<?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-6375563</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:53:37.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>so long sweet summer</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>227</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-9106367183257616406</id><published>2008-11-26T21:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T19:19:31.281-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cringe - it's not just a reading at Freddy's Have you ever done something really embarrassing or shameful? Perhaps you waved down a friend down the street only to realize that the person is a complete stranger. Or maybe you accidentally greeted your boss with “Hi Mom” because you just got off the phone with your real mom and your boss also sports floral dresses and a soccer mom perm. Maybe it was</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/9106367183257616406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=9106367183257616406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/9106367183257616406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/9106367183257616406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2008/11/cringe-its-not-just-reading-at-freddys.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-3173247096263862028</id><published>2007-04-24T02:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T18:51:25.632-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Faith without FearAt an especially dark time, I asked Salman Rushdie why I should write a book that might endanger my life. I’ll never forget his answer: “A book is more important than a life. Once you put out a thought, it can be disagreed with vigorously, vehemently, even violently. But it cannot be un-thought. This is the great permanent gift that a writer gives to the world.”Notice he wasn’t </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/3173247096263862028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=3173247096263862028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/3173247096263862028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/3173247096263862028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2007/04/faith-without-fear-at-especially-dark.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-6478003007993650653</id><published>2007-03-02T16:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T18:46:13.532-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Booty Nomad Something seemed off about her description of her love. I didn't seem to be involved. She loved the way I treated her and the way my loving her made her feel. But did she love me? Not the me who listened or shopped or was nice to her dog, but the me who watched baseball games and loved to read and knew obscure Monty Python quotes by heart. The me who wished he could play guitar and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/6478003007993650653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=6478003007993650653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/6478003007993650653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/6478003007993650653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2007/03/something-seemed-off-about-her.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-116927700942118175</id><published>2007-01-20T01:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T18:46:34.988-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Big HappyThere it was. My first composition book. The one that, along with my first-grade ditto, really put my on the road to writing. I still remembered my eight-grade English teacher, Mr. Paulson, telling me how special I was. How I was going to be a great writer some day. I cracked the book, ready to be dazzled.Ten minutes and eight compositions later, my stomach started to hurt. This kid </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/116927700942118175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=116927700942118175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116927700942118175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116927700942118175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2007/01/there-it-was.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-116777323041974617</id><published>2007-01-02T16:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T18:46:56.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Generation MeOrdinary people can also find a taste of fame on the Internet. Anyone can put up a Web page, start a LiveJournal, or post to message boards. Blogs are built around the idea that everyone wants to hear your thoughts. Had a bad day? Tell the world about it on LiveJournal. Proud of your athletic ability, your family, your hobbies, your witty writing? Create your own Web page.If you </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/116777323041974617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=116777323041974617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116777323041974617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116777323041974617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2007/01/ordinary-people-can-also-find-taste-of.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-116301890529907104</id><published>2006-11-08T15:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T14:23:15.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Miss American PieAbout the time I started being grounded, I started writing things down; it gave me something to do. Writing to and for myself had an acceptably low risk factor for feeling misunderstood or ignored, and it was a form of conversation I came to value more and more.**********I have heard it said that there are two times in your life when you stand a chance, in the face of whatever </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/116301890529907104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=116301890529907104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116301890529907104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116301890529907104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/11/miss-american-pie-about-time-i-started.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-116114945240945767</id><published>2006-10-18T01:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T14:25:11.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Speak. I need a new friend. I need a friend, period. Not a true friend, nothing close or share clothes or sleepover giggle giggle yak yak. Just a pseudo-friend, disposable friend. Friend as accessory. Just so I don't feel and look so stupid.You'd be shocked at how many adults are really dead inside - walking through their days with no idea who they are, just waiting for a heart attack or cancer </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/116114945240945767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=116114945240945767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116114945240945767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/116114945240945767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/10/speak.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115997633833434730</id><published>2006-10-10T11:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T12:08:51.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Cinema Paradiso.Sooner or later a time comes when it's all the same whether you talk or not, so you might as well shut up.Living here day after day, you think it's the center of the world. You're young and the world is yours. And I'm old. I don't want to hear you talk anymore. I want to hear others talk about you. ~Words of wisdom from Alfredo, Cinema ParadisoGiuseppe Tornatore's classic tale </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115997633833434730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115997633833434730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115997633833434730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115997633833434730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/10/cinema-paradiso.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115997650541749967</id><published>2006-10-04T11:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T18:24:17.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Year of the Dog. My favorite chapter books when I was younger were by Carolyn Haywood - "B" is for Betsy and Eddie and His Big Deals. The stories took place in school, in Betsy's home, and in Eddie's neighbrohood. They had families and ate dinner and waited for the bus. THey were normal families without unicorns or fairy princesses, but the stories were magical to me. When I read those books, it </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115997650541749967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115997650541749967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115997650541749967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115997650541749967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/10/year-of-dog.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115936693643514172</id><published>2006-09-30T10:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T17:31:50.893-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Grab on to Me Tightly as if I Knew the Way.Trudy asks do I wanna smoke a bowl."No way. That'd push me right over the edge.""Into what?""Depression. Anxiety, Paranoia. Insanity, basically. One of those graves..""God, people are so weird," she says. "It's not drugs that make you that way, you know. It's the way we all already are."Grab on to Me Tightly as if I Knew the Way, Bryan CharlesA coming of</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115936693643514172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115936693643514172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115936693643514172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115936693643514172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/09/grab-on-to-me-tightly-as-if-i-knew-way.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115924854595482564</id><published>2006-09-26T01:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T18:22:11.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Kite Runner.The custom is to not let the sheep see the knife.  Ali feeds the animal a cube of sugar - another custom, to make death sweeter.  The sheep kicks, but not much.  The mullah grabs it under its jaw and places the blade on its neck.  Just a second before he slices the throat in one expert motion, I see the sheep's eyes.  It is a look that will haunt my dreams for week.s I don't know </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115924854595482564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115924854595482564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115924854595482564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115924854595482564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/09/kite-runner.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115848051354723081</id><published>2006-09-21T03:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T18:14:45.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bandanas &amp; October SuppliesWhile you can't judge a book by its cover, I wouldn't have read this book if not for the back cover, which reads:The author of this book does not believe in disingenuous jacket blurbs, insincere product descriptions, or intrusive biographical information. He believes that less information regarding the content of a serious book is beneficial to the reading experience.In</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115848051354723081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115848051354723081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115848051354723081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115848051354723081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/09/bandanas-october-supplies-while-you.