<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001</id><updated>2009-02-21T02:30:18.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Corporate Peon</title><subtitle type='html'>Just your average Joe-ette, looking for the meaning of life, looking for love, looking for signs of intelligent lifeforms...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>606</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114187272182583515</id><published>2006-03-08T20:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T20:52:01.836-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't care if you were a stripper or not - if you get double F sized implants, you have lost your right to complain that people treat you like an object and not a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those implants were 1900 ccs EACH. I believe they said it was a GALLON of fluid EACH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're not a person, you're a floatation device.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114187272182583515?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114187272182583515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114187272182583515&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114187272182583515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114187272182583515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-dont-care-if-you-were-stripper-or.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114153047143797507</id><published>2006-03-04T21:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T21:47:51.533-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Law of Averages</title><content type='html'>This week in recap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Pros&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got some cute new purses and jewelry - all on clearance!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had two jeans days at work - love those&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got promoted&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got a compliment on my car by a random guy in my apt parking lot&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Used my federal tax refund to put me 8 months ahead on my car payments - schweet!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finally managed to catch up with my gf in VA - had a good, long talk with her&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;u&gt;Cons&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Was too lazy to do the cleaning that my apt requires, so am currently living in a pigsty&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had my non-date and wasn't impressed&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Got all excited by new messages in my MySpace account only to find out that FREAKS want to be my friend&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Found out I make $20,000 below the official minimum of the salary band for my job and that nothing can be done about that. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Found out that my library sucks and only had, like, 2 of the books you folks recommended. Their reserve system only notifies you by phone that something is in and since I don't have an answering machine, I won't ever find out when my books are in. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Still and all, I'd call this week a good one. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114153047143797507?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114153047143797507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114153047143797507&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114153047143797507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114153047143797507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/03/law-of-averages.html' title='The Law of Averages'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114139894614064805</id><published>2006-03-03T09:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T10:05:02.600-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIFreakinF</title><content type='html'>Naturalizer boots: $28 on clearance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tank top: $3 on clearance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Velvet blazer: $10 on clearance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Necklace: $14 on clearance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haircut: $13&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking like the sexy, in-control beast you know you are: Fucking priceless&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114139894614064805?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114139894614064805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114139894614064805&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114139894614064805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114139894614064805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/03/tgifreakinf.html' title='TGIFreakinF'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114127156091885222</id><published>2006-03-01T21:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T21:52:40.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Make Me Laugh</title><content type='html'>Dear Mustang Driver:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get that your car is a Mustang. Really, I do. I can read those 7 letters across the back of your car; I can recognize the shape of that car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So did you really need a vanity plate that reads 'HR STANG 4'???? Because that made me think of pooty tang, and I'm guessing that's not what you were going for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KtP&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;Dear High School Cheerleader,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that tonight is Ash Wednesday. I know that means if you go to church, you get ash on your forehead. I'm cool with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you have to understand that religious ash does not mix so well with a cheerleading outfit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Fashion Police&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;Dear Writers of &lt;a href="http://tlc.discovery.com/fansites/psychic_witness/psychic_witness.html"&gt;Psychic Witness&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very amused to catch the tale end of tonight's episode. You know the one - where the psychic helped find the dead body and thus prosecute the suspect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's also the episode where you said the suspect 'will no longer hurt anyone outside of the prison system.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for not assuming he won't get into a little shank fight with his fellow inmates. Way to keep it real, yo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new fan,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KtP&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114127156091885222?