<?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-7328523122150261133</id><updated>2012-01-25T05:14:38.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indescribable Life Form</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-5356543752755020752</id><published>2011-12-23T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T06:07:41.225-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jessica's Super Zombie Apocalypse Survival Guide</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_RgAEKHdZk/TvUit8MZtvI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/WuLaon0248E/s1600/incaseofzombies_thumbnail.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 178px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_RgAEKHdZk/TvUit8MZtvI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/WuLaon0248E/s320/incaseofzombies_thumbnail.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689491876900091634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am not too sure it is gonna happen, but I like to be prepared. I like to plan ahead and have a list. For this event, I think it is a good idea to have a list because you know there will be tons of idiots out there who will think, " pshhh, I got this in the bag. Come and get me, zombies!! You want a piece of this!? I said, you you want a piece of- aaahhhhhh!!!!!" Yea. And the worst part is, you probably know one of those people. Well, unless you want to see them eaten, you should give this article a look.&lt;br /&gt;# 1- Safe location:&lt;br /&gt;- At first, people will be running around everywhere as well as zombies. So, for at least the first month or two, you should find a good place to hide. Some places you probably don't want to go are malls, hospitals (dude, really), airports, stadiums, and other crowded places. The reason for this is (A. it is easier for the infection to spread this way (B. food will be stretched (C. at some point, you will all begin to hate one another (if you don't understand, think about when you go shopping on black Friday or any other time right before the holidays, Forget the fact that you are all in the same boat, nobody cares. You will hate each other.) Some good places to go are schools, churches, wal-mart, or Bass Pro Shop.&lt;br /&gt;# 2- Quick supplies:&lt;br /&gt;- By this I mean that when you fist start to notice that people are becoming zombies, you will need to get supplies on the way to your safe location. And I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;supplies. &lt;/span&gt;Not TV's, iPods, computers, or other useless expensive stuff like that. The most useful thing like that that you can get is a radio to catch up on other survivors. If you are being chased while on your way to the safe place, you will want to stop by a gun or weapon store first. Those will be useful at that very moment which will help you get the needed food and medicine. And for you goody goods out there, don't worry about the ticked off store owner, if he isn't already a zombie. Just get the stuff and go.&lt;br /&gt;# 3- Important People:&lt;br /&gt;- There will, if they are smart, will want to go with you to be safe. With this category, I am not trying to be rude, but at this point I doubt it matters. You will want to take your family with you. This is key. Keep your family close because once there are no people left in the world, you will miss people. But you will not only need your family. Bring a priest or bishop with you. If you know one personally, you are set! Good job! Also, bring any ARMY, NAVY, or MARINE people that you can find. These will be helpful for some obvious reasons. Here are some people you should really NOT bring with you: that one crazy workaholic (male or female) that won't listen to anyone, that power hungry/ trigger happy, those teenagers who whine, that scholar who thinks he knows exactly what he is doing, or that guy who just cant seem to accept that his friend or family member is now a zombie (he most likely will, by an amazing stroke of misfortune, see that friend or family member right outside of your safe place and get turned into a zombie then come and attach you with a bunch of other zombies) Trust me. I am a professional.&lt;br /&gt;# 4- Things NOT to do:&lt;br /&gt;- This is very, very, very, very important. The slightest nincompoop move will kill you or partially kill you. I am just gonna give it to ya strait. Do not: turn into a zombie, split up ( this NEVER works! Remember, only the hero survives in this situation), get into too big of a group (too  much people will slow you down when you are running), hug a friend with missing limbs or organs, shoot anyone without confirming they are a zombie first, play the song &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thriller. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# 5- Other places to get tips:&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the 17 indisputable laws of teamwork &lt;/span&gt;by &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Johan C. Maxwell&lt;br /&gt;- the movie &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zombieland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-5356543752755020752?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/5356543752755020752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=5356543752755020752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5356543752755020752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5356543752755020752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/12/jessicas-super-zombie-apocalypse.html' title='Jessica&apos;s Super Zombie Apocalypse Survival Guide'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_RgAEKHdZk/TvUit8MZtvI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/WuLaon0248E/s72-c/incaseofzombies_thumbnail.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-8413413432170086507</id><published>2011-10-17T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T16:31:46.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Occupying the Highway to Hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rjWHG5GSnF8/Tpy63PWP7TI/AAAAAAAAAIM/5WHmWNTDKwk/s1600/2011043007103865f3936442ebdef87ecd4ce4b8e550f9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rjWHG5GSnF8/Tpy63PWP7TI/AAAAAAAAAIM/5WHmWNTDKwk/s320/2011043007103865f3936442ebdef87ecd4ce4b8e550f9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664607889500663090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;ey, I am going to tell you a little story about a boy named Charlie. Charlies family was very poor and had a hard time putting food on the table. One day, word went out that golden tickets were being hidden around the world inside Willie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wonka&lt;/span&gt; chocolate bars. The tickets would allow the finder to spend a whole day in the fantastic chocolate factory. As time went on, the tickets were found all over the world until there was only one left. One day, after school, Charlie decided to buy a chocolate bar. He was elated to find a golden ticket inside the wrapping! He was just about to run home and show his family when, suddenly, a group of angry people came parading down the street. The crowd was screaming at Charlie that it was unfair that he got that ticket and that he should give it to them because they didn't have it.&lt;br /&gt;"But," said Charlie, quite confused, "It's mine. I bought it."&lt;br /&gt;"But we have as much right to it as you do!" said the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hmmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;. Sound  familiar to anyone? Anyone at all? Lets put into context. Instead of Charlie, it's "the rich." And the golden ticket is the hard earned money. And the angry crowd is... well... pretty much the same. This is pretty much what is going on right now with Occupy Wall Street. Only, I find it quite ironic/ hypocritical that their leader is the main guy who is taking our hard earned money and flushing it down the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;According to these people, "the rich" are just lucky and are people who didn't earn their money. When &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually &lt;/span&gt;these people worked hard to get to where they are at and are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still &lt;/span&gt;working hard while the Occupy Wall Street dorks are taking a vacation to "express their anger."&lt;br /&gt;As far as these people can see, you have no right to your money because they don't have it. You should just give all your money to them. Why? Because they deserve it. Why do they deserve it? Good question. What America is built on, or at least was built on, is hard work. It is pretty sad that, in America today, people assume that they should get what you have just because they don't have it. It is  absolutely despicable and just plain sad. If this is what is to be the future of our nation, we had better get into our crash positions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-8413413432170086507?