black balloon, may the weather have it's way with you.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/black%20balloon" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i302.photobucket.com/albums/nn115/electric-cat/black%20balloon/ballon.jpg" border="0" alt="balloon lady Pictures, Images and Photos"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Farewell to 2008...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the final days of 2008 come dwindling down to that all too anti-climatic New Year's Eve celebration, I can't help but reflect on the various events of the past year.  2008 brought with it a barrage of trials and tribulations that have made this year the one that has forced me to grow up the most. It was the hardest year; the most trying, the most challenging, and yet, the year with the happiest ending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2008 I have...&lt;br /&gt;Formed amazing friendships with people that I am so thankful to begin the new year with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuck by my best friend through crazy times, crazy relationships and created even more unbreakable bonds in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gone to parties alone, had fun being a single girl, and realized that it's not so bad to go to bed with a good book and a dog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had my heart broken, remended and broken again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proved to myself that I am stronger than I ever thought possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grown more into my body, my face and my personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fallen so in love with a furry, four legged friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learned to appreciate my relationship with my parents on a much more deeper level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learned who deserves my company, who doesn't, and still working on not caring about those who don't.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Had casual sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made out with lots of wonderful and adorable boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realized I'm not a slut for doing the above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discovered many great new bands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopped feeling embarassed for loving chick country music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realized the importance of high thread count sheets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gone red, brown, and almost every color in between on my way back to blonde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have gotten some really unexpected life gifts from the unlikeliest of sources.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2009 I plan to....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start working out more. (I know everyone makes this promise to themselves but I really want to start exercising more during the winter. Just because it's too cold to run, doesn't mean I have a 4 month excuse to be a lazy ass!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be vulnerable. The right guy isn't going to head for the hills if he sees you cry over a belly ache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let people in. They're not so bad when they care about you but I'll never know that if I never give them the opportunity to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop shopping. I do not want to be on Dr. Phil for having 800,000 dollars of credit card debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save money. One of these days I'll have more people relying on me than Halpert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep writing my book. If I don't finish it, I'll always wonder what if.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let go. Of everyone, everything and every thought that has made me unhappy in 2008. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continue on in the path I've taken because so far, I am so, so happy and proud of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all of my friends and family who read this. I love you. You are the reason why I am where I am. I couldn't do it without you. I can't wait to spend 2009 with all of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much, much love always :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-101930590196818856?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/101930590196818856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=101930590196818856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/101930590196818856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/101930590196818856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/12/fairwell-my-black-balloon-may-weather.html' title='Fairwell my black balloon, may the weather have it&apos;s way with you.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i302.photobucket.com/albums/nn115/electric-cat/black%20balloon/th_ballon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-5078362056446835678</id><published>2008-12-12T08:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:24:43.894-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Move over Stephen Colbert....this is my On Notice list.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/stephen%20colbert" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i355.photobucket.com/albums/r477/badmanrasta/colbert-lockwood.jpg" border="0" alt="Stephen Colbert Pictures, Images and Photos"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching the Colbert Report last night and that man sure can make a girl shakey laugh. He decided to put "forgiveness" on his On Notice list due to the recent presidential pardons and I couldn't help but think of what I would put on my own On Notice list. So without further adue, here is my On Notice list for 2008. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) The Harpo Marx look-a-like ticket Officer on Thayer Street: Was it really necessary to give me a ticket for being parked less than 25 feet from the curb? Or better yet; being parked too close to a cross walk. Are you just making up ridiculous parking rules to fill your ticket quota or do you have a personal vendetta against me and my blueberry shaped Yaris? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) The 4 douche bag construction workers who sit at the same table at Dunkin Donuts every morning: Is it necessary to stare at me like I just walked in the door naked? In case you haven't noticed, I can hear what you whisper to each other. Not to sound like a product of the 90s but 'AS IF!' And just for the record, staring and whispering dirty things under your breath usually won't sweep a girl off her feet. Take a picture assholes, it lasts longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) Radio stations that play Christmas music before Thanksgiving: Really?! As if a month of the same 5 songs in split rotation isn't enough? You must extend the torture a few more days? Do you have to sit for 12 hours every Saturday and listen to Christmas Shoes 20 times a day? I swear that song makes me want to slit my wrists more and more every time I hear it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) People that call O-P-I nail polish Opie: There's dashes between each letter for a reason. And no, I will not spend 45 minutes trying to match the nail polish color from your last pedicure. Put your toes away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.) People who can't remember the name of their hair care product but *thankfully* know the color of it: Newsflash folks. There's about 28 different "blue-ish" bottles in my store. Next time, bring the container and save me from the barrage of swear words that go off in my head when you look at me blankly after I've lined up all 28 bottles in front of you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.) The creator of the glass snow man I broke in Target: Why did you fill the glass snowman with a thousand tiny styrofoam beans? Did you think to yourself, 'Man it would be hilarious if someone broke this in the middle of the store because these fucking beans are impossible to clean up.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.) To the person going 55 in the high speed lane on route 4: Oh, don't worry. I'm not in a rush, really. Who cares that this is a passing lane? Just continue on your merry way and don't forget to tap on your breaks if your speedometer miraculously hits 60. Thanks for making every 7am drive to Narragansett so awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.) All girls who don't think fairy tale endings are possible (including myself): As my friend put it so nicely, you want a fairy tale ending, stop fucking Gaston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.) To the person who stole my lunch: Are you a character in Billy Madison? Who steals lunches? If you're really that hungry, please stop by my office and I'll be happy to give you directions to Store 24 where you can get a Cup O Noodles for .79 cents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.) A Double Shot at Love: Are these girls even slightly famous? Where did they come from? Do you just have to be cute and bisexual whores to get on TV now? And if I see the commercial of that disgusting, steriod filled, muscle bound meat head guy saying 'twins' over and over again, I will literally lose my mind. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I believe that is it for now. I'm sure I'll add more as 2009 comes closer and closer. I'm such a bitter little thing this holiday season. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-5078362056446835678?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/5078362056446835678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=5078362056446835678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/5078362056446835678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/5078362056446835678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/12/move-over-stephen-colbertthis-is-my-on.html' title='Move over Stephen Colbert....this is my On Notice list.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-8547078471203552477</id><published>2008-12-12T08:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T08:56:30.848-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The new Pick Up Artists...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;current=newpickupartists.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/newpickupartists.