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114127156091885222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114127156091885222&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114127156091885222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114127156091885222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/03/things-that-make-me-laugh.html' title='Things That Make Me Laugh'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114124892784597796</id><published>2006-03-01T15:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T15:35:27.860-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mystery on the Blog</title><content type='html'>Someone from my sister's town is reading me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I know it's a large town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do wonder if it's her, which obviously means I don't trust the declarations she gave me of never visting the CP again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it is her (she?), then she's not nearly as bright as I thought she was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flip side, though, is that maybe she'll finally fucking understand me a bit and learn how not to interpret my every mood as hateful and bitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I don't buy it, either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114124892784597796?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114124892784597796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114124892784597796&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114124892784597796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114124892784597796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/03/mystery-on-blog.html' title='Mystery on the Blog'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114122645584441864</id><published>2006-03-01T09:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T09:20:55.860-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Isn't It Ironic?</title><content type='html'>I've had milk in the fridge for the past, oh, week-and-a-half. No issues. Most of that time was spent with no cereal, but the milk stayed fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why is it that not even a full 48hours after I purchase 5 boxes of cereal, I wake up to find my milk frozen, thanks to a tempermental fridge?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114122645584441864?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114122645584441864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114122645584441864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114122645584441864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114122645584441864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/03/isnt-it-ironic.html' title='Isn&apos;t It Ironic?'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114116260998107184</id><published>2006-02-28T15:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T15:36:50.003-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh No You Di'nt</title><content type='html'>I just found out that an issue that's been open since July 11, 2005 is no longer an issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an issue I've been working on for MONTHS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been providing weekly updates to people on it for MONTHS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, I could have realized this in July, but what about the stupid people who've been getting my updates? They could have called me off at any freaking time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah. I hate my own stupidity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114116260998107184?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114116260998107184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114116260998107184&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114116260998107184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114116260998107184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/oh-no-you-dint.html' title='Oh No You Di&apos;nt'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114110087441565265</id><published>2006-02-28T09:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T09:46:09.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bits N' Bits N' Bits</title><content type='html'>I had a good workout last night. A mile + on the bike, and about 5 minutes on the elliptical, which I've decided I really don't like. Two reps of 12 on each of about 7 machines; some core strengthening exercises that KILL, and some core balancing exercises. A full hour in total.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I got some groceries tonight - there were a few things I had been craving, plus something for dinner - and I had a coupon for $5 off a $50 purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was my bill? $44.66. So close, and yet...Perhaps if I purchased 7 boxes of cereal instead of the FIVE I walked out with, I would have hit $50.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;A comment I made at &lt;a href="www.elkitabanana.blogspot.com"&gt;Sloth's house &lt;/a&gt;got me thinking. One girl from high school - same age as me - has four kids. Two with her hs bf, two with her hubby. A second girl from hs - also the same age - is pregnant now with her fourth. Again, two with the bf, two with the hubby. And a third girl just had her first baby in May - and is pregnant again. She will have two kids under the age of 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my mind, that's frightening. Not desired. Not even cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my friends who love and want kids, that's pretty normal and not such a bad thing. Now, I went to hs in the sticks, so is this just a product of that environment, or is that more a norm than I wish to know?&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;Last, for now: If you know today is a 'food day' at work - and if you come to work without bringing something - it's really not appropriate to leave the office at 9:33 to drive to a grocery store to pick something up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. Either let it go - because no one else will notice and no one at all will care - or go upstairs to the convenience store and buy a bag of chips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's really not appropriate to interrupt my obvious review of a document to ask me what you should buy.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114110087441565265?