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115847949567302621</id><published>2006-09-17T03:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T17:36:56.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hello. My Name Is...How are you doing today? Maybe we can talk for a little while and then we can go get some 49 cent cheeseburgers at McDonald's. Baby!       - Philip Wang, "Yellow Fever"When I was looking for an apartment, I frequently ran across ads that requested, "Send your mySpace or FaceBook link." I prided myself on the fact that I didn't belong to either, that I had risen above the lure </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115847949567302621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115847949567302621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115847949567302621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115847949567302621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/09/hello.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115128741334850897</id><published>2006-09-05T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T01:14:12.713-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>su casa es mi casa.Ben: (holds out his keys and plays with them) Ok....it's uh....a smooth, hard, round loop, connecting three shiny sharp metal.Kinney: No, no. Don't say metal.Ben: Connecting three, uh, shiny, sharp, hard, thin, strips, which have teeth -- sort of.Kinney: Ok. Now, talk about the object subjectively. Ben: They're my keys to my apartment.Kinney: Why are these keys important to you</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115128741334850897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115128741334850897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115128741334850897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115128741334850897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/09/su-casa-es-mi-casa.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115847070988320323</id><published>2006-09-02T01:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T01:56:17.916-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Dinner with Andre.I mean, we're just walking around in some kind of fog. I think we're all in a trance! We're walking around like zombies! I don't think we're even aware of ourselves or our own reaction to things, we're just going around all day like unconscious machines, I mean, while there's all of this rage and worry and uneasiness just building up and building up inside us!**********</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115847070988320323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115847070988320323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115847070988320323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115847070988320323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/09/my-dinner-with-andre.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115581594579995418</id><published>2006-08-19T07:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T19:27:59.816-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Taiwan, et cetera. A laundry list of observations because I'm too lazy to organize my experiences into anything coherent and because incoherence seems to best sum up the trip:Betel nut girls.  Scantily clad girls sell betel nuts on the streets in neon-lit, Hello Kitty decorated roadstands.  The tour guide wanted to stop so that we could try the local flavor - the betel nuts, not the girl.  One </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115581594579995418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115581594579995418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581594579995418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581594579995418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/08/taiwan-et-cetera.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115581588871507032</id><published>2006-08-18T07:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T18:00:44.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>National Palace Museum - home of 70,000 artifacts taken from the Mainland during Chiang Kai-Shek's flee.  Somewhere in mainland China there sits an empty museum waiting for something to display...  Things of interest:  Jade...everythingMan, the Chinese sure love their jade.  There were jade bear goddesses, jade pig-dragons, jade cicadas, jade jewelry, jade weapons.  However the winner of the day </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115581588871507032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115581588871507032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581588871507032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581588871507032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/08/national-palace-museum-home-of-70000.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115581549022512261</id><published>2006-08-17T08:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T01:48:26.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Why We Fight.  When I was in college, I met many people who were well-traveled after annual vacations with their parents to foreign locales such as Thailand and France and India.  I was so envious and wondered why my family never went on vacations like that.  Now, upon reflecting on my recent trip to Taiwan with my parents, I remember why we don't.Fight #1 - Cerritos We've not even left the house</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115581549022512261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115581549022512261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581549022512261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581549022512261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/08/why-we-fight.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115581580241359225</id><published>2006-08-17T07:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-19T01:42:15.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Gullible's Travels. As Christian Finnegan once said (paraphrased) about traveling with loved ones, "let's take a stressful situation and make it even more stressful."  Traveling, even when on a cushy far-from-roughing-it tour can be stressful.  There's the necessity of punctuality for a minute-by-minute schedule coupled with an inescapable close proximity.  This is inevitably a recipe for bad </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115581580241359225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115581580241359225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581580241359225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115581580241359225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/08/gullibles-travels.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115384531229548806</id><published>2006-07-25T12:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T23:35:23.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Crimes and MisdemeanorsWe're all faced throughout our lives with agonizing decisions, moral choices. Some are on a grand scale, most of these choices are on lesser points. But we define ourselves by the choices we have made. We are, in fact, the sum total of our choices. Events unfold so unpredictably, so unfairly, Human happiness does not seem to be included in the design of creation. it is only</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115384531229548806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115384531229548806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115384531229548806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115384531229548806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/07/crimes-and-misdemeanors-were-all-faced.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115229060866599447</id><published>2006-07-18T12:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T06:12:21.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Girls For Breakfast. Eighty percent of the reason I was considered the type of student who would take honors classes was because I was Korean, and Asian Americans have a reputation for being brainiacs…My parents assumed I’d been hit by an intelligence ray as well, but evenutally I proved them all wrong.  At first this was a source of pride for me – I was almost defiant about how stupid (and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115229060866599447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115229060866599447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115229060866599447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115229060866599447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/07/girls-for-breakfast.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115327603162611834</id><published>2006-07-10T22:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T06:13:24.173-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What Jim had, above all, was enthusiasm, He'd weigh facts against possibilities as if the two were equivalent. A lot of students had joined PIH for a decade by now, and done a lot of its most menial chores along the way. What Jim had, above all, was enthusiasm. He'd weigh possibilities as if the two were equivalent. A lot of students had joined PIH after hearing him talk. Change the world? Of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115327603162611834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115327603162611834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115327603162611834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115327603162611834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/07/what-jim-had-above-all-was-enthusiasm.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115422541018690115</id><published>2006-07-06T22:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T06:13:50.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>To Jim, attempts at imitation would put the emphasis where it didn't belong. The goal was to improve the lives of others, not oneself. "It's not about the quest for personal efficacy," as Paul himself liked to say… "Paul is a model of what should be done. He's not the model for how it should be done."… "Because if the poor have to wait for a lot of people like Paul to come along before they get </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115422541018690115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115422541018690115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115422541018690115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115422541018690115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/07/to-jim-attempts-at-imitation-would-put.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115341291501602496</id><published>2006-07-04T12:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T12:45:14.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Little sleep, no investment portfolio, no family around, no hot water. On an evening a few days after arriving in Cange, I wondered aloud what compensation [Dr. Paul Farmer] got for these various hardships. He told me, "If you're making sacrifices, unless you're automatically following some rule, it stands to reason that you're trying to lessen some psychic discomfort. So, for example, if I took </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115341291501602496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115341291501602496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115341291501602496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115341291501602496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/07/little-sleep-no-investment-portfolio.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115341227928389117</id><published>2006-06-20T12:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T12:18:28.