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/8413413432170086507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=8413413432170086507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8413413432170086507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8413413432170086507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/10/occupying-highway-to-hell.html' title='Occupying the Highway to Hell'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rjWHG5GSnF8/Tpy63PWP7TI/AAAAAAAAAIM/5WHmWNTDKwk/s72-c/2011043007103865f3936442ebdef87ecd4ce4b8e550f9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-6706103332319640532</id><published>2011-08-09T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T19:30:26.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Time Away From The Munchkins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhz3rg1t6xM/TkHtOqE3Q2I/AAAAAAAAAH0/hXw_k3XuT2o/s1600/P1050987.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhz3rg1t6xM/TkHtOqE3Q2I/AAAAAAAAAH0/hXw_k3XuT2o/s200/P1050987.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639049044513211234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;	&lt;/span&gt;One of the traditions I have grown up with is going to California every summer to visit my grandparents. Usually, only my little brothers, Joshua and Elijah, and I take the trip while our parents stay home. The boys and I always look forward to our little vacation. However, this year, I was unable to go with the boys on out trip. I was asked by my dad if my feelings would be hurt if the boys went to California without me. My first thought was, "No way! House to myself for 3 weeks! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Woot&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;woot&lt;/span&gt;!" I figured it was a win-win. And it was. I did enjoy my quiet time to read and the privilege of watching whatever I wanted without brothers harping on me to change the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;channel&lt;/span&gt;. But on the last few days before their return, I am finding myself watching many of the videos we have made and realizing just how much I missed my munchkins. Even though I know I will miss my alone time when they get back, I can't help but smile at the thought of hugging them when they get home. I do know that there will be times in the future when I will want to send them back to California in an instant. But now, I am feeling a sense of longing as a sister for the exploding/ gunshot noises that they make, the random pictures they draw, and the times that they ask me how to make toast. They will be home in a few days, and I will be glad to have them home. It will be good to have my brothers back. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-6706103332319640532?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/6706103332319640532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=6706103332319640532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/6706103332319640532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/6706103332319640532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/08/time-away-from-munchkins.html' title='The Time Away From The Munchkins'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhz3rg1t6xM/TkHtOqE3Q2I/AAAAAAAAAH0/hXw_k3XuT2o/s72-c/P1050987.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-8181614443641048195</id><published>2011-07-20T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T20:43:01.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Few Things I Have Learned About Movie Making</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-elc0WMsELBc/TiegL-9foMI/AAAAAAAAAHs/smsTlvsJLAo/s1600/Pirates-of-the-caribbean.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-elc0WMsELBc/TiegL-9foMI/AAAAAAAAAHs/smsTlvsJLAo/s200/Pirates-of-the-caribbean.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631645986790023362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PAb64RA6Y_0/TiegFu4D3QI/AAAAAAAAAHk/8XrxtJDwiWg/s1600/the_dark_knight_poster1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PAb64RA6Y_0/TiegFu4D3QI/AAAAAAAAAHk/8XrxtJDwiWg/s200/the_dark_knight_poster1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631645879393049858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Lately, I have found out that I really enjoy making movies. Short ones for now, but I would like to make full length movies someday. Movie making is one of those things that you learn (well, it's the way I learn) by observation. You can watch movies done by great film makers, see how they did things, think about how you would have done them different, and various different things like that. I often worry that I bother my friends by getting into how the camera work was terrible  when they just asked what my favorite part was. By observing how some of my favorite movies were done, I can put the ideas I get from those and put them into my own short movies. Of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;corse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, I do not have the resources that paid directors do to make their movies. However, I have found ways to make the ideas work in my own creations. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But just like I learned what things I can put into the movies at the beginning, I learned some things I need to add to future movies that I left out of others. For example, I learned that dialogue is very important to stick to. For the few movies I have done with important dialogue, I have just improvised the lines. It is probably a better idea to write them out, but who has that time? Anyways, in one of our earlier movies, Sid vs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nurf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Ninja, an important part of the story is that the master is the brother of the evil &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Nurf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Ninja. I didn't realize I had forgotten to indicate that relationship until the movie was done. In the newer movies we have made, we have been more careful about the dialogue. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Another thing I have been more careful about is putting the main inspiration of the title into the movie. Even better yet, let the title come after the story. In another one of our movies, Friday the 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Jason Takes Art, we didn't really indicate the reason he was an artist instead of a, evil killer. Another thing to gather from this is not to let the title define the movie. That is, in fact, backwards. The story and the plot of the movie is supposed to shape the title. The title is supposed to be something that draws the audience to the story. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I still have a lot to learn before I can be a pro director. For the time being, I am gonna stick to my little camera and my brothers as my main cast of characters. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-8181614443641048195?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/8181614443641048195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=8181614443641048195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8181614443641048195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8181614443641048195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/07/few-things-i-have-learned-about-movie.html' title='The Few Things I Have Learned About Movie Making'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-elc0WMsELBc/TiegL-9foMI/AAAAAAAAAHs/smsTlvsJLAo/s72-c/Pirates-of-the-caribbean.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-253639066134943264</id><published>2011-07-15T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T14:46:20.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Job Of Being A Sister</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TChAC_DicPQ/TiC1HRkybsI/AAAAAAAAAHc/HuesZ4iowWg/s1600/boyzzzzzzzzzzz.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TChAC_DicPQ/TiC1HRkybsI/AAAAAAAAAHc/HuesZ4iowWg/s320/boyzzzzzzzzzzz.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629698670794534594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When I was younger, I had always wanted a little sister. Today, I am not too sure why I did. Maybe I was because  I wanted a girl to play with or a closer companion. Now, I realize that I wouldn't have been able to survive with a sister. This is true for a few reasons: 1) I get my own room no matter where we live 2) sharing the title "sister" just wouldn't work for me 3) I  could never ask for better siblings. As time went on, I discovered that I was meant to have little brothers. My brothers helped make me who I am. I have learned so much from them and I take joy in teaching them. I have found that I really enjoy being one of the teachers in their lives. As time goes on, I know that they will become great adults and I am happy to know that I watched them grow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-253639066134943264?