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114110087441565265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114110087441565265&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114110087441565265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114110087441565265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/bits-n-bits-n-bits.html' title='Bits N&apos; Bits N&apos; Bits'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114105798409222626</id><published>2006-02-27T10:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T10:33:04.106-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Kibbles N'</title><content type='html'>A coworker who literally has been at this company for longer than I've been alive just sent me one of the most ridiculous forwards ever. I know you've all seen it, and if you haven't, I won't be forwarding it to you. The ""approachable looking" man (clean cut, clean shaven, dressed well, etc.)" tells the woman she's dropped money even though she knows she hasn't, and when she refuses to take it, he gets irate and thus morphs into the serial killer who has been eluding the police. "Even if this man wasn't a serial killer, he looked nice, he seemed polite, he was apparently doing an act of kindness, but HE WAS NOT A NICE PERSON!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please. Someone, anyone, kill me now.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I got my hair cut Thursday and then threw some dye on it. The cut's fine, and the color is not very noticeable, which is good, considering I'm not sure I like it and I generally dye my hair once every decade. Good thing this only has 25 more shampoos to go...&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I had a promising phone call last night with a man from a personals site. We talked for quite a while, actually, (which means I missed &lt;a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/greysanatomy/"&gt;Grey's Anatomy&lt;/a&gt;!) and will be actually meeting this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I told you yet how much I hate dating? Yeah, I think I have. He's 6yrs older than I and divorced - two qualities I never would have sought out on my own - but he sent me a very flattering email and so of course I had to respond.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;There's also a guy on &lt;a href="www.myspace.com"&gt;MySpace&lt;/a&gt; who sent me a very flattering note. We've emailed a bit, but nothing's come of it yet. I suppose if anything does, I have Peeved Michelle to thank, since she prodded me into joining MS in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of PM, it's past time to announce that &lt;a href="http://thepeevery.com"&gt;The Peevery &lt;/a&gt;is ill. I had been hoping that this was a 24hr virus but it does not seem to be the case. For anyone interested, we're peeving at the old site, &lt;a href="http://botheration.blogspot.com"&gt;Peevishness &amp; Botheration&lt;/a&gt;, while we wait for TP to become unquarantined.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I need to hit the library this week; load me up with some recommendations, ya'll.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114105798409222626?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114105798409222626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114105798409222626&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114105798409222626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114105798409222626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/kibbles-n.html' title='Kibbles N&apos;'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114100747792870497</id><published>2006-02-26T20:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T20:31:17.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bits</title><content type='html'>Tonight is my first night watching any of 'Dancing With the Stars.' Mildly amusing but not quite worth the hype, as is true with so many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Drew? Whether you win or not, take my advice: No former boy-band member should &lt;em&gt;ever &lt;/em&gt;say, "It's all good in the hood."&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;Taxing weekend as usual with the fam. My sister still does not understand why I haven't forgiven her for searching out the CP; "she's acting like I slept with her boyfriend." Honey, don't flatter yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from that tension, there was the usual bickering:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S: I don't think Ellen Pompeo should be on the cover of &lt;em&gt;Self.&lt;/em&gt; She's a self-described waif.&lt;br /&gt;KtP: So naturally skinny women should be punished?&lt;br /&gt;S: Yes&lt;br /&gt;KtP: That's the fat girl's cry.&lt;br /&gt;S: Deep sigh, then a muttered "You're so much fun to talk to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned over the past year or so that unless I agree, I'm not much fun to talk to. If I don't excessively compliment, then I'm not much fun to talk to. So I've been staying rather quiet, which then gets me comments about how grumpy I am. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" When I say no, that doesn't mean I'm being a bitch. Perhaps it means I'm content to just listen and not offer a dissenting comment; perhaps it means I know nothing about the topic being discussed, and am therefore silent. Or perhaps it means I have no interest in the topic but don't feel the need to be included in every single conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, that's not true. It obviously means I'm being a grumpy bitch and expressing that vividly.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;Even with my parents, I've learned my opinion doesn't count. Not that it necessarily should, but don't ask me a question if my answer won't even be considered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you want for lunch, KtP?"&lt;br /&gt;KtP: Fried chicken&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"KtP, do you want to come to the furniture store with us?"&lt;br /&gt;KtP: No&lt;br /&gt;"Well, tough. You're coming anyway."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And they all wonder why I either say nothing or ask if my opinion matters.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;When the girls were here last weekend, I bought some &lt;a href="http://www.ikea.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/ProductDisplay?topcategoryId=15573&amp;catalogId=10103&amp;amp;storeId=12&amp;productId=16082&amp;amp;langId=-1&amp;parentCats=15573*16238*16076"&gt;long mirrors &lt;/a&gt;from IKEA that I thought would look nice above the couch. Now, though, I think they will look a bit too 70's and am debating returning them. Which of course still leaves me with nothing above the couch...which is amusing in that after I purchased the mirrors, we went to a billion stores where I saw about 2 billion things that would work in their place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More decoration shopping? I'm not sure I can handle that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114100747792870497?