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glenn and I have a new obsession with Mystery on Vh1's The Pick Up Artist. We spot him in various random places such as Target and the drive thru window at Wendy's. It's hard  for him to hide his true identity with his choice of hat wear. Fuzzy top hats just aren't as inconspicuous as they used to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're pitching a new idea for Vh1 called "The New Pick Up Artists," featuring Halpertz and Miloz. What better way to get chicks then with two cute dogs that can fit in the palm of your hand?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-8547078471203552477?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/8547078471203552477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=8547078471203552477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8547078471203552477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8547078471203552477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-pick-up-artists.html' title='The new Pick Up Artists...'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-2797433914560966326</id><published>2008-12-04T15:28:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:27:18.601-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I never thought I'd be this cliche....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/bowl%20of%20oranges" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee318/zenfreaker/2004111400210202.jpg" border="0" alt="bowl of oranges Pictures, Images and Photos"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I AM quoting Bright Eyes lyrics for my song for the beginning of December. I feel "Bowl of Oranges" is very fitting of my life right now so I'm caving and doing the emo kid thing. I will make sure my hair falls in front of my eye as I copy and paste this: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming, so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open.&lt;br /&gt;Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been. So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets. But everything seemed different and completely new to me. The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body. And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait to meet. I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health. I said "there is nothing I can do for you that you can't do for yourself." He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help." So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt. He said, "I think I'm cured. No, in fact, I'm sure. Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic smile." So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself. It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope. That is why I'm singing...Baby don't worry cause now I got your back. And every time you feel like crying, I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can't, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we'll keep working on the problem we know we'll never solve, of Love's uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole.&lt;br /&gt;But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty, then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Bright Eyes, Bowl of Oranges&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-2797433914560966326?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/2797433914560966326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=2797433914560966326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/2797433914560966326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/2797433914560966326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-never-thought-id-be-this-cliche.html' title='I never thought I&apos;d be this cliche....'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-2046474896201606285</id><published>2008-11-26T08:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:28:58.060-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakthrough.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/icons/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i251.photobucket.com/albums/gg285/dbthielman/amor02.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must have been beating, too, but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me. And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt the pain—the aching loss that radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs and head—but it was manageable. I could live through it. It didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that I'd grown strong enough to bear it.&lt;br /&gt;'It will be as if I'd never existed.' They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open. I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs. I wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday, years from now—if the pain would just decrease to the point where I could bear it—I would be able to look back on those few short months that would always be the best of my life. And, if it were possible that the pain would ever soften enough to allow me to do that, I was sure that I would feel grateful for as much time as he'd given me. More than I'd asked for, more than I'd deserved. Maybe someday I'd be able to see it that way. But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible? I held myself tightly together. As if he'd never existed, I thought in despair. What a stupid and impossible promise to make! He could steal my pictures and reclaim his gifts, but that didn't put things back the way they'd been before I'd met him. The physical evidence was the most insignificant part of the equation. I was changed, my insides altered almost past the point of recognition." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent last night curled up with a book. I was Halpert-less and in the mood to be alone. I've been doing a lot of inner soul searching lately; contemplating karma and how the implications of my actions will affect my near and distant future. I've been trying to pinpoint the origin of my feelings in search of the source controlling my recent behavior. And last night, in the midst of my reading, I found the answer glaring loudly off the page. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suffering from heart break has been the worst thing I've ever had to go through in my 24 years on this earth. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I know&lt;/span&gt; that I've been through worse experiences; the deaths of loved ones, dealing with the effects of family alcoholism, and building up a thick skin to withstand my home life but for some reason my break up with Dante is the most raw and painful experience I have ever had to endure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was my world. My everything. I've loved before but not in the same way I loved him. I thought I was going to marry him; honestly and truthfully, I thought I had found the one person I was meant to be with forever. Our relationship was beautiful and everything I have ever wanted. I was never so happy as I was when I was with him. When it came to an end, the break up and it's aftermath was torture. It took every fiber of my being not to fall apart at the seems. Just existing took exurbanite amounts of energy. It hurt to sit still. It hurt to move. It hurt to sleep. Nothing I could do could ease the feeling that my body was being torn apart from within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found someone new quickly, too quick. In hindsight, the new relationship was much like placing a band aid over a hemorrhaging limb. I forgot the stitches, the medicine, and most importantly the time it takes to heal. I was in such a rush to replace the pain with the excitement that comes with a new relationship that I ignored what I knew I should do; be alone and prove to myself that I can be strong on my own. I just wanted to be me again but I didn't realize that you can never find yourself in someone else. Time passed and of course, the new relationship came to an end. You cannot build a house on a ground plagued by fault lines that rumble and twist the foundation of the house. In the end when the band aid was torn off, I was faced with the same gaping hole. Only this time, I chose numbness. I chose NOT to feel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was tired of feeling heart broken. I was exhausted by the thought of feeling weak and vulnerable again. I became mean, heartless and unfeeling. Anyone that got too close, I violently pushed away. I slept with people I shouldn't have. I hurt people who didn't deserve it. And I shied away from those who wanted to help me. But I was tough. I didn't cry anymore. I didn't need anyone anymore. I didn't rely on one person and I was so happy to know that all I needed was me. I got sick, I took care of myself. I got scared of strange noises outside, I investigated it myself, relying only on a can of pepper spray. I needed help moving heavy things, I gritted my teeth and did it myself. I wanted to go to a nice dinner, I treated myself.  I did everything I was terrified I could never do alone after Dante and Brandon left. The only problem was, I wasn't healing. I was numb. I didn't feel anything but my need to be strong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew something within me was still very wrong because every time I entertained the idea of committing myself to someone in a relationship my heart raced. I would literally break into a sweat and my breathing would quicken at the thought of giving myself to someone again. To love is to be vulnerable, to trust, to give yourself up 100% to the other person believing with every fiber of yourself that the other person will do everything they can not to hurt you. Love is giving someone all the power to destroy you and trusting them that they won't. Up until last night, I refused to do that again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter what, I couldn't, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I wouldn't &lt;/span&gt;be left sitting alone and devastated on my couch with my Dad and Mom on each side of me staring at the ticking time bomb that was their daughter and waiting for her to crumble. I would not find myself curled up on the bathroom floor, after crying so badly that her body heaved enough to vomit. I would not be a shell of myself while trying to smile and convince those with concerned eyes that I was OK and my sallow eyes, and thin frame was only because of tiredness and not my inability to sleep or eat without my relationship. Those are the tangible things I remember. Those are the memories that surface every time I think of starting a new relationship. It can never be as if they never existed because no matter what, you ARE changed and those sickening memories of the pain and heart ache never fade. Last night, seeing my pain described &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;perfectly &lt;/span&gt;in words brought everything I had buried for the past year up to the surface and for the first time in awhile, I cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sobs racked my body harder than I've let them in so long. It was like I was catapulted back to that day in December when Dante left or that day in June when Brandon left. I was hurting all over again like my wound was reopened and raw. Nothing was protecting me anymore. Not sex, not a warm body, not the shallow attention of some random person. I was just me, alone and feeling my pain like I should have done months ago. I survived the pain then and I survived it last night.  