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/253639066134943264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=253639066134943264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/253639066134943264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/253639066134943264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/07/job-of-being-sister.html' title='The Job Of Being A Sister'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TChAC_DicPQ/TiC1HRkybsI/AAAAAAAAAHc/HuesZ4iowWg/s72-c/boyzzzzzzzzzzz.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-5011367301285239095</id><published>2011-07-14T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T09:42:42.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Idea Of A Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba3HOts8bX4/TiBt6rgyFII/AAAAAAAAAHU/LFSB_F4kNLM/s1600/headonfire_fullpic.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba3HOts8bX4/TiBt6rgyFII/AAAAAAAAAHU/LFSB_F4kNLM/s320/headonfire_fullpic.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629620389093184642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we are younger, say 5 to 10 years old,  our birthday is a very special moment. We are counting down they days until the big day and we make a list of things we want. When we are a little older, lets say teen-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;agers&lt;/span&gt;, we are of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;corse&lt;/span&gt; exited about our birthday but we are also sort of neutral on the celebration. Unless of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;corse&lt;/span&gt; you are one of those people who had been planning their sweet 16 since they could write their ABC's. But for the most part, we are pretty calm about the subject. And then there is the time when you are, eh, several years older than 29. By that time, you either don't care about your birthday, forgot, or are hoping everyone else will forget. Well, atlas that is what I have scene. Of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;corse&lt;/span&gt;, this is very stereotypical. I am just asserting what interests me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So, why is this distinction of interests so fascinating? When you are little, you cant wait until you are one year older. When you are older, you are exited but you are pretty neutral on the idea. And when you are much older, often you would rather not celebrate. Is it because you are becoming another year older? Maybe. Is it because you are spending time with friends and family? Possibly. Is it because you are usually getting stuff you want? Sure. Birthdays are a great thing, and the celebration should be spent with friends and family. No matter what the age. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-5011367301285239095?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/5011367301285239095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=5011367301285239095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5011367301285239095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5011367301285239095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/07/idea-of-birthday.html' title='The Idea Of A Birthday'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ba3HOts8bX4/TiBt6rgyFII/AAAAAAAAAHU/LFSB_F4kNLM/s72-c/headonfire_fullpic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-487256574506735957</id><published>2011-07-01T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T08:53:21.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Masses Rise....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8v8KiTyiflM/Tg40vkLcJOI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Cpc9SB7gv3s/s1600/tasteofawesome.com_Have_you_.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8v8KiTyiflM/Tg40vkLcJOI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Cpc9SB7gv3s/s320/tasteofawesome.com_Have_you_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624490976402482402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have recently seen many examples of "protesting" in my life. Or, at least the people call it protesting. However, protesting may not be the appropriate word depending on the situation. The things I have seen can better be described as throwing a fit or rebellion. When students all over  Texas walked out of school because they were angry about their teachers being fired was just stupid. This was stupid for a few reasons: 1) there was nothing the teachers or school board could do about the problem 2) more than half of those students didn't care what they were doing, they found the opportunity to cause trouble and took it. The world is full of idiots, ignorance, and laziness. When there is an opportunity to cause problems that can be called as freedom of speech, those people will usually take it. Even though there are some people who actually care about the situation at hand, they should learn to show how they feel the right way! I know that banned together, we can accomplish anything. Well, get together with the right people who actually know what is going on and who care about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-487256574506735957?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/487256574506735957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=487256574506735957' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/487256574506735957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/487256574506735957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/07/when-masses-rise.html' title='When The Masses Rise....'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8v8KiTyiflM/Tg40vkLcJOI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Cpc9SB7gv3s/s72-c/tasteofawesome.com_Have_you_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-5123249223696929415</id><published>2011-06-10T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T13:20:39.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Nothing Works Out The Way It Should</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Everyone has been there. That time when what was supposed to be the best day ever turns into a bummer. And when that time comes, our first impulse is to sulk. That is just the way we are as humans. A grate majority of us are just naturally negative. I'm not saying that we are all like, "by winning the lottery we took money from someone who could have used it to buy a new car." What I mean is that we don't always look at the bright side of every situation out of sheer reflex. And in the most distressing times, the brighter side can make us want to shoot the person who pointed it out. One thing I have learned  is, not just to give the brighter side a glance, but to think that there will most often be good things in the end. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;For example, you are moving and you are not exited at all. People may be telling you, "Oh come on. You will make lots of new friends!" You're thinking, "zip it, buddy." I know that moving away from the thinks you have come to love is hard. But the thing is, you will come to love new things wherever you go. The brighter side may seem annoying on the dark side, but when you come out of the dark there will be new and good things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-5123249223696929415?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/5123249223696929415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=5123249223696929415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5123249223696929415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5123249223696929415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-nothing-works-out-wy-it-should.html' title='When Nothing Works Out The Way It Should'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-320642135626150828</id><published>2011-03-11T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T15:30:33.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OPERATION: TNTKI (Try Not To Kill Idiots)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, maybe i am exaggerating. Well, then again, i am pretty much saying how many people feel about idiots. Yes, idiot is a hurtful term, but the truth hurts!  We see them at school, at work, in government, and everywhere else. The world just has idiots! It is a simple but irritating fact of life.  In high school, these kinds of people are everywhere. A great majority of them are teenagers hyped up on...um...well, lets just say coffee, that think that adults can't tell them what to do. You know what, let's just put it in statistic form:&lt;div&gt;50%= think that teachers are not the boss of them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25%= just don't care&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15%= think they know everything and refuse to be told otherwise&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8%= couldn't care less what they do&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2%= are actual good but will soon have their revenge in the idiots of the world by taking over the world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, there you go. Idiots are everywhere. And most often times, there is nothing you can do about it. Just do what I do, blog about it. ;) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-320642135626150828?