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114100747792870497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114100747792870497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114100747792870497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114100747792870497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/bits.html' title='Bits'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113989338025724202</id><published>2006-02-24T10:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T10:19:20.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want My MTV!</title><content type='html'>Back in my youth, living out in the boondocks as I did, I waited anxiously for the day when my family would finally - FINALLY! - get cable. Once we finally! got it, I wiled away many hours in front of MTV. MTV - &lt;em&gt;music &lt;/em&gt;television. From Janet's beach video to Chris Isaak's beach video, MTV used to play all the good (beach) videos. Sure, sometimes the videos sucked while the song rocked (I always liked that Michael Jackson song with Naomi Campbell in the video...but couldn't stand the video) and sometimes the videos rocked while the songs sucked (Anthony Kiedis in glittery lipstick, anyone?), but did it ever really matter? It was &lt;em&gt;MTV&lt;/em&gt;. MTV, man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then MTV made the shift between music videos and crappy tv shows. Sure, there was &lt;em&gt;'The Real World,' &lt;/em&gt;but they started out strong and then had a few crappy years in the middle before picking it up again, full-steam, only recently. Then there was &lt;em&gt;'Road Rules Challenge,' &lt;/em&gt;but that gave, like, one decent season before crapping out. I began to to lament the fact that MTV had moved away from music videos and thrown a bunch of crappy new shows at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why it's so strange that my new favorite show is on MTV. Forget '&lt;em&gt;Next,'&lt;/em&gt; though that still gives me hours of pleasure. Forget '&lt;em&gt;Date My Mom,' &lt;/em&gt;which amuses me more than it should. Forget '&lt;em&gt;MADE,' 'True Life,' 'Wild 'N Out,' 'Meet the Barkers,' &lt;/em&gt;or even '&lt;em&gt;Room Raiders.' &lt;/em&gt;Not because these shows don't provide hours of entertainment, for they do, in varying degrees (anyone see the 'DMM' episode where the gay man asked the mom if her son would allow a pearl necklace? She actually thought he was talking jewelry...). But all of these shows pale in comparison to the new motherload:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Parental Control' &lt;/em&gt;rocks. The parents get to publicly disown their child's boy/girlfriend. They get to interview prospective dates. And the child has to go out with two people - one chosen by the dad, one by the mom. After the dates, the kid has to come back and choose one - the current bf/gf, or one of the dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would be so freaking afraid to have my mother choose any date for me. Her pick would be ultra-Christian. Non-smoker, non-drinker, non-cusser, and would want kids. Bunches of kids. Bushels of kids. He would want his kids to have kids as long as they did it in the name of the lord. He would not be cute or hip in any sense of the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad's pick would be better; someone who likes to travel, who could talk news or computers or pop culture, such as dad knows it. Someone in the business world. Someone liberal. Definitely a geek, but then that's not necessarily a negative. Basically, someone like dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know if that thought scares me more than mom's prospects do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113989338025724202?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113989338025724202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113989338025724202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113989338025724202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113989338025724202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-want-my-mtv.html' title='I Want My MTV!'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114072656675495921</id><published>2006-02-23T14:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T14:29:26.770-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The word verification that Ticketmaster just gave me was 'haycock.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114072656675495921?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114072656675495921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114072656675495921&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114072656675495921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114072656675495921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/word-verification-that-ticketmaster.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114071260266442270</id><published>2006-02-23T10:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T10:36:42.686-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was surprised by how much I liked having someone to shop with, eat with, talk to. I was surprised by how much I liked having someone in my home. I was surprised by how much I missed that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was pleased by how little of the conversation centered around the past. Sure, the exes all got a mention and an update where warranted; in a sense, we all grew up with those boys. With one notable exception - me - all of the girls are happier with their current partners than with the exes, and that was nice to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed to see so much of me in each of them at various times, and yet, there are so many differences, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They met BBB, on their request, and I'm not sure how I (or he) felt about that. They know we're not dating, and I think they just wanted to meet someone I feel close to, regardless of whether it's a bf or not. They liked him; they felt he was polite, and funny, and were impressed by how social he was with girls he had just met. They also felt he was more touchy-feely and attentive to me than someone would be who wasn't interested, but as this isn't high school, there's no stock in what they said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While they each have things I covet - a home, a husband, a dog - there are things I don't want that they have, too. A stepdaughter, though she's great. A house that's in the boondocks. A husband who's a jerk. And I'm not naive enough to think that they don't want some of what I have, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of us would ever trade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114071260266442270?