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Requisite of Personal ResponsibilityIn a study of 96 business students Staw and Fox (1977) gave the subjects a choice between making an R&amp;D investment in either an underperforming company department, or in other sections of the hypothetical company. Staw and Fox divided the participants into two groups; a low responsibility condition and a high responsibility condition. In the high </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115341227928389117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115341227928389117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115341227928389117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115341227928389117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/06/requisite-of-personal-responsibility.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115116487399725916</id><published>2006-05-28T11:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T12:47:06.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Crunchy granola. adj. A term used to describe a person with hippie-ish leanings to be in touch with nature.  For example, He tends the vegetables in the community garden because he is crunch granola like that.Crusty.adj. Derived from the resulting crust that forms on the skin when one does not shower. For example, I become crusty when I go camping.***************Not long ago, I was a Purell-er.  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115116487399725916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115116487399725916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115116487399725916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115116487399725916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/05/crunchy-granola.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-115110330622139243</id><published>2006-05-23T18:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T20:19:36.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Will work for (campus)food, a dot com.One seldom hears work described as a calling anymore. Work may be “interesting” and “Creative” or dull and boring. It may bring status or indifference – and not in any sense in relation to its real value. Our lives are disrupted far more severely when garbage collectors stop working than when ball players do.  Work may bring great monetary rewards or bare </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/115110330622139243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=115110330622139243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115110330622139243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/115110330622139243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/05/will-work-for-campusfood-dot-com.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-114620844260118068</id><published>2006-04-24T23:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T03:58:47.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>the red carpet.  Justin's movie premiered tonight. No, not that Justin...   Karen's Justin -  the "captivating" and oft shirtless Justin Lo! Justin (aka the cutie with the "soft as a cotton ball" hair) premiered his movie, The Conrad Boys at the Newport Beach Film Festival - befitting as how his film studios is Newport Productions.Unfortunately I wasn't able to attend, due to pesky barriers such </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/114620844260118068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=114620844260118068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114620844260118068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114620844260118068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/04/red-carpet.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-114620358775494487</id><published>2006-04-10T01:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T04:03:04.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>In many species with long childhoods, female choice bred males to evolve increasing emotional investment in their offspring...Chimp males offer meat for sex in a kind of courtly prostitution.  Homo sapiens males offer diamong rings and drive phallic cars to advertise their ability to provice and Homo sapiens females in modern foraging societies unashamedly demand meat from their lovers.  Despite </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/114620358775494487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=114620358775494487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114620358775494487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114620358775494487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/04/in-many-species-with-long-childhoods.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113886680956206629</id><published>2006-04-03T02:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T03:24:48.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>jam session. As a girl, you attend a lot of slumber parties growing up.  Your best friend's, your classmate's, your own... even the one of the girl who you secretly don't like and hope will have to do something embarassing during Truth or Dare...The appeal of slumber parties for a prepubescent teenybopper goes beyond the rescindment of curfew, the giggling over teen heartthrobs, the freezing of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113886680956206629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113886680956206629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113886680956206629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113886680956206629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/04/jam-session.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113877854135618379</id><published>2006-03-07T02:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T03:25:23.956-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Zhongwen ke.  I recently went to a Mandarin class at school for fun.  It's such an aphrodisiac to see a cute guy who wants to learn to speak Chinese.  Finally, someone you can bring home to your parents!  And then he opens his mouth and you quickly remember what an ugly language Chinese can be and not even Brad Pitt's face can save a guy from that turn-off.Tonal languages are not pretty.  It </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113877854135618379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113877854135618379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113877854135618379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113877854135618379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/03/zhongwen-ke.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-114480712304218925</id><published>2006-02-11T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T02:53:33.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"And come to think of it your eyes are different.  Hers weren't as dark as yours.  Your hair's darker, too, of course.  Actually you don't really look like her at all.""Wow," I said, having long ago perfect the art of saying things in a tone that could be interpreted as genuine.----------Now, after all of this, Mr. Jolly wanted to talk.  I considered telling my mother about him, having a laugh, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/114480712304218925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=114480712304218925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114480712304218925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114480712304218925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/02/and-come-to-think-of-it-your-eyes-are.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-114064965962659849</id><published>2006-01-30T17:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T17:37:06.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>XXV.  Today I am a quarter century old.  And what Memorexed celebration do I have in store for this most auspicious day?  Absolutely nothing.Not since the days where I yearned for Cool Crimp Skipper (I had been archaically home crimping Teen Time Skipper's hair for years with a hot iron and disasterous burning plastic results) had I really felt compelled to celebrate my birthday. My fashion muse </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/114064965962659849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=114064965962659849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114064965962659849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/114064965962659849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/xxv.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113820480551248852</id><published>2006-01-27T10:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T01:54:46.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Getting Off on FeminismAdmittedly, much of my frustration relates to my own experience.  I've always found fierce, independent women attractive - women who say they want a man to support them emotionally, listen to them, and not fight them every step of the way.  Yet in reality, these women often lost respect for me and for other men who tried to change our sexuality to meet these needs.I'd try </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113820480551248852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113820480551248852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113820480551248852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113820480551248852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/getting-off-on-feminism-admittedly.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113830020863749943</id><published>2006-01-25T13:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T16:52:59.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>and how many subscriptions do you own? There's nothing like being told by a 22 year-old sometimes drama queen that you have emotional baggage on the crest of your quarter-centennial to give you a much-needed reality check.  At the risk of receiving a barage of "you suck" email, it really would be beneficial to get periodic feedback on flaws and wrongs.  A report card or something.  Even better </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113830020863749943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113830020863749943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113830020863749943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113830020863749943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/and-how-many-subscriptions-do-you-own.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113830002415820196</id><published>2006-01-22T09:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T02:06:32.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Contradictory victory.   I love group word games.  Catchphrase.  Taboo.  Squabble.  Cranium.  They're fun and at the same time, very telling of the players. You find out who the natural leaders (and cheerleaders) are.  You see who cracks under pressure and who excels.  You test relationships with competition.  You find out who was a Mathlete and who was the drama kid.  It's really a personality/</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113830002415820196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113830002415820196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113830002415820196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113830002415820196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/contradictory-victory.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113828502268700642</id><published>2006-01-17T17:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T02:14:15.206-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Legano, ni legano...is gray area. At Gene's wedding this past weekend, there was a little Q&amp;A session with the newlyweds and one of the questions was to the tune of: Did you two start dating each other or were you "hanging out"?Today there exist many potential synonyms, or would it be euphemisms, for dating: seeing, hanging out, hooking up and my personal favorite "talking to."  