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/320642135626150828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=320642135626150828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/320642135626150828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/320642135626150828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2011/03/operation-tntki-try-not-to-kill-idiots.html' title='OPERATION: TNTKI (Try Not To Kill Idiots)'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-1549557720055621975</id><published>2010-04-16T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T17:34:03.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The TAKS.................it sucks!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VsrWi5id_oY/S8kB7ux27nI/AAAAAAAAAEM/dNfbW3a8gQc/s1600/Photo+on+2010-04-16+at+19.33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VsrWi5id_oY/S8kB7ux27nI/AAAAAAAAAEM/dNfbW3a8gQc/s320/Photo+on+2010-04-16+at+19.33.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460898148844498546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have all heard it, and we have all feared it. Well, I really want to burn it, but I am not gonna get into my therapy seccions at the moment. I am talking about the TAKS!!!!! AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! I HATE IT!!!!! IT IS THE DUMBEST IDEA IN THE HISTORY OF BAD IDEAS!!!! I am not trying to quote Jarasic Park. The reason the TAKS is so dumb is because...well...I highly doubt that I need to explain. Many of you other people out there can give me your reasons. The reasin I hate the TAKS so much is because I have never passed the math test on the first try. I have either failed or had to go to summer school. Let me tell you, going to summer school instead of hanging out in the library is not fun at all. I think that they should have seprate tests at the end of every 6 weeks and put them all togeather to make up the one test. AM I RIGHT!!?? I think that I am Mosis. I was sent by God tho deliver the children of America. I will go to the loser incharge of the whole dang organization and say "LET MY PEOPLE GO!!!!!" I think it is true, I found it in hyrogliphics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-1549557720055621975?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/1549557720055621975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=1549557720055621975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/1549557720055621975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/1549557720055621975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2010/04/taksit-sucks.html' title='The TAKS.................it sucks!!!!!'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VsrWi5id_oY/S8kB7ux27nI/AAAAAAAAAEM/dNfbW3a8gQc/s72-c/Photo+on+2010-04-16+at+19.33.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-1615908565139085998</id><published>2010-03-20T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T19:57:50.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Government...ugh.....</title><content type='html'>One of the many things I, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unfortunatley&lt;/span&gt;, know is that I live in a freakish time with a freakish economy. Our dad gum president is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;trying&lt;/span&gt; to run the people of America's lives. IT MAKES ME &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;SO&lt;/span&gt; MAD!!!!!! It really angers me that Obama is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; ignoring our constitution. I think that if the guys that wrote the constitution came to our time, they would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; say,"What happined? We left you a list of instructions!" I culdn't agree with the forefathers in my brain more!  Also, lots of people think that the government should pay fore our healthcare. Well...........NO!!!! This is not just a nice jesture people! This is not your friend paying for you coffee when you are short a fiew cents! NONONONONO!!!!!!!!! When someone controls how the doctors take care of you, they control, well, the rest! Ugh. Sometimes, I wish I was 3 again; when all I had to worry about was toy I was getting in my happy meal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-1615908565139085998?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/1615908565139085998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=1615908565139085998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/1615908565139085998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/1615908565139085998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2010/03/governmentugh.html' title='Government...ugh.....'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-1837969221931011664</id><published>2010-03-16T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T06:34:48.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>books: yea, I'm a freak</title><content type='html'>When it is raining outside and there is nothing to watch on TV, what do you do? Well, you go play outside in the rain but that is not what I am talking about. What I am talking about is books. They are AWESOME!!!!!!  There are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;few&lt;/span&gt; things I hate more than sitting around watching TV all day.  I would die if I had to work in a movie store, but put me in a library and I will love it!!!!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I am kidding about the movie store thing but I am not kidding about the library thing. Call me crazy but I love books!!!! A lot of kids my age hate reading. I on the other hand love it!! I blame my dad. I must say that I am more into fiction than I am non fiction. The story just gets me better. I guess that's why I want to be an author. When I grow up, and have kids, we will own a maximum of 2 video games (one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;console&lt;/span&gt;) and a minimum of 1,000 books. My poor children. :) Anyway, in conclusion, I FREAKING LOVE BOOKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-1837969221931011664?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/1837969221931011664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=1837969221931011664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/1837969221931011664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/1837969221931011664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2010/03/books-yea-im-freak.html' title='books: yea, I&apos;m a freak'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-8706245538257128840</id><published>2010-02-07T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T15:30:17.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where "Freak" is a complement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In sixth grade, I was sort of a loaner. I mean, I didn't sit in a corner, running away from everyone who said "hi". I had friends, I just wasn't as outgoing. When I reached seventh grade, I got into theater. I am not completely sure what it was, but something just clicked. I was still not as outgoing, but I was improving. I was freaky! Then came eighth grade; my last year of middle school. I was much more out there. I may have had a hard day at the beginning, but I always had theater at the end of the day. I had a lot more friends and I was , strangely, beginning to care less if I looked like an idiot in public. I know that is random but it is true! I knew that I would always take theater as long as I was in school. I was looking forward to going into high school with my friends. When I had to move,I was still gonna take theater.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;My freshmen year has been my best year ever! I have new friends and I am LOVING my new theater department. Every one in this theater department has to be a freak to some extent. And I LOVE it!!!!!!! I know that I will be getting involved in theater than anything else. It has really helped me to become more social and outgoing. It has also helped me discover that I love playwright. Everyone has their occupation, mine is Theater.  &lt;div&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-8706245538257128840?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/8706245538257128840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=8706245538257128840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8706245538257128840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8706245538257128840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2010/02/where-freak-is-complement.html' title='Where &quot;Freak&quot; is a complement'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-8570343096028239091</id><published>2010-01-24T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T15:10:06.