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114071260266442270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114071260266442270&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114071260266442270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114071260266442270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-was-surprised-by-how-much-i-liked.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114048990847150232</id><published>2006-02-20T20:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T20:45:08.483-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yawn</title><content type='html'>There's really not much in the world that beats staying up til 4am with two of your best girlfriends, talking, drinking, and eating pizza.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114048990847150232?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114048990847150232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114048990847150232&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114048990847150232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114048990847150232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/yawn.html' title='Yawn'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114021261343210266</id><published>2006-02-17T15:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T15:49:56.193-06:00</updated><title type='text'>F.R.I.D.A.Y</title><content type='html'>I came home yesterday and crashed. Slept on the loveseat - not the best choice - for a good three hours, then went directly to bed, did not have dinner, did not run errands, did not do more cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I woke up super early and did some cleaning prior to leaving for my massage. My gf had given me a gift card last year that I hadn't used; she chose a salon she personally knew and approved of, and while it's nice to have that endorsement, I wish it wasn't 45 minutes away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, had a WONDERFUL 90 minute massage. After that, drove back up here and had lunch at Big Bowl with BBB &amp;amp; R. This is R's first week back after dealing with his sister's emergency heart transplant out of state three weeks ago, so it was good to catch up with him. Even though I had spent a lot of time with BBB the past couple weeks with the Irish folks, we hadn't had much 'together' time, so it was good catching up with him, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came home after getting CHEAP gas ($2.19 a gallon, anyone?) and did some mad cleaning. Still have more to do, but figure I can vaccuum while I have laundry cooking, and a quick trip to the grocery store will happen sometime too. Everything - and that's EVERYTHING - should be done by 6pm. That's my goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which leaves me time to relax a bit before running to O'Hare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, since I'll be out and about this weekend, take a look &lt;a href="http://kevan.org/johari?name=Kate"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;and let me know what you think. I'll be back on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good weekend, everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114021261343210266?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114021261343210266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114021261343210266&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114021261343210266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114021261343210266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/friday.html' title='F.R.I.D.A.Y'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-114005946471637062</id><published>2006-02-15T21:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T21:11:04.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Fuckers</title><content type='html'>On 2/7 - last Tuesday - a company I submitted an application to emailed and asked me to schedule a phone interview with them during the week of 2/13 and 2/17 and between 8am and 5pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I can't access my home email from work, I responded on the evening of 2/7 with a time for this Friday, as I'll be off work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 2/8, the HR contact emailed and said based on my resume, they would like to move the interview up to earlier in the week. Again that evening, I responded by saying I would check my schedule and let them know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the evening of 2/10 - Friday - I emailed with a new proposed day and time, that being today. I heard no response from HR. I emailed the contact yesterday asking for confirmation - today, Friday, never. I even left work early today in case I didn't hear back in time and the interview was actually on for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got home from work, there was an email saying since I hadn't responded in time, they had already filed my application and moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote the woman, asking her (politely) where the fuck the delay had occurred. She kindly let me know that after letting her know I'd check my schedule, "I didn’t receive anything until 2/13, and by that time, we had filed your application." Since I sent the email on Friday night, she didn't get it until Monday morning. I get that. That makes it four days since she had heard from me, even though I responded in two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I ask you: Is two days unacceptable? If this is a candidate you're truly interested in - even if it's not - is 2 days an unreasonable amount of time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm royally pissed. Not because I necessarily wanted the job, though from all I've heard it's a good company and a good job, but because I feel I'm in the right and her expectations are unreasonable. I'm also pissed because had she confirmed my initial day and time, we could have avoided all of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-114005946471637062?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/114005946471637062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=114005946471637062&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114005946471637062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/114005946471637062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/stupid-fuckers.html' title='Stupid Fuckers'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113997365514688968</id><published>2006-02-14T21:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T21:20:55.