For the most part</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113828502268700642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113828502268700642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113828502268700642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113828502268700642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/legano-ni-legano.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113709770815396012</id><published>2006-01-13T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T16:06:09.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What's the number for 911?Q: How many emergency vehicles does it take to investigate a missing Jeep?A: However many the city has on tap.I dont like who I am when I'm "home." Mostly I'm lazy and spend the day in my pajamas waching TiVo or staring at the computer willing the words to magically appear.  I've been back nearly 4 weeks now and I fear I've hit a low - I've resorted to my mom's favorite </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113709770815396012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113709770815396012' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113709770815396012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113709770815396012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/whats-number-for-911-q-how-many.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113718932511137039</id><published>2006-01-12T02:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T10:59:24.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I am dreaming for a purpose.     ~ Innocent, Night Commutersome idea of what hell might feel like. Tonight's episode of Lost revealed that the calm and moral Mr. Eko has a dark past as the leader of a militia group in Nigeria.  Taken from his village as a child and forced to be a soldier, Mr. Eko's crimes spanned the gamut from threatening church clergy to smuggling drugs.In 2003, a trio of young</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113718932511137039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113718932511137039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113718932511137039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113718932511137039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-am-dreaming-for-purpose.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113816837041629630</id><published>2006-01-11T01:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T02:34:43.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>sh*t or get off the pot. Heather Graham's new sitcom Emily's Reasons Why Not premiered tonight to a smattering of chuckles and a whole bunch of groans.  My relationship with Heather Graham has always been tumultuous - leaning towards hate in roles such as Rollergirl, Felicity Shagwell, Heath Ledger's girlfriend... then rocketing to love in her guest role as a loopy shrink on Scrubs.  But after </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113816837041629630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113816837041629630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113816837041629630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113816837041629630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/sht-or-get-off-pot.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113683815069423501</id><published>2006-01-09T15:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T03:52:30.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Nursery Tales. I've read The Nanny Diaries, thumbed through Admissions, chuckled at sitcom jokes about the competition for preschools in New York, but I never thought it was true. Surely it was all exaggerated for dramatic/comedic purposes... People can't be that ridiculous... right?Then I saw this job posting:  I am signing my child up for nursery school at the Children's Aid Society on Sullivan</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113683815069423501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113683815069423501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113683815069423501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113683815069423501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/nursery-tales.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113717833808174764</id><published>2006-01-05T01:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T17:05:24.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>And then?  No, no 'and then'!  I'm always surprised when I ask people what they think of certain isues or theories and they reply, "I dunno, I never thought about it" or I ask them why they think a certain way and they say "I dunno, I just do." It seems as though people are always so interested in folk psychology, figuring out the ways people behave, predicting how they'll act.  This is the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113717833808174764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113717833808174764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113717833808174764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113717833808174764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/and-then-no-no-and-then-im-always.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113718856530394332</id><published>2006-01-02T16:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T16:55:09.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A GPS for all time.  In Movies and the Meaning of Life (I divine my ideological lessons from pop culture media), Jerry L. Walls writes a chapter called "Flying Without a Map: Chasing Amy and the Quest for Satisfying Relationships" in which he argues for moral absolutism, that God exists and the only voice in our heads we should listen to is that of His. While I obviously don't adopt any of those </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113718856530394332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113718856530394332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113718856530394332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113718856530394332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2006/01/gps-for-all-time.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113674244697842135</id><published>2005-12-31T23:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T16:53:09.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm ideologically promiscuous.         ~Louis, "Munich"Morality is like the English language - for every rule there is most certainly an exception to that rule.People draw and redraw their right/wrong lines all the time.  They come up with all kinds of excuses or justifications for their beliefs, attitudes and actions. To kill another person is wrong, unless they're in a Middle Eastern country </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113674244697842135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113674244697842135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113674244697842135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113674244697842135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/12/im-ideologically-promiscuous.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113450122453954219</id><published>2005-12-13T13:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-13T14:13:44.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ply Wars: Why is 2-ply paper softer than 1-ply?When I moved out, my old roommate expressed concern over her new roommate working out.  "What if doesn't use 2-ply toilet paper and gets the cheap stuff from Costco??" she fretted.I am a 2-ply girl.  There's just something about using 1-ply that rubs me the wrong way (pun intended).  Especially in the home; if I wanted to be uncomfortable in the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113450122453954219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113450122453954219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113450122453954219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113450122453954219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/12/ply-wars-why-is-2-ply-paper-softer.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113410941067006054</id><published>2005-12-09T01:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T01:23:30.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Walden dreams, part II. I was at the public library recently using the computer library catalog.  After 2 minutes on it, this other customer barks at me, "Are you going to be on that much longer?  You know there's a 10 minute limit."  There were two open computers next to me!  I finished my search, closed the window, and got off the computer.Vulture woman immediately snatched up the computer and </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113410941067006054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113410941067006054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113410941067006054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113410941067006054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/12/walden-dreams-part-ii.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113410854874543932</id><published>2005-12-08T00:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-09T01:09:08.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Walden dreams. People bug me some time.  Everyone is so trigger happy to point a blaming finger. I was at the post office and a guy happened to be the upteenth person  to put his package in the self-service drop mailbox and the drawer jammed. Too bad you couldn't use those odds to win the lotto.  Well, chaos insued as the people behind him became irate and were prompt to throw a "you belong on </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113410854874543932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113410854874543932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113410854874543932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113410854874543932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/12/walden-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113371926366239879</id><published>2005-12-04T12:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T13:45:50.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There must be some Toros in the atmosphere. My first New York snow!  It snowed about 2 inches this morning.  The Christmas trees on the street are actually frosted with real powder, not the spray from a can stuff you need in California. I wonder how long before the novelty wears off..It's getting colder out, which means layers of winter coats, mittens, scarves, and double socks.  It made me think</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113371926366239879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113371926366239879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113371926366239879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113371926366239879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/12/there-must-be-some-toros-in-atmosphere.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113371972985238018</id><published>2005-11-25T18:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T13:49:24.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Happy Tofurkey Day  I spent my first Thanksgiving away from home this year.  I went to my uncle's house, which was almost like being home.  Almost.  My little nephew is adorable. "It's a bunklebee (bumblebee)!"I've also decided I want to stay in NY for Thanksgiving next year.  Not only to see the Macy's floats (how touristy, I know - I don't even watch it normally), but because I've decided my </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113371972985238018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113371972985238018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113371972985238018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113371972985238018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/11/happy-tofurkey-day-i-spent-my-first.