I will always survive it. I am strong. Everything I ever wanted to be, I am. My break ups have molded me into a far more capable person than I ever was before. Tremendous amounts of good came from my break ups and I can't ignore the positive any more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relationships and the love, loss, hurt, pain, happiness and all the things that come in-between help to mold who you are. It builds your character, your convictions, your strength. If I continue on my quest to protect myself from feeling this pain again, I'm inevitably shutting out the many good things that come with it. I've been stopping my own growth this entire time. Love may hurt, it may destroy me again but I'm no longer going to avoid the start of something beautiful just because I fear the end of it. I still am terrified at the thought of a relationship but after last night, I'm no longer going to push people away, or clamor for the company of those who make it OK for me to settle. Because someone out there wanted me to read this passage, to feel again and I can't ignore it anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the holidays. My first holidays spent single. It's scary and lonely and hard but it's also exhilarating to know I can get through it and still enjoy every day with my friends and family. I will deal with my pain, my gaping wound, the right way. It will heal. I will heal. No more band aids. No more quick fixes. I want to be with someone some day, someone amazing, someone wonderful. He's out there. I know it. And until the day when I discover who he is, I'll be here. Existing. Living. On my own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-2046474896201606285?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/2046474896201606285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=2046474896201606285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/2046474896201606285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/2046474896201606285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/11/breakthrough.html' title='Breakthrough.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-484674230262092690</id><published>2008-11-25T09:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:30:21.344-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Newsflash: I am officially a 15 year old girl in a 24 year old's body.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/images/twilight" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i410.photobucket.com/albums/pp190/FindStuff2/Movies/Twilight/twilight7.jpg" border="0" alt="twilight Pictures, Images and Photos"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am writing this blog with full awareness of the embarassment I may suffer from actually publishing this to the internet, blog reading public (aka the few friends of mine who care enough to read this.)  I believe there is a pre-pubescent girl in all of us so called grown ups and I fully intend to never lose her. So as an ode to my inner teeny bopper, I'm giving her free reign of my blog today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really love the Twilight series! Not only is the story of Bella &amp; Edward a very endearing love story but the books themselves are extremely well written. I think it's a huge accomplishment as an author to write a book that appeals to tweens, teens, young adults and adults all over the world. My mom loved the books as much as I did and the 12 year old daughter of my hair dresser is just as obssessed as we are. And I'll admit it, I have joined the parade of girls with raging crushes on Edward Cullen, everyone's favorite vampire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Primarily, I have found this book comforting. It's my nightly security blanket. For an hour I'm able to slip into a fantasy world and take part in a relationship that I could only dream of having for myself one day. Stephanie Myers created a character with the exact qualities a girl of any age would look for in a male companion. Vampire or not, Edward Cullen is caring, thoughtful, protective and exudes just the right amount of mystery. My love life has been a little lackluster lately so it's been nice to be taken away from that for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie was amazing as well and Rob Pattinson may just be my new John Krasinski. I don't think I'll be naming my next dog after him but he's definitely celebrity crush worthy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to any and all of you who haven't yet read these books, I highly recommend it. Go see the movie, and if you're a girl, don't resist your swooing. It's totally OK to be in love with a fictional character. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and download "Never Think" by Rob Pattinson. It's a beautiful song. It brings the swoons (especially when you're feeling particularly swoon-less and hopeless that a once in a lifetime romance may never come your way). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for my inner 15 year old. I'm putting her to sleep in her New Kids on the Block sheets now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-484674230262092690?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/484674230262092690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=484674230262092690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/484674230262092690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/484674230262092690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/11/newsflash-i-am-officially-15-year-old.html' title='Newsflash: I am officially a 15 year old girl in a 24 year old&apos;s body.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-8128223539229977117</id><published>2008-11-25T09:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:34:23.285-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The song of November.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHMd_aEidI/AAAAAAAAACQ/F2eaUSuhRnQ/s1600-h/Forgotten_Fairytales_II_by_zemotion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHMd_aEidI/AAAAAAAAACQ/F2eaUSuhRnQ/s320/Forgotten_Fairytales_II_by_zemotion.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296739452373469650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*That face of an angel comes out just when you need it to, as I pace back and forth all this time cause I honestly believed in you. Holding on, the days drag on. Stupid girl; I should have known, I should have known that I'm not a princess. This ain't a fairytale. I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell. This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town. I was a dreamer before you went and let me down and now its too late for you and your White Horse to come around. Baby I was naïve, got lost in your eyes. I never really had a chance. I had so many dreams about you and me. Happy endings; now I know. Cause Im not your princess. This ain't a fairytale. Im gonna find someone, some day who might actually treat me well. This is a big world, that was a small town, there in my rearview mirror, disappearing now. And it's too late for you and your White Horse. Now its too late for you and your White Horse to catch me now.*&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;- Taylor Swift, "White Horse" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this song. It's beautiful and moving. And oddly helpful. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-8128223539229977117?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/8128223539229977117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=8128223539229977117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8128223539229977117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8128223539229977117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/11/song-of-november.html' title='The song of November.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHMd_aEidI/AAAAAAAAACQ/F2eaUSuhRnQ/s72-c/Forgotten_Fairytales_II_by_zemotion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-1945538823709792607</id><published>2008-11-18T11:39:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T14:42:36.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Over rocked &amp; face melted: my eye witness account of the alienation of 10,000 Smashing Pumpkins fans.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;current=smashing-pumpkins12.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/smashing-pumpkins12.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glenn, Robert and I went to see the Smashing Pumpkins on Sunday. The excitement in the car ride up to Mohegan Sun was palpable. I've known Robert and his Smashing Pumpkins obsession for almost 10 years now and I have to say that I was more excited to see his face than I was to see the actual band. I was given a Pumpkins "crash course" of songs that I should know, love and sing along to.  We were totally ready for an amazing, life changing and musically inspiring concert! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show started off with a strange trippy cocktail of lights, guitar effects and a borage of strange noises that slightly (in the loosest possible sense) resembled music. An immediate feeling of dread washed over me as I hoped the rest of the show wasn't going to follow this pattern. I felt an urge to drop acid just to be able to follow the lights and sounds coming from the stage. Thankfully, the Pumpkins began to play actual music and pleased both Glenn and Robert with playing a lot of obscure but amazing songs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite part of the evening was when Glenn screamed out to Rob and I, "I have been over rocked! My face? Melted." Billy and his subsequent Pumpkins were putting on an amazing, rocking and powerful show. I was ready to lean over to Robert and say that this was the best show I have ever seen but that's when things went terribly, terribly wrong....