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So Close</title><content type='html'>It's ironic that I turn to you for help purging, since you're part of the initial problem. But what else is left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your call earlier turned a decent enough day sour. How is it that with one small voice, with one hesitant dismissal, everything else becomes impacted? The errand, ruined; the night, dismal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your email brought to mind similar words spoken years ago by someone else. "I won't contact you anymore; when you're ready, you contact me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one thinks to ask what will happen if I'm never ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worry that I'm making the same mistake I made before, if indeed it can be classified as a mistake. Would it have made a positive difference if we salvaged the friendship? I felt you tried to guilt me into doing so, and that was adding insult to an already fatal injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say you've missed me, but...that's not enough. And I'm not sure I feel the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113997365514688968?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113997365514688968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113997365514688968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113997365514688968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113997365514688968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/so-close.html' title='So Close'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113980503480976191</id><published>2006-02-12T22:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T22:30:34.823-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day-to-day Shit</title><content type='html'>I made a lot of headway this weekend, getting my place in visitor-shape. I actually dusted the entire living room - and I won't even tell you how long it's been since I did that. I also culled books from my too-large-for-my-bookshelf collection and threw them into the donation section of my library. Then I threw a bunch of clothes at Goodwill; clothes that had been (for the most part) packed and taking up floor space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put my old computer monitor into my storage unit and my old CPU is sitting ready to be booted up and scoured for any personal files (or porn) before I donate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a pedicure and my brows done today. I also spent $60 at Target and got almost everything on my list and only one thing that wasn't on it. Since that item is a blanket my girls can use next week, it doesn't count as useless spending. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner with the Irish folks Thursday, some leftovers made their way into my car. Unfortunately, some of the leftovers got onto the leather and fabric of the passenger seat and the backseat, so that was carefully cleaned today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shopped for and purchased items to make Valentine's treats for work. Every Tuesday I have three 1/2-hr meetings in a row; they're all in the same room and some people need to be at all three. They gave me crap last week for not bringing them chocolate, so I will have treats this week. I'll probably make a few more cookies tomorrow night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took pictures of and posted a few items for sale on eBay. I still have my GameCube to sell; I'll get that set up tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cooked a healthy dinner and have already cleaned up after it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have to vaccuum the family room and pick up the blankets I use on the couch and this room is done. I have to clean the kitchen floor; clean the bathroom, and then put away clothes in the bedroom, and the whole place is done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all boring, but it feels good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113980503480976191?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113980503480976191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113980503480976191&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113980503480976191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113980503480976191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/day-to-day-shit.html' title='Day-to-day Shit'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113950696467716310</id><published>2006-02-09T11:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T11:42:59.260-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The New Math</title><content type='html'>Remember the contract position I mentioned below? The one that pays barely less than what I currently make?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The recruiter gave me the hourly wage - say, $50. I took 50 and multiplied it by 40 = 2000. Right? Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's $2000 per week. My current company pays us twice a month; so, 2000 times 2 = 4000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;$4000 a month. Minus a third for taxes, and you get approximately $2600 a month take-home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not worth it. Right? Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if I had taken into consideration that there are FOUR weeks in a month...then that's 2000 times 4, for $8000 month. Subtract taxes and you're taking home almost double what I currently make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT...that, might be worth pursuing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113950696467716310?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113950696467716310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113950696467716310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113950696467716310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113950696467716310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/new-math.html' title='The New Math'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113936762373882581</id><published>2006-02-07T20:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T21:13:34.926-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Mixed Bag</title><content type='html'>I haven't forgiven. And I won't forget. But I'm trying to get past that. I feel I'm taking a chance by blogging here again, but...it's a chance I have to take. I think I'm reasonably confident that no such breach will occur again - the Offender (and others) know the penalty.