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112945905560952415</id><published>2005-11-14T06:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T13:07:05.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Batty Koda:  Are you sure?Zak: Positive!Batty: Only fools are positive!Zak: Are you sure?Batty: I'm positive!          ~ Fern Gully, the Last Rainforest98 and 3/4 percent guarantee.  The scariest person you can ever meet is the one with a complete lack of self-awareness.  This person, oblivious to social cues and hypocritical/contradictory remarks, will think when you subtly say, "I'm worried </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112945905560952415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112945905560952415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112945905560952415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112945905560952415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/11/batty-koda-are-you-sure-zak-positive.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-113099381741887321</id><published>2005-10-31T23:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-02T23:56:57.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PBS is launching a 6 part mini-series on global health problems called Rx for Survival: A Global Health Challenge.So if anyone wants to know what I learn about when I sit in class, this is it.  With increasing globalization and the ability for diseases to travel so easily, everyone should be thinking about these things...Or at least watch it because Brad Pitt narrates.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/113099381741887321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=113099381741887321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113099381741887321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/113099381741887321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/10/pbs-is-launching-6-part-mini-series-on.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112926255485122166</id><published>2005-10-13T23:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T07:08:32.140-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I was flushing a public toilet when my foot slipped off the handle and I nearly fell into the toilet bowl.   My umbrella looks like a mangled metallic spider and I spent 3 hours sitting in a seminar with wet jeans.  Then there's the subways (the non-flooded ones that is).  Think about all the "ick" factors associated with the underground... and imagine it worse.  New York mud has a strange smell </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112926255485122166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112926255485122166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112926255485122166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112926255485122166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/10/i-was-flushing-public-toilet-when-my.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112380550011961622</id><published>2005-10-08T20:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-10T15:44:19.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Well, actually I already decided to sleep with you when I got off the train.                ~ Celine, Before SunriseMalcolm Gladwell, in his book, Blink, discusses the idea that important, and non-important, decisions are made instantaneously all the time, within the blink of an eye.  Now I've not read the book, but I can think of plenty of personal anecdotes that serve to validate this </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112380550011961622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112380550011961622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112380550011961622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112380550011961622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/10/well-actually-i-already-decided-to.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112841451879618471</id><published>2005-10-04T03:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-07T22:05:04.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Ecological Model: A Case Study Many theories of behavior exist.  One popular theory in particular, the ecological model, takes into account that "behavior does not occur within a vacuum" and suggests that "behaviors are influenced by intrapersonal, social, cultural, and physical environment variables."I've been living in New York more than a month now, and already I can see the effects of the</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112841451879618471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112841451879618471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112841451879618471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112841451879618471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/10/ecological-model-case-study-many.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112840358904487786</id><published>2005-09-26T01:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-04T03:04:18.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in a game of Frogger for which there is no final level...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112840358904487786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112840358904487786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112840358904487786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112840358904487786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/09/sometimes-i-feel-like-im-trapped-in.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112691051685584034</id><published>2005-09-16T18:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-16T18:41:56.860-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've discovered the source of the foul smells of NYC... it's the money-starved grad students trying to save change for $3 pints by scrimping on laundry duties.Welcome to the Big Apple.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112691051685584034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112691051685584034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112691051685584034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112691051685584034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/09/ive-discovered-source-of-foul-smells.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112430329906869394</id><published>2005-08-17T14:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T00:10:06.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>shhhhh... i've got a secret.I knew when I saw two missed calls from Karen that something was very, very wrong.The calls came at 9:43 and 9:54pm on Tuesday during the nomination ceremony episode of Big Brother.  The first call was no doubt an ominous "I think something bad is going to happen" hysteria-induced commercial break call.  The second, a confirmation that what we most dreaded had been </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112430329906869394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112430329906869394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112430329906869394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112430329906869394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/shhhhh.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112430651537193400</id><published>2005-08-15T14:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-17T21:30:59.973-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Book of Joe, Jonathan Tropper.After college, Carly came to New York to study journalism, at which point we embarked on one of those long, messy postgraduate friendships where you have just enough sex to thoroughly confuse the hell out of each other and ultimately, through a sequence of poor timing and third-party complications, fuck the life out of what was once the purest thing you'd ever </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112430651537193400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112430651537193400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112430651537193400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112430651537193400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/book-of-joe-jonathan-tropper.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112353651077366870</id><published>2005-08-11T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T11:28:09.140-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle"Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before.  He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way."         ~ The Books of Bokonon-----------And I remembered The Fourteenth Book of Bokonon which I read in its entirety the night before.  The </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112353651077366870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112353651077366870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112353651077366870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112353651077366870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/kurt-vonnegut-cats-cradle-beware-of.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112386035983125008</id><published>2005-08-10T10:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T11:26:14.776-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Leaving on a jet plane. Celine: Its just... its depressing, no? That the... the only thing we're gonna think of is when we're gonna have to say goodbye tomorrow.Jesse: Well, we could say goodbye now. Then we wouldn't have to worry about it in the morning.Celine: Now?Jesse: Yeah. Say goodbye.Celine: Bye.Jesse: Goodbye.Celine: Au revoir.Jesse: Later.Celine: Later, yeah.         ~ Before SunriseFor </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112386035983125008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112386035983125008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112386035983125008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112386035983125008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/leaving-on-jet-plane.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112378196434990140</id><published>2005-08-10T01:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T20:04:38.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Now I know my A-B-C's...  Too bad it's your 1-2-3's that will help you in the Big Brother 6 House...I love watching Big Brother.  It's quickly become a summer pasttime, even though I still can't quite get the schedule down right (Tues 9, Thurs 8, Sat 8 -- why don't they always make it at 8 o'clock?!).  Sure there are more interesting reality shows out there, shows that really test a person's </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112378196434990140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112378196434990140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112378196434990140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112378196434990140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/now-i-know-my-b-cs.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112354047899558199</id><published>2005-08-08T18:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T03:48:20.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>But now, not so muchPauly Shore has a new show on TBS this summer called "Minding the Store."   Pauly Shore, you scoff.  And a week ago I would have agreed with you.  Though I did just watch the end of "Son-In-Law" in the hotel room in Hawaii (I had to make sure that was Kelly Kapowski... really) and I think I actually saw "Jury Duty" in the movie theaters when it came out when I was in eighth </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112354047899558199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112354047899558199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112354047899558199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112354047899558199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/but-now-not-so-much-pauly-shore-has.