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When the Otts "relocated"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, in the summer of 2009, my dad told us that we were all gonna move to Houston. So for about 3 weeks, we were all preparing for our move.I was constantly reminding myself not to panic. Just kidding. :) Anyway, we packed for about 3 weeks and did some much needed cleaning. Every one was sad when we had to give Madison, one of our dogs, away. We kept our other dog, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nyute&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Anyway, my room was slowly becoming a storage unit; the game room was empty (we had gotten rid of our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;phoose&lt;/span&gt; ball and air hockey table); and the garage was becoming hard to access. I had to tell my friends I was moving, that was hard. Eventually, the big day came. The boys and I ended up sleeping on the floor the night before, and boy were we T-I-A-R-D. You know what that spells; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz&lt;/span&gt;. Well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Nyute&lt;/span&gt; was an exited wreck and I was still half asleep. Dad got to drive the big truck, of&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;corse&lt;/span&gt;. I stayed with mom and the dog in the small car most of the time. When we got to the house, I found out that it was defiantly smaller than the old house, but it was a pretty good size. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After about a month, we had friends at church, I had friends at my new high school, and Dad had volunteered at the fire station. We learned pretty quickly the concept of 'adapt or die.' Of course I miss Dallas, but I have learned to like Houston. Despite the murderous humidity, I like it here. People all over Houston will soon know the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ott&lt;/span&gt; effect.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-8570343096028239091?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/8570343096028239091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=8570343096028239091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8570343096028239091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8570343096028239091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2010/01/when-otts-relocated.html' title='When the Otts &quot;relocated&quot;'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-5258805013311432701</id><published>2009-06-11T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T18:17:00.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Everything Daughter</title><content type='html'>Okay, this is the deal; my dad is pastor/ teacher/ biker/ theologist/ teacher (wait, did I already say that?) / Dad/ husband/ chaplain. Try saying all of that in one breath! Well anyway, he does all of this stuff and it is totally crazy! Oh, did I mention that he also taught sunday school? So I guess that makes me an everything  guy's daughter. But Dad says that when kids do very well in school or graduate, the Dad's get all the credit. I think he is kidding. Oh, and remember all of those things I listed at the top, my dad is currently looking for a job! That is so crazy! Wouldn't you agree? But that is not my biggest involvement with my dad's number of talents; he tells almost all of the stuff he learns, teaches, or knows about this stuff to me! Or he tells my mom and she tells me. And that's not all.&lt;div&gt;My family just started going to a new church. My parents told me that everything in that building is symbolic of something. Like the ceiling is supposed to look like the ark from Noah's Ark. At family worship, they told us tons of these symbols and what they mean. Don't get me wrong, it was interesting. But I had a headache the size of Mt. Everest! Later on, Dad had a headache too. I am certain that it was all of the knowledge that he had just recited. But in-spite of all the head issues, it is pretty cool being a pastor's/ teacher's/ you get the idea.       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-5258805013311432701?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/5258805013311432701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=5258805013311432701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5258805013311432701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/5258805013311432701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2009/06/everything-daughter.html' title='An Everything Daughter'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-6849190785940970345</id><published>2009-02-21T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T13:41:23.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>There are different ways you can tell that someone is your friend. One way is that they will care about your personal problems. Either it be divorced parents, or failing grades, they will care. Another way you can tell is that they will not leave you out. If they think they might be leaving you out, they will pull you in. One of the biggest ways you know someone is your friend is that they will stand up for you. Just recently, my best friend did that. I was sitting alone at a table, when my friend came and sat down with me. Well usually she has a different lunch and other people she sits with. But that day was a test day. I expected her to be with her other friends. When she came and sat down she seemed angry. I asked her what was wrong. She said some of the other girls were talking about me. Apparently, when she told them I was one of her good friends, the girl said,"I don't care." I was kind of shocked. Well I had never really liked that girl, but I was still surprised. I thanked her and we went on talking. That was not the first time I realized how grateful I was to have her as a friend. But It is times like that when you know the words, "your my best friend," really count.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-6849190785940970345?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/6849190785940970345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=6849190785940970345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/6849190785940970345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/6849190785940970345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2009/02/friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-434822673383611524</id><published>2009-02-13T05:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T07:31:04.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing I Want, And Nothing I Need</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;A lot of girls at school have boyfriends. They seem pretty happy with them. Well except for one little tiny thing. DRAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!  I mean seriously, join drama club if you want that! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Ok, so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;maybe not all  boys are dramatic, but why take a risk. If anyone besides my family reads this, I'm   not saying this because of a recent conflict with a boy. I'm saying this because I don't want conflict! I am doing perfectly fine without a boy in my life right now. I am living proof that you don't need a boyfriend to graduate middle school. Other girls out there, if you have a boyfriend, don't break up with him. I'm just saying, in the future, your life is way easer without a boy in it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-434822673383611524?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/434822673383611524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=434822673383611524' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/434822673383611524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/434822673383611524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2009/02/nothing-i-want-and-nothing-i-need.html' title='Nothing I Want, And Nothing I Need'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-221822453351914102</id><published>2009-02-12T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T14:53:57.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From PK to NCK</title><content type='html'>My dad is no longer serving as a paster. So, for the time being, I am just Aaron Ott's daughter. And I am perfectly fine with that. But maybe this summer, I might be able to say,"my dad is navy officer Chaplain Ott." Yes, It's true. Since Lieutenant Galvin, Dad's recruiter, has 100% accuracy things are looking pretty good. We are going to have to move were ever they tell us to. I am going to miss Chanah and aunt Faith and everyone else I met. We might have to give Madison to Grandma and Papa. We could bring Nyute. But in-spite of all the sacrifices, I think I will learn to like military life. Mom was reading this book. It said that the navy gives your family tickets to Disneyland and other places like that sometimes. We might even move over seas. How cool would that be! It would be nice to live in China or Hawaii or France. I think I either want to stay were we are or go some place far away. But as long as I am around, standing or walking, when someone asks me were I'm from I'll say, " I'm from Texas, the lone star state."   &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-221822453351914102?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/221822453351914102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=221822453351914102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/221822453351914102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/221822453351914102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2009/02/from-pk-to-nck.html' title='From PK to NCK'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-4089804803300075385</id><published>2008-01-09T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T15:03:46.515-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Game Room</title><content type='html'>It's big, it's bad, it's &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE GAME ROOM!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;   This is the place where us KIDS can have fun upstairs.  When I'm board and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; feel like doing my homework, I go there. This room includes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;                                                                                                . Air Hockey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;                                                                                                .&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Phoose&lt;/span&gt; Ball&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;                                                                                                . Darts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;We got most of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; things for Christmas.  Mom and Dad were up all night working on them.  It was pretty cleaver how they hid them on Christmas day.  Well I have to go and play air hockey now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-4089804803300075385?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/4089804803300075385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=4089804803300075385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/4089804803300075385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/4089804803300075385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2008/01/game-room.html' title='The Game Room'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-7656177906370848395</id><published>2007-12-25T06:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T06:31:43.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CELL PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Yes I got one, I got a cell phone!  I have been &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;waiting&lt;/span&gt; to get one fore a while. I got it for Christmas.  My parents are so cool!  Now I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;have to&lt;/span&gt; learn how to text. That should take a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-7656177906370848395?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/7656177906370848395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=7656177906370848395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/7656177906370848395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/7656177906370848395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/12/cell-phone.html' title='CELL PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-8497030905148897343</id><published>2007-10-27T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T13:53:11.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom, Dad, and puppies?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, it's true. My mom found two puppies in the side of the road. And when I woke up, Joshua told me to look at them . They were the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cutest&lt;/span&gt; things on the block. At first we thought one was a boy and one was a girl. But the we noticed that they were both boys. My mom &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tried&lt;/span&gt; to give them a bath, but they were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;too&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;wiggley&lt;/span&gt;. So we gave them a bath in the bath tub. We called them Juneau and Denali. My dad thought they needed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Alasken&lt;/span&gt; names. And by the way, it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mostly&lt;/span&gt; my dad's idea to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;keep&lt;/span&gt; them. It's pretty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;obvious&lt;/span&gt; to tell who is who. Not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; because Juneau has a blue &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;collier&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Dinale&lt;/span&gt; has a red &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;collier&lt;/span&gt;, Because they have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;personalities&lt;/span&gt;. Juneau is way moor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;submissive&lt;/span&gt; and calm. Wale &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Dinale&lt;/span&gt; is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;moore&lt;/span&gt; aggressive and rough. And one time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Dinale&lt;/span&gt; was whining. He was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;sopped&lt;/span&gt; to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;asleep&lt;/span&gt;. Then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Nyute&lt;/span&gt; leaned over the bed and gave him a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;talking&lt;/span&gt; to. Not a bark, but a talk. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Nyute&lt;/span&gt; and Madison have been parenting the pups. And I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;keep&lt;/span&gt; telling my dad"four dogs."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-8497030905148897343?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/8497030905148897343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=8497030905148897343' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8497030905148897343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/8497030905148897343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/10/mom-dad-and-puppies.html' title='Mom, Dad, and puppies?'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-3745671761676147136</id><published>2007-10-12T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T15:39:50.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Music********</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/HANNAH"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its bigger than movies, its louder than jets, and annoying at times. Its MUSIC!!!!!!!!  I love music.  I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;evin&lt;/span&gt; hoping that I can get $20 to buy a cheep MP3 player from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Walgreen's&lt;/span&gt;.  My all time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;favorite&lt;/span&gt; singer is Hannah Montana. She is a great singer. And she is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;encouraging&lt;/span&gt;.  A bunch of her songs have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;helped&lt;/span&gt; me. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Especially&lt;/span&gt; "Make some noise".  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Allot&lt;/span&gt; of kids pick on me at school, and that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;encouraged&lt;/span&gt; me. I love music!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-3745671761676147136?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/3745671761676147136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=3745671761676147136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/3745671761676147136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/3745671761676147136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-music.html' title='My Music********'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-657881323268029351</id><published>2007-09-28T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T15:32:22.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Standing up</title><content type='html'>Today I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;helped&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt; of mine , and it felt good.  