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one full hour and for one full 45 minute encore, all Billy Corgan orchestrated was an earfuck of indistinguishable noises reminiscent of a talentless Blue Man Group show gone wrong. It was torture. My ears bled. My eyes burned from the bright lights. My mind reeled from all the sounds. The boos started echoing over the loud "music" and it was apparent that everyone else shared my same sentiment; this sucked! Finally Billy's ego decided to desist in permanently ruining our memories of forever ago when he put on a show that would please someone other than himself and we were released. Walking out dumb founded, Rob said to both of us, "I really wish Billy just slapped me in the face and took my money instead." I'm pretty sure that would have been more enjoyable for all of us to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I will not be going to another Pumpkins show and I'm pretty sure Rob broke up with Billy on the car ride home. The highlight of my night? The delicious Wendy's we had on the way home. It almost made up for having to witness the slow and painful hour and a half suicide of Billy Corgan's career.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-1945538823709792607?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/1945538823709792607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=1945538823709792607' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/1945538823709792607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/1945538823709792607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/11/over-rocked-face-melted-my-eye-witness.html' title='Over rocked &amp; face melted: my eye witness account of the alienation of 10,000 Smashing Pumpkins fans.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-5828035481348096862</id><published>2008-11-06T14:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T15:04:37.834-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some hilarity to kick off November.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;current=ChihuahuaViansBigMacAttackMac3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/ChihuahuaViansBigMacAttackMac3.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halpert is collaborating with Kanye West on a new album called, "My Momz took my Greek Olivez" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all originated here....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:15:39 PM): lols! ohmygosh! I just realized this Kanye song says "moms"&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:15:52 PM): come see yuh mommsss!!&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:16:09 PM): "aint you meet that chick who's friends with your moms..."&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:16:25 PM): hahah i think halpert writes for kanye&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:16:48 PM): how funny would that be?! that's what halpert does when i'm not home&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:16:53 PM): he's like 'hola kanye!'&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:17:18 PM): hahah "god bless momzzz , wilzz, kanyezzz"&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:18:35 PM): all i can picture is halpert raising his paw up and down trying to be all gangsta with kanye&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:18:57 PM): hahaah&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:19:16 PM): wearing those sunglasses with the lines in them&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:20:30 PM): halpert's working on kanye's next hit 'my momz took my gweeeek ohhhlivvveezz.'&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:23:03 PM): Halpert's rapper name is Halpie Beats&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:23:37 PM): Puurt- Diddy&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:23:59 PM): Halpe 3000&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:24:14 PM): Halp Cube&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:24:24 PM): Halp Doggy Dogg&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:24:45 PM): Dr. Halp&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:25:00 PM): Notorious H.A.P.&lt;br /&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo (12:25:40 PM): Two already claims Two-pac...so you can't use that one :P&lt;br /&gt;GlennStefani (12:25:48 PM): ohh yeah good call!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halpert is hard core gangster.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-5828035481348096862?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/5828035481348096862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=5828035481348096862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/5828035481348096862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/5828035481348096862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/11/some-hilarity-to-kick-off-november.html' title='Some hilarity to kick off November.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-927904615449250748</id><published>2008-10-30T09:06:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T09:42:00.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My widget personality. :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width: 335px; height: 277px; line-height: 1px;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/personality_landscape.swf" FlashVars="clickstream=c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="242" width="330"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/personality/feedback/c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/readMyProfileLink.gif" alt="Youniverse Personality Test" width="147" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/personality/" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/youniverseLink.gif" alt="Youniverse Personality Test" width="183" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="width: 200px; line-height: 1px;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/party_portrait.swf" FlashVars="clickstream=c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="389" width="200"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/party/feedback/c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; width: 200px; height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/bottom_links_tall_top.gif" alt="Youniverse Party Test" width="200" height="21" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/party/" style="padding: 0; margin: 0;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/bottom_links_tall_bottom.gif" alt="Youniverse Party Test" width="200" height="36" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="width: 335px; height: 277px; line-height: 1px;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/mind_landscape.swf" FlashVars="clickstream=c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="242" width="330"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/mind/feedback/c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/readMyProfileLink.gif" alt="Youniverse Mind Test" width="147" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/mind/" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/youniverseLink.gif" alt="Youniverse Mind Test" width="183" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="width: 200px; line-height: 1px;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/lightmyfire_portrait.swf" FlashVars="clickstream=c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="389" width="200"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/lightmyfire/feedback/c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; width: 200px; height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/bottom_links_tall_top.gif" alt="Youniverse Light My Fire Test" width="200" height="21" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/lightmyfire/" style="padding: 0; margin: 0;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/bottom_links_tall_bottom.gif" alt="Youniverse Light My Fire Test" width="200" height="36" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="width: 335px; height: 277px; line-height: 1px;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/dating_landscape.swf" FlashVars="clickstream=c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="242" width="330"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/party/feedback/c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/readMyProfileLink.gif" alt="Youniverse dating Test" width="147" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/party/" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/youniverseLink.gif" alt="Youniverse dating Test" width="183" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="width: 335px; height: 277px; line-height: 1px;"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/movies_landscape.swf" FlashVars="clickstream=c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="242" width="330"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/movies/feedback/c11e8b96efc937f1fc7cdfd2cb80ce5f" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" border="0" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/readMyProfileLink.gif" alt="Youniverse Movies Test" width="147" height="35" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youniverse.com/movies/" style="padding: 0; margin: 0; float: left;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" style="border: none !important; padding: 0; margin: 0;" src="http://widgets.youniverse.com/youniverseLink.gif" alt="Youniverse Movies Test" width="183" height="35" /&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/6698199391120081177-927904615449250748?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/927904615449250748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=927904615449250748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/927904615449250748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/927904615449250748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-widget-personality.html' title='My widget personality. :)'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-3967223001406339878</id><published>2008-10-30T08:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:35:38.210-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Flower in the Rain.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHMwZ3k0aI/AAAAAAAAACY/f62qpqYhXKU/s1600-h/rain-flower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHMwZ3k0aI/AAAAAAAAACY/f62qpqYhXKU/s320/rain-flower.