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112335665443568011</id><published>2005-08-06T00:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T18:15:18.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>emmanuel lewisSalesgirl (at a clothing store at the mall):  Oh so are you back-to-school shopping?Me: You could say that.Salesgirl: What grade are you going to be in?Me: ...Cashier:  Oh my god, you look so young for your age.Me: Yeah, I know.Cashier: I mean, like, I am so much younger than you, but like... I totally look older than you.Me: ...Two thoughts crossed my mind at this point:(1) I know </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112335665443568011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112335665443568011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112335665443568011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112335665443568011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/emmanuel-lewis-salesgirl-at-clothing.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112323850774136566</id><published>2005-08-04T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T06:41:47.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ida Know.  When I was in high school, there was this guy who said (I heard this story secondhand so I'm paraphrasing): Every day I go home and find ways to put off my homework.  I watch tv, I eat, I basically do everything but my homework.  It's this big looming cloud of dread, the idea of doing homework... And then it gets to be 10 or 11 o'clock at night and I have to do it.  So I finally start </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112323850774136566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112323850774136566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112323850774136566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112323850774136566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/08/ida-know.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111951786820155329</id><published>2005-07-20T05:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T05:47:56.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Kodak moment. Karen's dad can always tell when someone else has taken a picture.  Not just because all parties are included... but because photographs other people take are notoriously bad.Inevitably every time you hand your camera over into a stranger's hands you are guaranteeing one of the following to be frozen in time forever: Agape mouth in the midst of saying "just push the big button"A </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111951786820155329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111951786820155329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111951786820155329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111951786820155329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/07/kodak-moment.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112093812697831099</id><published>2005-07-09T14:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-05T04:46:28.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Overheard at the bookstore:Girl: I'm looking for a psychology book.Employee: What's the name?Girl: I don't know... it's a psychology test.Employee:  Do you know the name of the test?Girl: It's the test you take to get your Master's degree.Employee: What's the name?Girl: Oh! It's the G-W-E.  It stands for... for... oh I don't remember what it stands for.  Where's the psychology section?  Maybe </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112093812697831099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112093812697831099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112093812697831099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112093812697831099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/07/overheard-at-bookstore-girl-im-looking.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112028323659559538</id><published>2005-07-02T00:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T13:16:13.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>diatribe to Tom, part 1It's a shame that Tom Cruise doesn't believe in psychiatry, he sure would benefit from a healthy dose of it.For a moment, let's put aside his erratic behavior as of late. Forget about jumping on Oprah's couch.... and jumping on Letterman's couch... and jumping, well, pretty much in every interview.  Forget about the awkward "Michael Jackson/Lisa Marie Presley" stage kisses.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112028323659559538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112028323659559538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112028323659559538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112028323659559538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/07/diatribe-to-tom-part-1-its-shame-that.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112048956672494037</id><published>2005-07-02T00:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T13:20:44.946-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>diatribe, part 2Cruise: There is no such thing as a chemical imbalance....But what happens, the antidepressant, all it does is mask the problem.  There's ways, [with] vitamins and through exercise and various things...  I'm not saying that that isn't real.  That's not what I'm saying.  That's an alteration of what I'm saying.  I'm saying that drugs aren't the answer, these drugs are very </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112048956672494037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112048956672494037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112048956672494037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112048956672494037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/07/diatribe-part-2-cruise-there-is-no.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112048918713479053</id><published>2005-07-02T00:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T13:37:55.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>diatribe, part 3Cruise: You just communicate about it.  And the important thing is, like you and I talk about it, whether it's okay, if I want to know something, I go and find out.  Because I don't talk about things that I don't understand.  I'll say, you know what?  I'm not so sure about that.  I'll go find more information about it so I can come to an opinion based on the information that I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112048918713479053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112048918713479053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112048918713479053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112048918713479053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/07/diatribe-part-3-cruise-you-just.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112027863446915486</id><published>2005-06-27T02:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T08:58:02.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>"If you've seen a spoon, you know how to spoon."       ~ Jessica Stein This is why I love Best Week Ever.  Celebrity gossip before Us Weekly arrives, plus a recap of all the great tv moments from the week.   Highlights from Ashton Kutcher's "social experiment" reality show, Beauty and the Geek, this week:Richard, the quintessential geek, receiving a spooning lesson from sorority sister </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112027863446915486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112027863446915486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112027863446915486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112027863446915486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/06/if-youve-seen-spoon-you-know-how-to.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-112048175531998266</id><published>2005-06-23T08:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T08:56:41.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quotes from American Psycho:Jean: What's that? Patrick Bateman: Duct tape. I need it for... taping something. Patrick Bateman: Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that, I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where, uh, Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/112048175531998266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=112048175531998266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112048175531998266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/112048175531998266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/06/quotes-from-american-psycho-jean-whats.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111951785114412656</id><published>2005-06-19T05:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T18:41:08.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Top Ten Memorable Moments in Europe.  The bird's eye view of London from atop the London eye and every "Amazing Race" landmark following it.Walking around the corner of your anyday buildings to find the Pantheon and Altare della Patria (Altar of the Fatherland, aka the "Wedding Cake").Our Austrian tour guide starting each day with "Good morning" and rousing us by tapping the mic and trilling or </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111951785114412656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111951785114412656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111951785114412656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111951785114412656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/06/top-ten-memorable-moments-in-europe.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111904599161474680</id><published>2005-06-17T01:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T23:25:48.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Mmm. Reprocessed pig fat.The county fair is back - bringing summer concerts, petting zoo animals, rickety rides, and roasted, bbq-ed, fried and chocolate-dipped foods with all their fat-filled goodness.To the novice fair-goer, all the stands and booths may be overwhelming.  Actually, even to the seasoned fair-goer, the variety of food is worth at least one full day trip or two evening trips (my </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111904599161474680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111904599161474680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111904599161474680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111904599161474680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/06/mmm.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111904725392901953</id><published>2005-06-12T23:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T18:55:42.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>But Cousin Larry...Why is it that all the calls during the NBA Finals seem to fall in Manu Ginobili's favor? Are the NBA officials "Perfect Strangers" fans who can't see past Ginobili's striking resemblence to the loveable Balki Bartokomous from Meepos? </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111904725392901953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111904725392901953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111904725392901953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111904725392901953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/06/but-cousin-larry.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111904607860209396</id><published>2005-06-10T18:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-17T18:07:58.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know you're getting old when the answers to EW's 1996 pop culture quiz come a little bit too easy to you...