What &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt; was these three girls were sitting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;in front&lt;/span&gt; of us on the bus . And  they k&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ept&lt;/span&gt; turning around an yelling at us because they thought that my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt; was kicking there seat.  But I  told them that she was doing nothing of the sort. A &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;after&lt;/span&gt; my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt; had left, they were still yelling at me.  She said"you can tell your daddy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; you want, but I know that she was kicking her seat!"  "But she was not doing it on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;porpoise&lt;/span&gt;, and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; care &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; you say, but I know that she was not kicking her seat. Now I am going to sit an enjoy the ride home."  Later, I went and sat with my other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt;.  And a girl about in 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade said that she respected me for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; I did. You might not always like standing up for yourself, but it pays of in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-657881323268029351?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/657881323268029351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=657881323268029351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/657881323268029351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/657881323268029351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/09/standing-up.html' title='Standing up'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-7001989110914991326</id><published>2007-09-27T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T14:43:07.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dificult, funny Dad</title><content type='html'>To all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;girls in&lt;/span&gt; the world,  we all know that dads are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt;.  But my dad is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;extraordinary&lt;/span&gt;!  I mean, how many &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pasters&lt;/span&gt; do you know of that have a moter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cycle&lt;/span&gt; licence?!  Yup, it's true!  My dad is going to get a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;moter&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cycle&lt;/span&gt;.  I cant w&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;aite&lt;/span&gt; to ride on it to youth group. Well I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;might&lt;/span&gt; be to scared at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;first&lt;/span&gt;. But I bet it will be fun later on.  My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;friends&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; it.  Well that is my dad, who I think is pretty cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-7001989110914991326?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/7001989110914991326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=7001989110914991326' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/7001989110914991326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/7001989110914991326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/09/dificult-funny-dad.html' title='Dificult, funny Dad'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-7789575357318026312</id><published>2007-09-20T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T14:39:43.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kid pleasurs</title><content type='html'>Video games,  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt;,  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Candy&lt;/span&gt;, soda,  it's just kid heaven.  Well, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;personally&lt;/span&gt; have a problem with soda.  But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; get to that.  Kids have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pleasures&lt;/span&gt;.  Well, so do grownups I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;guss&lt;/span&gt;.  But kids, you can do &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; to please them.  Some kid &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;pleasures&lt;/span&gt; could be candy, some could be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;TV&lt;/span&gt;, it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; mater.  We just like to be us.  My problem with soda is k&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;inda&lt;/span&gt; bad. When ever I have a chance, I have to get a sip.  Am I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;thirsty&lt;/span&gt;?  My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;pleasure&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-7789575357318026312?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/7789575357318026312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=7789575357318026312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/7789575357318026312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/7789575357318026312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/09/kid-pleasurs.html' title='Kid pleasurs'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-4186397915608810151</id><published>2007-09-13T14:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T14:47:28.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The DOGS!!</title><content type='html'>Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;theres&lt;/span&gt; a little of people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;personalities&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; dog.  But my dogs are out of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ordinary&lt;/span&gt;.  I mean, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Madison&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;is the&lt;/span&gt; most talkative dog I  have ever seen.  And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Nyute&lt;/span&gt; is bigger than the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt; morning news.  Madison is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;medium&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;sized&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;chocolate&lt;/span&gt; lab/blood hound.  And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;nyute&lt;/span&gt; is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;huge&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;yellow lab&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;husky&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;germanshepard&lt;/span&gt;.  Hey, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;wear&lt;/span&gt; big dog people!  And it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;SO&lt;/span&gt; funny when we first got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;nyute&lt;/span&gt;.  My dad said,"this dog will never be allowed in this nice couch!"  Now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;theres&lt;/span&gt; dog hair all over the couch.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Theres&lt;/span&gt; no doubt that dogs are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;riley&lt;/span&gt; kids best &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-4186397915608810151?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/4186397915608810151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=4186397915608810151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/4186397915608810151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/4186397915608810151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/09/dogs.html' title='The DOGS!!'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-2252733884591593886</id><published>2007-09-05T15:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T16:02:12.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>San Antoneo!!</title><content type='html'>Well , you never know, it might happen.  My mom &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; I have been imagining this vacation for a long time.  Our dream is to rent a car, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;possibly&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;porsh&lt;/span&gt;, find a great bed and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;breakfast&lt;/span&gt;, and hang out in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;San&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Antonio&lt;/span&gt;.  