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I've spent a lot of time with BBB lately. He's still dead sexy, but the pull isn't there like it used to be. We've been spending a bit of time entertaining two Irish men from our subsidiary company who are in town for training. The guys are great - fun, likeable, nice guys, and our age, so it's been easy to have deeper (or not, depending on the mood) conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the time I've spent with all the boys, it's become evident that BBB and I have led extremely different lives: as a white woman, I feel cops are - as a general class - good. As a black man, he's not so certain. Growing up in a two-parent middle-class home, I know education, health care, privileges, etc as easily obtained. I'm not trying to say that's the norm, but it's what &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; know as the norm. Growing up in a single-parent low-income family, he doesn't know that as 'normal' experiences. Is he wrong? Am I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't shy away from these conversations, which is great - especially when comparing the UK to America - and I would never tell him his opinion is wrong, but it's sometimes awkward to realize that what I've experienced and believe to be true is not someone else's reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valuable, but still uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I received a phone call tonight from a recruiter who saw my resume. She has positions available in Ohio if I'd like to move. Uh, no. I did, however, just speak to a different recruiter who has contract and permanent positions available that we both think I'd be good at. The contract position is for barely less than I'm making now, but with almost as good a company. The permanent positions are for decently more than I currently make but are not with well-known companies. From what she said, the contract position is as good as mine if I want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have a phone interview next week with a different company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting frightened. I didn't think I'd actually have to make this decision. And while I don't have to &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt;, I may have to &lt;em&gt;soon&lt;/em&gt;, and I'm already stressing about it.&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;I'm having out-of-state visitors next weekend and I'm already stressing about that, too. Will we all fit in here? What will we do? Where I know how to get to places? Will they be too scrunched in my car? Will I have enough of the right food/drinks/towels/bedding? Will my place be clean enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been told that they don't or won't care. I've been told that they're coming to see me and don't care if we sit and eat and drink the entire time. I'm just not sure I fully believe that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113936762373882581?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113936762373882581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113936762373882581&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113936762373882581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113936762373882581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/its-mixed-bag.html' title='It&apos;s a Mixed Bag'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113885493849663848</id><published>2006-02-02T12:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T12:09:44.093-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Emails</title><content type='html'>1.&lt;br /&gt;O: Are you just busy or are you avoiding me? I feel really, really bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;KtP: I'm not avoiding you, I'm just not talking to you right now. Leave me alone, you do NOT want to provoke me further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;KtP: You SHOULD feel "really, really bad." You deliberately did something you knew I didn't want you to do; you kept it from me, and, as you've been doing lately, you tried to lie to me about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You effectively killed an outlet that I had. Blogging was a way for me to think things through, purge them, and then leave them. I don't feel I can do that now - thanks very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years Someone has said that when she asks you how I'm doing, you don't give anything away. Well, that's great. Even better now that you're not going to have anything to tell. I trusted you before, I just didn't want to share anything. Now I don't even trust you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you're having a crappy week. I may have to love you, but I don't like you at all right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;O: No dispute. I suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't think this has to kill your outlet. I have promised to you that I will not go back to the blog and I mean it. If you truly knew how badly I felt, you would know that I mean that promise and would never betray you again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, not that this is in anyway an excuse, but think about how desperate I must've been to learn more about what you were really feeling and thinking to even go looking for your blog. Know that I felt crummy even searching for it and think about how badly I must've wanted to connect with you or really know how you are that I would do that. Think about how worried I must've been about you and about all the things you keep hidden inside that I would've looked for this other information about you. And think about how bad it made me feel to realize that you could share all of these real personal things about how you are really doing with strangers on the internet and not with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you. And I'm sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;KtP: You're right. That isn't an excuse. Obviously I didn't feel I could or wanted to share things with you, for whatever reasons. Personally, I don't care if it made you feel bad or not. Had you not gone looking for trouble, you wouldn't have found it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113885493849663848?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113885493849663848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113885493849663848&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113885493849663848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113885493849663848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/emails.html' title='The Emails'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113885457798531944</id><published>2006-02-02T09:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T09:53:54.223-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Conversation</title><content type='html'>KtP: So, I have a question for you. Did you search out my blog?&lt;br /&gt;Offender: (Teeny pause) Did I?&lt;br /&gt;KtP: Yes&lt;br /&gt;O: (Teenier pause) No&lt;br /&gt;KtP: Are you lying to me?&lt;br /&gt;O: Yes. I know I shouldn't have&lt;br /&gt;KtP: You're right, you shouldn't have&lt;br /&gt;O: But I only did it for like the last week&lt;br /&gt;KtP: And that makes it okay?&lt;br /&gt;O: I promise I won't do it again, I didn't bookmark it or anything&lt;br /&gt;KtP: And that makes it okay? How can I believe you?&lt;br /&gt;O: Because I give you my word, I promise&lt;br /&gt;KtP: And how much is that really worth?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113885457798531944?