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296739768714187170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*You were sixteen and I was all wired. You were Venus di Milo inspired. You convinced me that I was OK. I convinced you that maybe you'd stay. If I thought that you'd give up on me, I'd have never said hello. We grew up and you grew away but I'd follow you till my dying day. All the guys that would try for your hand couldn't steal you from this desperate man. And this face that you see, well you know it ain't me. With this lack of resolve and of will, like a dog that won't learn, visions you can't discern. But you know me and you like me still. 26 and I've grown enough. I'm not better, but I won't give up. You're still here like a flower in rain. You get knocked down then you rise up again.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Stephen Kellogg &amp;amp; The Sixers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my favorite song of October. It's beautiful and endearingly sweet. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-3967223001406339878?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/3967223001406339878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=3967223001406339878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/3967223001406339878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/3967223001406339878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/10/flower-in-rain.html' title='Flower in the Rain.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHMwZ3k0aI/AAAAAAAAACY/f62qpqYhXKU/s72-c/rain-flower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-1663685782683322654</id><published>2008-10-24T13:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T14:28:15.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts for the end of October.</title><content type='html'>Two blogs in one week! My inner blogger is feeling extra vocal this week. It's slow at work so I could possibly chalk my urges to blog up to the hours of free time on my hands (you can only surf gossip websites for so long).  Plus, let's face it,  I have to use my English degree for something. Who would have thought that my hours spent slaving away on 30 page essays analyzing the work of world renowned authors would only aid in my one post college writing endeavour....an online blog. A blog that I'm pretty sure only five people read. Thanks URI. $20,000 well spent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy this masterfully written blog by an English major who graduated with a 3.98 and now uses her college degree as a pretty decoration in her apartment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the new Kings of Leon CD because I was sickeningly obsessed with their 'Sex on Fire' song. Mike Z. from Newbury Comics gave it a glowing review and I eagerly listened, and subsequently swooned once I got in my Yaris because how can someone rock gray hair at such a young age and still be that sexy? He could tell me to listen to the brand new Jonas Brother's CD and I'd nod my head, smile, and avidly agree that the Jonas Brother's are going to take over the world. In all honesty, the Kings of Leon CD is good but I wouldn't say it was life changing or ground breaking. It's like hard core Dave Matthews. It's listenable but not the orgasm for your ears that Mike Z. was claiming it to be. But you know the next time I go into Newbury I'm going to deny all of this and swear up and down that it's my favorite CD ever. I'm such a sucker for cute boys with gray hair. Swoon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeney and I have been watching horror movies all week. I couldn't sit through House of a 1,000 Corpses. It was profoundly disturbing to see my beloved Dwight/Rainn Wilson turned into a fish boy. Although, at least I know what happened to Chris Hartwick after Singled Out ended. I used to love that show. Feeney of course had no idea who or what I was talking about because he lived a sheltered, cable free childhood. I have now watched Poltergeist, Silence of the Lambs, The Ring, and one of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies. I think by Halloween I will have met my Halloween movie quota for the year. No more blood and guts for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Nightmare on Elm Street, I made a DAMN good female Freddy Krueger at Kelly's party last Saturday. How terrifying is this face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=n712630636_4502971_4495.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/n712630636_4502971_4495.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah. I'm one scary chick. :) Anyway, the party was a blast! I met a lot of new and super nice people. And I was reminded how old I was as I began to sober up and realize I was flirting with 19 year olds. I'm pretty sure that realization was scarier than anything else that will happen this Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halpert had a wonderful first birthday! He had lots of toys, company and a special birthday cake. His new favorite toy is Feeney's stuffed skeleton. He dug all the guts out of it and now it's flat but Halpert carries it with him wherever he goes. What an adorable little boy! He adores Feeney too which is the sweetest thing ever.  This is by far my favorite picture ever of my two best boys:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=friends.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/friends.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there will be various other Halloween activities to come this weekend. I'm looking forward to Havican's birthday tomorrow (he's getting to be such an old man but shhh)! It should be a good time. Maybe Halpert will even be nice to him this weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now kiddies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-1663685782683322654?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/1663685782683322654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=1663685782683322654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/1663685782683322654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/1663685782683322654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/10/thoughts-for-end-of-october.html' title='Thoughts for the end of October.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-7364632345389292357</id><published>2008-10-23T13:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:37:12.335-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just forget me, it's that simple.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHNJMOq1nI/AAAAAAAAACg/fixuWXYchQE/s1600-h/providence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHNJMOq1nI/AAAAAAAAACg/fixuWXYchQE/s320/providence.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296740194549683826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;*Just think of this and me as just a few of the many things to lie around,  to clutter up your shelves. And I wish you weren't worth the wait cause there are some things that I'd like to say to you. Now I could make this obvious and you, you could deny me all in one breath. Just go and shrug me off your shoulders...*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when I published the supposedly true (and shocking, don't forget shocking) story that I no longer missed &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;? That turned out to be an entirely FALSE story. It was like tabloid fodder written by a columnist who had a really shoddy and unreliable source. That person has since been fired. So here is my published correction: I miss &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. I still have strong feelings for &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; and I'm pretty sure he can continue to win me over by sending me lame-ass Border's email coupons. Forget flowers folks...the way to this girl's heart is discount book sales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing a really wonderful job at repressing/ignoring/forgetting/getting over my past (pick one, go with it, whatev) with &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; and also learning to let go of the hope that someday, down the line, he would come back home and we would magically pick up where we left off. I had this demented fantasy that my life would work out perfectly like one of those neat serendipity based movies where the two main characters take completely different paths in life but inevitably get reunited because their love was just that meant to be. Like Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks or Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams. Then I realized that there's a reason why I'm thinking of movies instead of actual realistic instances. Reason being...situations like that usually don't work out. Reality states that the guy who left the girl will find a new girl in new location and girl left behind will slut herself out with random dudes to fill the big black hole the guy left when he left. No reunion. No serendipity. And certainly no happily ever after...at least not for the two of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the last few months since &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:City&gt;'s departure to the Windy city purposely putting myself in romantic situations where I could not or would not seriously fall for any other guy in the hopes that &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; would come back. Then it dawned on me that this behavior was not only self destructive but also terribly hurtful to the guys who were involved in my life. And why should I deprive myself of a really wonderful guy just for the slight chance to rekindle a relationship with a guy who didn't even care enough about me to try to make it work at a distance? I finally realized that I needed to let go of my &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did. I really tossed myself into something that I think/thought could/will (you choose the word because I can't) be something really good for me. I finally started to feel happy and on my way to the old Johnna, pre &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;, pre Dante, pre heartbreak. Then...WHAM! POW! Total sucker punch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to square one. Back to fighting back the gigantic lump in my throat every time I even step foot in the Providence Place Mall. Back to hiding my DVD of Enchanted. Back to where I was before he ever left. That's the funny thing about repression. You can ignore your feelings all you want but all it takes is ONE  thing to bring them back