</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111904607860209396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111904607860209396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111904607860209396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111904607860209396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/06/you-know-youre-getting-old-when.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111881914735641700</id><published>2005-05-29T02:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-15T03:06:32.090-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This is our island. It’s a good island. Until the grown-ups come to fetch us we’ll have fun.      ~ Ralph, Lord of the FliesIf you put people on a bus like a bunch of third graders, they will act like a bunch of third graders.   Shoot me if I ever becoming the scrunchy-wearing, Talbots-shopping woman encouraging the abandonment of a 13 year-old boy and shouting to the driver "10 points!" for the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111881914735641700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111881914735641700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111881914735641700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111881914735641700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/05/this-is-our-island.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111166732474338229</id><published>2005-05-10T02:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T04:27:00.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I had a stereo that was very decent, a wardrobe that was getting respectable -- I was almost complete.      ~ Narrator (Edward Norton), Fight Club Sneaker pimps.  A while back, after looking at my checkbook balance, or what was left of it anyway, I made this decision: I would no longer purchase anything that didn't improve the quality of my life.  This meant abstaining from Target's $1 spot, </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111166732474338229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111166732474338229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111166732474338229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111166732474338229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-had-stereo-that-was-very-decent.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111514392142031437</id><published>2005-05-03T06:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-03T14:12:01.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Here's the truth: People, even regular people, are never just any one person with one set of attributes. It's not that simple. We're all at the mercy of the limbic system, clouds of electricity drifting through the brain. Every man is broken into twenty-four-hour fractions, and then again within those twenty-four hours. It's a daily pantomime, one man yielding control to the next: a backstage </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111514392142031437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111514392142031437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111514392142031437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111514392142031437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/05/heres-truth-people-even-regular-people.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111398713339729250</id><published>2005-04-18T04:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T20:36:59.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know how sometimes when you're channel surfing on tv,  you find a good program but instead of stopping, your morbid curiosity makes you keep flipping.  But then you don't find anything you like better so you go back to the first show but it's on commercial break, or it just ended, or you can't even find it anymore.Yeah, I hate when that happens.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111398713339729250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111398713339729250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111398713339729250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111398713339729250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/04/you-know-how-sometimes-when-youre.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111346518359437869</id><published>2005-04-12T03:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-04-14T05:19:05.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>To have and to hold.  This weekend was my roommate's wedding.  Yay.  A long-awaited day in many ways and truly a privilege to share in part of this couple's love story. Seeing as how this was my first "friend" wedding (versus family-friend or co-worker), I thought I'd write a laundry list of lessons... so I can promptly forget them by the time the next wedding (estimated 2007) rolls around.What I</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111346518359437869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111346518359437869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111346518359437869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111346518359437869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/04/to-have-and-to-hold.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111277616657087623</id><published>2005-04-01T22:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T04:29:26.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Troy: See Lainy, this is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks.Lelaina: You got it!~ Reality Bites</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111277616657087623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111277616657087623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111277616657087623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111277616657087623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/04/troy-see-lainy-this-is-all-we-need.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111007587532892392</id><published>2005-03-29T21:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-30T06:16:43.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The past is a foreign country.  So as much as I love the red and white bulls eye symbol of Target, I was not always a Target girl.   Before there was Target, after there was Gemco, there was FEDCO... and it was great.Fedco was your neighborhood superstore.  And by super, what I really mean is SUPER.  Not only did it have your movies, clothes, toilet paper, toothpaste and over the counter </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111007587532892392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111007587532892392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111007587532892392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111007587532892392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/past-is-foreign-country.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111171656300239276</id><published>2005-03-25T19:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T20:25:48.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me (researcher): I'm trying to get an idea of how your program works so that we can pull data from your sessions and run statistical analyses on them. I see that the first thing on the agenda for every session is labeled "Checking In" - what do you mean by that?Her (clinician): "Hey, how are ya?"Yet another example of the gap between Access-happy data managers and... well, everyone else.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111171656300239276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111171656300239276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111171656300239276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111171656300239276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/me-researcher-im-trying-to-get-idea-of.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111164918680499057</id><published>2005-03-24T02:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-24T02:27:47.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know it's bad when you hear, "Man, I don't envy you," "I wouldn't want your job," or some other variant of "Hey, sucks to be you" at least three times a day.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111164918680499057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111164918680499057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111164918680499057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111164918680499057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/you-know-its-bad-when-you-hear-man-i.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111154081684738641</id><published>2005-03-22T20:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-24T02:26:58.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you woke up tomorrow and your world was perfect, your life was perfect, and you were the happiest you could possibly be... what would be different?</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111154081684738641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111154081684738641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111154081684738641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111154081684738641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/if-you-woke-up-tomorrow-and-your-world.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111149243175745357</id><published>2005-03-21T23:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T13:16:27.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Raise your hand if you're sure. I got another acceptance in the mail today.  Well actually it was not for me but my male obverse.  That's right, the letter was addressed to one Mr. Christina.  I'm tempted to send back the "do you accept" card with a big "NO! Because you think I have external reproductive parts!"  But (1) I'd never do anything that rude and (2) I'm probably responsible for the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111149243175745357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111149243175745357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111149243175745357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111149243175745357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/raise-your-hand-if-youre-sure.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110180334573787090</id><published>2005-03-19T04:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T21:50:09.886-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The age of invention.  Sliced bread.  Lipgloss that doesn't stick.  Convertible mittens.  Sports cap bottle tops.  These are good inventions.And the antithesis of a good invention?  loses points for being two letters away from mitch albom Mitch Altman's TV-B-GONE.As if the FCC crackdown following Nipplegate wasn't bad enough, now this guy effectively lets every man (or person obnoxious enough to </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110180334573787090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110180334573787090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110180334573787090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110180334573787090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/age-of-invention.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111084912598378974</id><published>2005-03-16T19:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-16T22:35:52.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Star Search.  There is a huge difference between growing up in LA and growing up in LA County. However since a lot of people have never heard of the rinky dink city I grew up in, I would usually just say "LA" when asked where I'm from.  My suitemate in college would distinguish between her Compton-esque LA upbringing and my suburbian LA by saying she was from "LA-LA" whereas I'd say "border of </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111084912598378974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111084912598378974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111084912598378974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111084912598378974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/star-search.