this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;auto&lt;/span&gt; to be interesting.  We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt; love six flags, so we are gonna go there.  And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; sea world, oh and a day spa. Well there &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;SO&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;much&lt;/span&gt; to see.  So mom's, if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;you're&lt;/span&gt; looking for some quality time with your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;daughter&lt;/span&gt;, San &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Antonio&lt;/span&gt; is the place to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-2252733884591593886?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/2252733884591593886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=2252733884591593886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/2252733884591593886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/2252733884591593886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/09/san-antoneo.html' title='San Antoneo!!'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-2378547169030469310</id><published>2007-08-26T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-26T14:50:48.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a PK!!!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;preachers&lt;/span&gt; kid.  Today the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;official&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;decision&lt;/span&gt; was made.  We all went out to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mexican&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;restrant&lt;/span&gt;.  It wasn't very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;appetizing&lt;/span&gt;.  But I got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;snacks&lt;/span&gt; at home.  My dad said that sometimes "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;PK's&lt;/span&gt;" can act pretty dis respectful.  But he told us we dint need to act &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Any&lt;/span&gt; moor than we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; do.  Adults say that we are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; good kids.  Just a couple of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;hours&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; already having fun being a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;pasters&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;doughtier&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-2378547169030469310?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/2378547169030469310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=2378547169030469310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/2378547169030469310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/2378547169030469310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/08/im-pk.html' title='I&apos;m a PK!!!!!!!!'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-3642008516569608715</id><published>2007-08-25T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T13:12:05.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My stories</title><content type='html'>Lets face it, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;there's&lt;/span&gt; a storey teller in all of us. But as fore me, well lets just say I think of stories faster than I can finish the first one. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt; not that fast. But I can come up with some pretty great stories. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; problem is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I come&lt;/span&gt; up with so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Manny&lt;/span&gt; that I cant ever finish them. One of them was; Joshua Tree; It was about a girl who found a wild horse and became great &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Friends&lt;/span&gt; with it. He got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;taken&lt;/span&gt; away in the end &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;tho&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; as far as I got. Wee. But my number one golden storey is called; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Haileya&lt;/span&gt; the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Warrior&lt;/span&gt; Princess; It's about a princess who gets banished from her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;kingdom&lt;/span&gt; because she was framed. She went to an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;abandoned&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;castle&lt;/span&gt;, where she met here &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;companion&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Blizeron&lt;/span&gt;, the white tiger. He never left her side. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;while&lt;/span&gt; she was in the jungle for 7 years, her father was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;murdered&lt;/span&gt; and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;evil&lt;/span&gt; right hand man was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;terrorising&lt;/span&gt; the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;kingdom&lt;/span&gt;. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;evil&lt;/span&gt; king starts getting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;suspicious&lt;/span&gt;. So he sends out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;bounty&lt;/span&gt; hunters to kill &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Haileya&lt;/span&gt;. But the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;bounty&lt;/span&gt; hunters never come back. Soon &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Haileya&lt;/span&gt; comes back to tacke her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;rightful&lt;/span&gt; place on the throne. Things didint turn out so well at first, but in the end they live &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;happily&lt;/span&gt; ever after. And I promise ,one of these days i will write the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;hole&lt;/span&gt; storey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-3642008516569608715?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/3642008516569608715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=3642008516569608715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/3642008516569608715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/3642008516569608715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-stories.html' title='My stories'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7328523122150261133.post-4939867115472440261</id><published>2007-08-25T11:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T12:04:40.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is MEEE!!!</title><content type='html'>I am moving into the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;seventh&lt;/span&gt; grade, I have two little brothers, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;parents&lt;/span&gt; who could make &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;allot&lt;/span&gt; of money in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;comedy&lt;/span&gt; show, and some animals who arnt your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; day animals.  This is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;pretty&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;much&lt;/span&gt; me and my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;life&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm not one to brag, but I think my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;life&lt;/span&gt; ROCKS!  It can get petty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;sometimes&lt;/span&gt;, but its fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7328523122150261133-4939867115472440261?l=javott.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/feeds/4939867115472440261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7328523122150261133&amp;postID=4939867115472440261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/4939867115472440261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7328523122150261133/posts/default/4939867115472440261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://javott.blogspot.com/2007/08/this-is-meee.html' title='This is MEEE!!!'/><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15820452120093462515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='18' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOWLY5fjxpo/TrRJPlq2EsI/AAAAAAAAAI0/iHu3LEqGFmE/s220/DSC00563.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