into the forefront as strong as ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time healed me with Dante. I can now converse with him through email, and on the phone, and not feel an inkling of regret or loss. I know we were not meant to be and I am completely okay with being his friend. I care about him and I always will but the buck stops there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to let time do it's magical healing thing on my feelings for &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Brandon&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. If they're meant to go away, they will. I need to just be in my thoughts and let them take their course rather than push them down and away from me. I can't rush this because I don't think I'll ever get over him if I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him. I miss the silliest things too. I miss how his chain used to clink against the side of his jeans when he walked. I miss how he insisted on making the bed sheets perfectly tucked in and wrinkle free before we went to bed. I miss his skeleton gloves. I miss how weird his ears used to look with his plugs out. I miss pulling into his parking lot and walking up to his door. I miss Spike (RIP). I miss sitting in his car and shuffling through his ipod. I miss how dorky he used to look singing Michael Buble. I miss knowing he was on the other side of &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Providence&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; while I was sitting in my office. I just plain old miss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my life and my feelings are a constant work in progress. I think any 24 year old girl's life is going to be that way. I thought I was on the right track to making an important decision but I think I missed a turn. I have to reverse and figure out how to correct myself on the inside before going any further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now folks. I'm thinking my next blog will be about something far less dramatic....like my new love for baking cupcakes or Halpert's new obsession with his skeleton toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-7364632345389292357?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/7364632345389292357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=7364632345389292357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7364632345389292357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7364632345389292357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-forget-me-its-that-simple.html' title='Just forget me, it&apos;s that simple.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHNJMOq1nI/AAAAAAAAACg/fixuWXYchQE/s72-c/providence.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-8035964698195695838</id><published>2008-10-15T14:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:38:54.264-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chihuahua birthday parties &amp; other fun fall activities.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHNgDSmFTI/AAAAAAAAACo/Ruepw3z6EM0/s1600-h/chihuahua.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 297px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHNgDSmFTI/AAAAAAAAACo/Ruepw3z6EM0/s320/chihuahua.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296740587287221554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow! I kind of suck at keeping my blog updated. Every day I set a goal to write something,  but then I'd get easily distracted by such important things as Scrabulous, Perezhilton.com, or the all too imperative AIM conversations with Glenn about serious world issues (and by world issues I mean  talk of "nomming" and the lameness of his music taste.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prime example of our actual live conversation at this moment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="583" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(215, 51, 6);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:44:44 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;it just makes you want to stuff your face with cookies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="584" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(15, 5, 149);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GlennStefani&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:45:19 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;oh i can imagine!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="585" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(215, 51, 6);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:45:33 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-0;"&gt;&lt;img contenteditable="false" alt="" /&gt;:o" src="aolbart:/1024/id/2B0000028E/3E3A6F" unselectable="on"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;--- me about to stuff my face with cookies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="586" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(15, 5, 149);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GlennStefani&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:48:39 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;youre gonna nom like crazy!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="587" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(215, 51, 6);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:49:07 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;total super nom!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="588" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(15, 5, 149);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GlennStefani&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:49:12 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;haha then super vom!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="589" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(215, 51, 6);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;LiTLDeViLJoMo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:51:41 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;guess what song im listening to?! &lt;span style="font-size:-0;"&gt;&lt;img contenteditable="false" alt=";-)" src="aolbart:/1024/id/2B0000028E/3B2D29" unselectable="on" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="590" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(15, 5, 149);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GlennStefani&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:51:49 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Lemme guessss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id="591" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(15, 5, 149);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;GlennStefani&lt;/b&gt;&lt;aim:timestamp style="display: inline; font-size: 11px;"&gt; (3:51:59 PM)&lt;/AIM:timestamp&gt;:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;the luckiest????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="592" style="background-color: transparent;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(215, 51, 6);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He is right by the way. I swear I have this Ben Folds song on repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's my life in a nutshell...maybe not a nutshell because I'm allergic. Here's my life in a clamshell....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Halpert's birthday is Saturday! I can't believe I've had him a whole year! I just love that little boy so much. He's just too stinkin cute. He's expelled from Brown because of ferocious Chihuahua behavior and I'm beginning to have irrational fears that my apartment will catch on fire when he's there by himself. I wish I could hire a full time dog sitter. I don't know what I'd do without that boy. The party for him is on Sunday and all of his faves, and not so faves will be there for him to lick, growl and wag his tail at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) Halloween is soon! I am going to be the sluttified, female version of Freddy Krueger. I vowed I'd be something scary this year and what's scarier than that?! Although, maybe my version of Freddy would only haunt you in crazy sex dreams. That would be awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) Don't ask me to explain what's going on in my romantic life because at this point, you'd probably have a better idea than I would. I think I may just hand my personal life over to Robert for awhile and let him straighten it out. As of right now, Halpert is the only man in my life I'm trusting to sleep in my bed. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) I need to stop shopping. I no longer have room in my closet (literally; I can't fit a hanger in it). I pretty much no longer have room in my bank account either. Countdown to zero debt begins now. Hopefully by July I will be 100% debt free. Hoo-ray! I say that now but as we speak I'm probably eyeing the Express website looking for yet another shirt I don't need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.) I'm trying to grow my hair out. Why did I cut it again? I always do this! I can never just keep it long. I get too antsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.) I miss Barb. True story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.) I no longer miss Brandon. A shocking but true story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.) I'm starting to fear that I became too independent to let anyone in again. Working on it...and so far, failing. The idea of relying on someone is terrifying. I'm thinking of making it my New Year's resolution but we all know how often people end up sticking to those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.) I am now an auntie times 3! My three little nieces Juliana, Olivia, and Nicole. By the time I make it down to Florida, I'll probably have three daughters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.) I can't wait for it to get really chilly. I have such cute sweaters that are just dying to be worn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now kiddies! :) I promise to write more soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(215, 51, 6);"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&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/6698199391120081177-8035964698195695838?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/8035964698195695838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=8035964698195695838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8035964698195695838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/8035964698195695838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/10/chihuahua-birthday-parties-other-fun.html' title='Chihuahua birthday parties &amp; other fun fall activities.