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-111084774908077227</id><published>2005-03-14T01:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-16T21:08:50.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I get so weak in the knees...  I was sitting in the car talking to someone about my impending geographic relocation.  She was talking about how exciting it was that I would be making such a huge change and moving time zones and for the first time, I felt nervous and clammy and slightly nauseated.  All these questions of self-doubt went through my mind... S***, did I really want to do this?  Move </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/111084774908077227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=111084774908077227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111084774908077227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/111084774908077227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/i-get-so-weak-in-knees.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110975124154536466</id><published>2005-03-02T03:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-22T21:51:03.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>gambling makes funRound 3 question: What is a surefire way to liven up a dull party?Jessica Shaw: My mother buzzed in first and...speak up, Mom!...say something...I'm begging you...ANYTHING! But she blanked.Dan Snierson: My mom swooped in and said alcohol. Wait a second — is my mom cool? And we were on a roll. . .until Jennifer uttered the word strip. I was so bummed — or was it embarrassed? — </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110975124154536466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110975124154536466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110975124154536466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110975124154536466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/03/gambling-makes-fun-round-3-question.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110940383285837927</id><published>2005-02-26T02:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T16:08:09.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm not only the Hair Club president, I'm also a member.  It must be incredibly hard to be a salesperson.  Today I met a pharmaceutical rep.  Apparently there's no specific degree needed to be a rep, just training and a sociable personality.  Oh and you need to be able to sell your product, and sell it well.While his whole spiel was pretty convincing in and of itself, when he mentioned that he  </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110940383285837927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110940383285837927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110940383285837927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110940383285837927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/im-not-only-hair-club-president-im.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110923795430380940</id><published>2005-02-24T04:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-05T04:56:21.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Just not that into you. Every season I pick one reality show (okay more like 4 or 5) that I follow religiously.  I become "priorly engaged" during the show's time slot.  I talk about the people as though they are in my intimate circle of friends.  I yell at the tv, I scream, I shout, I cheer, and I rant and I rave.Recently I have been in love with Bravo's Project Runway.  Girls may have heard </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110923795430380940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110923795430380940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110923795430380940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110923795430380940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/just-not-that-into-you.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110885770599355148</id><published>2005-02-21T11:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-02T05:25:08.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hair-raiser. At the risk of sounding like a Long Hair Lovers blog, I have to talk about my hair-related epiphany.I seldom go to the salon to get my hair cut for a multitude of reasons (see also hair nest entry).  I'm cheap, lazy and seldom like the end result (always thinking it could be shorter, more layered, lighter, etc).  Sidebar: My roommate works at Pottery Barn and when she has customers </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110885770599355148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110885770599355148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110885770599355148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110885770599355148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/hair-raiser.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110885768258699099</id><published>2005-02-18T19:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-21T15:22:09.200-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Retract those claws.Evelyn: Well, I wonder where Marge could be?  She's missing her own initiation.Susan: I hope she didn't take my attempt to destroy her too seriously [slurps her drink loudly].&amp;nbsp&amp;nbsp&amp;nbsp&amp;nbsp - The Simpsons, "Class Struggles in Springfield" Have you ever suspected that someone doesn't like you?  It's never something blatant that triggers the thought (e.g. someone slashing </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110885768258699099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110885768258699099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110885768258699099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110885768258699099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/retract-those-claws.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110885766490115987</id><published>2005-02-18T02:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-20T20:14:58.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Beautifully Human.  I went to the Jill Scott concert tonight.  Based on what I'd heard from Jill Scott's albums, I really liked her.  However, the two songs I knew, "A Long Walk" and "Cross My Mind," were just a small portion of her enormous talent and her 2.5 hour long concert.The concert was at the Copley Symphony Hall.  That's right, the Symphony Hall.  What Urban/Alternative R&amp;B has to do </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110885766490115987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110885766490115987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110885766490115987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110885766490115987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/beautifully-human.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110829566105582730</id><published>2005-02-13T05:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-16T08:02:57.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Author's Note: Usually I renounce Valentine's Day and all it stands for, but when it's all encompassing, it's especially hard to ignore (just like Christmas!) and not succumb to the culture and tradition, even if it is personally meaningless (just like Christmas!).   For example, this weekend the non-traditionalist anachronic watched the Will Smith romantic comedy Hitch and my self-proclaimed </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110829566105582730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110829566105582730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110829566105582730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110829566105582730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/authors-note-usually-i-renounce.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110777579686008942</id><published>2005-02-11T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-11T14:46:54.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Allow me to introduce you to my pukey face.And it starts.  In the mail I received my catalog for RedEnvelope appropriately titled “Gifts for Valentine’s Day 2005.”  35 pages of lovey-dovey couples, sinful gifts (gourmet body paint, “get-lucky dice,” and kama sutra kits), and many, many pretty shiny things.  If anyone says mail-order catalogs were not created as convenient porn, that person </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110777579686008942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110777579686008942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110777579686008942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110777579686008942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/allow-me-to-introduce-you-to-my-pukey.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110802718319058502</id><published>2005-02-09T23:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-10T04:19:43.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One night stand.  Most women think it's completely unacceptable to wake up to an empty bed "the morning after," for a man to get up and go home before the woman wakes.  After falling asleep at my old roommate's new pad, I can see the man's point of view from a logical stance.You wake up and regardless of how well the night went, you are thinking about:1. Sleeping in your own bed.  Who doesn't</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110802718319058502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110802718319058502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110802718319058502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110802718319058502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/one-night-stand.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110777659628239639</id><published>2005-02-07T06:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-12T12:10:55.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Just say no and other taglines. Let me introduce you to the wonderful world of social power and persuasion.  Common techniques include:Foot-in-the-door: Making an initial small request that no one would refuse in order to pave the way for a larger request.  Door-in-the-face: Making an initial exaggerated demand then a smaller more reasonable demand in order to elicit reciprocal concession  (“I </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110777659628239639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110777659628239639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110777659628239639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110777659628239639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/just-say-no-and-other-taglines.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375563.post-110767733586579316</id><published>2005-02-06T02:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-06T05:47:32.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Anything you can do I can do better.  I can do anything better than you. No you can't. Yes I can. No you can't!Last week on MTV's Battle of the Sexes 2, the guys took home the $180,000 prize.  First season of Battle of the Sexes found the men taking home cash and a new car.  Can you predict a trend by two points of the puzzle?  Will the victor of a physical task always be the one with a Y </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/feeds/110767733586579316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6375563&amp;postID=110767733586579316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110767733586579316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6375563/posts/default/110767733586579316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchbanshee.blogspot.com/2005/02/anything-you-can-do-i-can-do-better.html' title=''/><author><name>lindsey weir</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