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113885457798531944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113885457798531944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113885457798531944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113885457798531944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/02/conversation.html' title='The Conversation'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113867184783918007</id><published>2006-01-30T19:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T19:44:07.863-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust is Fleeting</title><content type='html'>One of the things my old flame Johnny used to say was that you always have choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's true in this situation, too. I just don't know which choice to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I trusted someone close to me to not search out my blog. For over a year - actually, almost 18 months - I managed to avoid giving out my URL to certain people. I trusted that they knew I didn't want them reading me and I trusted that they would honor that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out on Friday that that trust was misplaced, and I'm not sure how to handle any aspect of it - blogging continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to password-protect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to scrap this site and move on. Doing so doesn't guarantee anything; if I was found once, I can be found again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to censor myself; I've struggled enough with that in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that leaves me with...what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113867184783918007?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113867184783918007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113867184783918007&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113867184783918007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113867184783918007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/01/trust-is-fleeting.html' title='Trust is Fleeting'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113841122162884287</id><published>2006-01-27T19:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T19:20:21.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Matrixed</title><content type='html'>Remember that scene in the Matrix - I think the first one - where those octopus things ate or sawed their way through, almost into the hull of the ship? &lt;/p&gt; Yeah. This blog's security has been breached. &lt;/p&gt; Please pardon it while the woman behind the computer figures out how the hell to move forward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113841122162884287?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113841122162884287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113841122162884287&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113841122162884287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113841122162884287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/01/matrixed.html' title='Matrixed'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7383001.post-113833216140274051</id><published>2006-01-26T21:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T21:35:05.886-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversationally So, Part 3</title><content type='html'>Everyone who's chimed in to the first two parts of this unexpected series have given me something to consider. I may not agree, but at least I'm looking at the situation with my eyes wider open. Let me try to give a little background as to how the conversation of job hunting even came up, and then I'll tell you what I'm actually doing about it, and again invite your input.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned in part 1, an old schoolmate and I engaged in conversation about why one should leave a comfortable / good / exciting / well-paid / you-choose-the-description job for the unknown of something new. And while that conversation was triggered by the departure of a third classmate and colleague, there was another reason for the discussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For weeks, there had been rumors that my - our - company was going to ask for a voluntary reduction in staff. An enhanced retirement package would be offered in an attempt to cut costs and save the bottom line. At the time of the discussion, we knew only rumors, but that didn't stop the 'what-ifs' and the asking of 'would you take the payout?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now - present time - we know the details of the offer. And while I do enjoy my job, and I like the atmosphere, and I enjoy the vast majority of the people, and I am paid a liveable wage, and I do continuously find challenges and opportunities and feel I am embarking on a career rather than a job, well...I've also started thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As any regular reader here knows, I have no social life. I, perhaps unwisely, chose to live in the suburbs to be close to the job, rather than in the city close to the people. While it might seem the solution is rather obvious, it's not. I don't want to gain social opportunities by losing 2+ hours a day in a commute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now comes a time where I could leave the job and move to a city that would offer more social opportunities while perhaps also offering a similarly promising career path. I could make the transition with a few extra bucks in the bank; I could leave on good terms; I could end up in a city with a lower cost of living and more affordable homes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I'm looking and updating resumes and searching, and I'm torn. I still do feel that it's partly a waste of my time; that I really have no reason to leave the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while that last statement is true - the career can't be the only part of my life that progresses. I just don't know whether it shouldn't be the most important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7383001-113833216140274051?l=corporatepeon.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/feeds/113833216140274051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7383001&amp;postID=113833216140274051&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113833216140274051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7383001/posts/default/113833216140274051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://corporatepeon.blogspot.com/2006/01/conversationally-so-part-3.html' title='Conversationally So, Part 3'/><author><name>Kate the Peon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02952229032747287426</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18084367403308053654'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>