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHNgDSmFTI/AAAAAAAAACo/Ruepw3z6EM0/s72-c/chihuahua.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-7472347501437064034</id><published>2008-09-30T08:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:41:33.645-06:00</updated><title type='text'>32 Flavors.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHOKUwUveI/AAAAAAAAACw/4qoO6A_AzpE/s1600-h/ani+difranco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHOKUwUveI/AAAAAAAAACw/4qoO6A_AzpE/s320/ani+difranco.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296741313529822690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Squint your eyes and look closer, I'm not between you and your ambition. I am a poster girl with no poster. I am thirty-two flavors and then some. And I'm beyond your peripheral vision so you might want to turn your head cause someday you're going to get hungry and eat most of the words you just said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both my parents taught me about good will and I have done well by their names. Just the kindness I've lavished on strangers is more than I can explain, still there's many who've turned out their porch lights just so I would think they were not home and hid in the dark of their windows til I'd passed and left them alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God help you if you are an ugly girl, course too pretty is also your doom cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room. And God help you if you are a pheonix and you dare to rise up from the ash, athousand eyes will smolder with jealousy while you are just flying back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not trying to give my life meaning by demeaning you and I would like to state for the record I did everything that I could do. I'm not saying  that I'm a saint. I just don't want to live that way. No, I will never be a saint, but I will always say squint your eyes and look closer. I'm not between you and your ambition. I am a poster girl with no poster. I am thirty-two flavors and then some. And I'm beyond your peripheral vision so you might want to turn your head cause someday you might find you're starving and eating all of the words you said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ani DiFranco&lt;br /&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/6698199391120081177-7472347501437064034?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/7472347501437064034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=7472347501437064034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7472347501437064034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7472347501437064034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/09/32-flavors.html' title='32 Flavors.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHOKUwUveI/AAAAAAAAACw/4qoO6A_AzpE/s72-c/ani+difranco.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-7305508413148395379</id><published>2008-09-25T11:02:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T11:41:42.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My vow to blog!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I've been a purely sporadic blogger in the past. I only wrote when I felt inspired or overwhelmed by certain aspects of my life. Consequently I've created literary black holes between my epic blogs that fail to depict my day to day inner workings of my sometimes cluttered, sometimes confused, always cheery mind. So this is my vow to blog on the mundane, the ordinary, and the sometimes salacious events of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made cookies and cupcakes last night and I still have green food coloring embedded in my nails. It's distracting me from writing because I keep lifting up my pinkie and ring finger to stare intently at the green ridges around my nails; like the pure power of my stare will make the food coloring disappear. So far, my stare is powerless against the green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I watched Teeth last night. What better way to kick off the Halloween season than eating cupcakes and cookies while watching a horror movie about a girl who has teeth in her vagina? Surprisingly, the movie wasn't that bad! Granted I've now seen more bloody, castrated penises than I've ever cared to see in my lifetime but all the genital gore aside, I liked it! I still find it incredibly hard to believe that one girl would be taken advantage of sexually by that many men but then again, I was watching a movie about a vagina with teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best quote of the movie, "I haven't jerked off since Easter!" (Which by the way, by this movie's standards is a decent enough of an excuse to rape someone.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After everyone left, I was once again reminded that I have to call my landlord about the clog in my kitchen sink. Washing huge cupcake pans is really tedious in my tiny bathroom sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading "Running With Scissors" (I know, this book came out awhile ago, give me a break, I'm late to jump on the band wagon!) before bed every night. Last night the chapter "Mastabatorium" just didn't sit well with me after watching Teeth. Something is creepy about a therapist who has a Mastabatorium he uses between clients for when he needs to "relieve himself." It made me wonder if any of my doctors have ever done that. It's just strange to think of your doctor doing anything else other than walking around in a white lab coat writing prescriptions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Ben Folds day. I'm excited! I hope he plays "The Luckiest." It's such a beautiful song. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this ends my vow to blog for the day. I leave you with the pictures of my new niece, Miss Nicole Silvestri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=nicole.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/nicole.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=icole2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/icole2.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=nicole1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh168/johnnamoretti2/nicole1.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/6698199391120081177-7305508413148395379?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/7305508413148395379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=7305508413148395379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7305508413148395379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/7305508413148395379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-vow-to-blog.html' title='My vow to blog!'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-5160912232651021138</id><published>2008-04-30T10:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:44:34.947-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An Open Letter to No One.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHO3o01kXI/AAAAAAAAAC4/MLwVxhMkLDE/s1600-h/jump_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHO3o01kXI/AAAAAAAAAC4/MLwVxhMkLDE/s320/jump_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296742092011573618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Do you ever feel like you have your back turned to the edge of a metaphorical cliff that's as monumental in size as it is in importance but the balls of your feet are just resting in limbo, rocking back and forth between solid ground and space? Rocks and dirt slip beneath your weight and plummet over the side of the cliff and your heart races within your chest because you know you'll soon have to meet a similar fate. You'll have to fall. Let go. Cease thought. Cease worry. Cease resistance and trust that your feet will land calmly and softly on solid ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're frozen; caught in the crux of a battle between your head and your heart. Your heart is innocent and open, filled with unwavering faith and optimism. Your head is cynical, jaded, and unwilling to give up its need to protect, to maintain....to survive. What wins? What will be the ultimate leader of your feet? The decider of your ability to make the perpetual fall? The leader of your near and distant future? The ultimate guide of your life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose to fall. I chose to take a leap, to trust my heart, to trust in faith and above all else, to trust in my own strength to survive the consequences of my choice. Even if my feet landed on unsteady ground, and my body met the hard ground with a thud that shook my core, I would never regret my decision to fall. I will always believe that it takes more conviction to love unfailingly and leap into the wonders of the unknown than to spend your energy meticulously routing the pathways of least risk. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Methodical thought. Perverse logic. Pain staking analysis. I strongly admire you for following steadfastly in your belief to always abide by these principles. All of your actions are robotic, systematic, disciplined, precise. You do not say things you don't sincerely mean. You do not do things that you may later regret. You listen to your head above all else. You act in a fashion that will cause the least amount of damage, hurt, tears, regrets, pain to you and those around you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;But you are contrived. Guarded. Elusive. Intangible. Enigmatic. Arcane. Deadpan. Indifferent. Apathetic. Cold. Anesthetized. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;You are the exact opposite of me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I fell. I plunged off of the cliff. I gave myself up to the possibility of heartbreaking pain. And you stayed. Rooted. Grounded. Safe.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;My fall was met with a stiff resistance resembling the collision of two planes mid flight, reality smacking my chest and robbing the air from my lungs. I felt each tear hit my chest bouncing off my skin and echoing the words 'You. Chose. Wrong,' with each drop. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Maybe I should have gingerly backed away from the edge of my mighty cliff, cradling my pride and my heart in their delicate states with two protective hands. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Would I continue to sleep as soundly as I did before I met you or would my head resonate with regret, wonder, and doubt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I would rather fall asleep heartbroken and wise then lay my sound body down with a questioning heart.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I still believe in following my truest and most sincere feelings and tumbling forward with a reckless abandon that you could never possess. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I would fall ten times over for you, each time knowing the hard ground that waited below me. You say that you've been burned and that your heart has learned from its mistakes. I hope that mine never does. I want my heart to continue to love like it's the first time it's ever heard of such a thing. I want it to race and flutter every time I see you. I want it to ache and feel empty when you hurt me. I want it to swell with happiness when you don't. I want it to know that even if it gets broken, that it will repair and it is stronger than anything that can happen to it. And at the end of me, and the end of my heart, I want it to know that it was resilient in its need to innocently love and to blindly fall for any and all of those who touched it. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;                                                               &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&amp;amp;friendID=207040859&amp;amp;blogID=388282312&amp;amp;Mytoken=80319316-57A5-4B25-B3ADEC4818E6BBE845263799"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.comment&amp;amp;friendID=207040859&amp;amp;blogID=388282312&amp;amp;ticket=MHMGCisGAQQBgjdYA5%2BgZTBjBgorBgEEAYI3WAMBoFUwUwIDAgABAgJmAwICAMAECON67DEjhesaBBCu8rHD6AD1nv6lF%2BgirED0BCiCXpVBNoKzIbAx04JI9uYVyiGsyv6TYntbo0Q%2FWk7R7%2FPHHmxKhhhh&amp;amp;BlogCategoryID=12&amp;amp;Mytoken=80319316-57A5-4B25-B3ADEC4818E6BBE845263799"&gt;&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-5160912232651021138?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/5160912232651021138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=5160912232651021138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/5160912232651021138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/5160912232651021138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/09/open-letter-to-no-one.html' title='An Open Letter to No One.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SYHO3o01kXI/AAAAAAAAAC4/MLwVxhMkLDE/s72-c/jump_3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-4913592387013218068</id><published>2008-02-04T10:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T10:31:45.182-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts brought to you by Gavin Castleton.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Our governments    could’ve co-existed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   My wild tyranny could’ve been rhythm to your soft democracy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;building a language and crumbling a cold war in one shot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt; Our relationship was a tug of war, test of time and confidence: pushing the previous night outward against the will of my eyelids and the "right-now-ness" of a whole kingdom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Love for you is    responsibility. Eating, for me, is distracting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   Art is a blanket that covers you for warmth or ignorance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   You shift with plane rides. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   Where you live is a truck stop clerk,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;see millions fall by with nickel eyes and pavement wounds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   Don’t let them in the bathroom – tell them that you’re cleaning    it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I’VE BEEN IN IT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I gave you space – you took it and ran with my closure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I think you left because I looked happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I think you hide because you’re lazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I think you lie because you’re yellow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I deserve concern, I deserve a return letter, you know better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;   I never wrote you great poems, I just meant them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;You never tried to save our friendship, you just went numb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);"&gt;I have to thank Gavin Castleton for being creative enough not to fall into the stereotypically "Emo" methodology of song writing. Many kudos to you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/6698199391120081177-4913592387013218068?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/4913592387013218068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=4913592387013218068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4913592387013218068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/4913592387013218068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/09/thoughts-brought-to-you-by-gavin.html' title='Thoughts brought to you by Gavin Castleton.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6698199391120081177.post-1605915267369113981</id><published>2007-11-12T04:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T10:27:16.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiny little holes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;Remember when I said that my last blog would be my final Dante blog of all time? Yeah, about that....I definitely lied. We are not back together so restrain your panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's late and I can't sleep and I'm listening to Aqualung, which turns out to be a lot more depressing than I remember. Earlier today, I had one of the hardest moments since I ended my relationship with Dante. I don't know what brought it on. I honestly wish I knew which thought processes led to this overwhelmingly difficult feeling that came upon me so that I could spend the rest of my life trying to avoid it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at my desk at work and all of a sudden it felt as if my insides were being ripped apart beyond repair. I just couldn't move. My eyes watered but I was in so much pain that I didn't even want to cry. I just stared. I kept thinking to myself that this feeling was wreaking serious havoc on my heart. It sounds extraordinarily Emo but in all seriousness, I could &lt;i&gt;feel&lt;/i&gt; my heart break. A few deep breaths later, I felt a little better but I still felt like I had just lived through a moment that changed me inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't going to write a blog tonight but listening to this one Aqualung song made me understand what had happened to me and I am compelled to share it with my loving friends. :)  "Another Little Hole" talks about none other than tiny little holes in a girl's heart and how she actually feels it happen each day. I guess I had my first tiny little hole. I'm guessing these 'tiny little heart holes' are similar to nasty paper cuts or hangnails. Sure the cut is small and of course you put on a brave face to the outside world because really, it's just a paper cut. Inside though, your cut still hurts and pulsates enough throughout the day for you to always feel it there. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;I've recovered from the initial tear but my heart feels a little empty. I find myself really terrified to let myself get to a point again where someone can cause 'tiny little heart holes.' I suppose that this is normal break up behavior and that most of the world eventually forget about the hurt they were in when they meet someone new. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;I've just never been hurt this bad before. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;Sometimes it makes me want to hermit myself up into my apartment and hide under the covers until I'm old. I can be a crazy Halpert lady. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;So, I plan to completely go against my cravings to never wear make up or do my hair and wear baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants everyday. I'm trying my hardest to move on.  I feel like this is something I need to do for myself. I'm not looking for another relationship and I'm certainly not trying to find the man I'm going to marry. I'm a little too broken and heart hole-y right now to focus on that. I just want to be around guys that will remind me that the whole male population isn't a bunch of heart breaking louts. (I've really been dying to use that word) And as selfish as it sounds, I want to make sure that I don't get comfortable holing up in my apartment every weekend night with a book and Halpert. I need to get back out there and experience this crazy thing called dating. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;That is where my head is at right now. Why I'm up at 4:30am thinking about all of this? Waking up sucks because for a brief moment, I forget that Dante and I are broken up and I think that I'm lying next to him. Then I look over and realize that it's just a bunch of stuffed animals strategically placed to feel like a human body. So since I'm up, I don't think I want to go back to sleep again and do it all over. I suppose John Mayer described it best when he said, when you're dreaming with a broken heart, waking up is the hardest part.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;I think my next blog will be cheerier. At least, that's what I am aiming for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6698199391120081177-1605915267369113981?l=jdanimoretti.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/feeds/1605915267369113981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6698199391120081177&amp;postID=1605915267369113981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/1605915267369113981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6698199391120081177/posts/default/1605915267369113981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdanimoretti.blogspot.com/2008/09/tiny-little-holes.html' title='Tiny little holes.'/><author><name>Johnna Danielle</name><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/_Hb6YpGUMuRM/SXniD889unI/AAAAAAAAABw/8RcyaDBzmdE/S220/l_3b6f4db62c1a86dabd66ba11a92c13a1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
