<?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-2178041693242180139</id><updated>2011-11-01T10:23:43.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marinella's notes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-1852368406618716106</id><published>2011-11-01T10:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T10:21:39.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Notas de dos días</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Día 1:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;No es que quiera dar pena, pero... did anyone ever stop and think about my situation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I  mean, she's on the same damn situation that I've been through months  ago. But I don't feel like anyone has felt for me what they feel for  her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; I guess it's because nobody knew him as much as they know him (that it's not much). But... it's the same!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Should I feel angry for this? I don't know. But it definetely feels weird -- and, envy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; Maybe I'm a fool... but can't help feeling that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I know I don't want that. But... still I miss it, somehow. It feels kind of good...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;All I need is a miracle, all I need is you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I miss good old days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;He just called me his "friend." Ain't that weird? I wouldn't call him my friend... Or I'm not sure...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And  so he's gone. It gave me the chills. I would have kissed him right  away, but I mustn't get in his way; their way. I gave him a cute  goodbye, though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Día 2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Supongo que estoy celosa nada más. Por esta cuestión de "uninvited" que  tengo. Aunque, igual, creo que va un poco más allá de eso...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;¿Por qué nadie quiere notarlo? ¿O soy posta sólo yo?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Y todo, como siempre, estos últimos meses, desemboca en él. Ya ni sé por qué ni cómo. Pero así es...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Por eso no hay que dejar de decirle a la gente querida cuánto uno los quiere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Insisto. Me sale casi automáticamente. Aunqne no quiera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-1852368406618716106?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/1852368406618716106/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=1852368406618716106' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/1852368406618716106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/1852368406618716106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2011/11/notas-de-dos-dias.html' title='Notas de dos días'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-254267992072487860</id><published>2011-07-20T18:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T15:47:38.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From deep inside - 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;At the age of 23 I realized I'm a complete loser. Or not even that cool to be a loser, but a wannabe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;Not only have I really kissed very few guys in my life, but also I've done nothing but tried to be someone else, or try to copy another person's image, or whatever!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm totally lost. I tried to be a mean girl, I tried to follow a (what people would call her) queen bee, I tried to be really good at sports (a jog), a tried to be kind of a nerd, I tried to be an art freak ('performing arts', specially), I tried to be just a freak (almost-punk), I tried to be a geek, and maybe some other stuff too. But the only things I got were: not being mean enough to embarrass other people, not being able to join the popular girls 'cause I wasn't pretty enough, being moved to the "B" group at sports, and then to the volley ball team, in which I sucked, teachers not liking me that much and not getting good grades 'cause I was not that intelligent nor studied that much, not being talented enough to be a good arts performer, didn't really like punk music, and not being sufficiently geek to be a cool geek. (Even though I know geeks are not really cool and popular, there are some people you could say are too geek, hence, cool because of their geek-ness). There, you see? I'm a total loser AND a wannabe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm mad. Mainly I realized about this because I failed at pretty much everything I did in my short life. I know I'm not too old, but I'm not too young either. I really am lost in here. I always thought that by the age of 30 I was going to be dating someone for at least 5 years, whom I would marry, and also being graduated from university, and have something in my life that I was proud of. Like something interesting. But no. And I only have 7 years now to do that. I feel like that's not enough and that I've lost a lot of time already.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;Now, the only thing I can think about instead of my final exams is: WHAT THE FUCK!! I'm not sufficiently talented at almost anything to win something!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For instance, I suck at dates! I don't have dates! Guys won't ask me out, even though some people say I'm gorgeous, I don't know what's wrong, but I don't get invited anywhere. I even suck at speaking to guys I might like. I get really timid and can't speak, and if i do, I only tell bad jokes or non interesting things, or in the end they don't really like me. I know it's an attitude thing. But what the hell! I've been trying to copy so many people that I don't know if I have attitude myself!&lt;br /&gt;The only two guys I've ever dated, I lost them. The first one was really my fault. But I'm pretty sure that if I had continued dating him, he would've dumped me for the same reasons my second boyfriend dumped me. I guess I'm a bit childish, I don't know, and I can't really commit to stuff the way grown ups do, I guess. You see where I'm going? I'm worried about my social life. I really feel like Josie Grosie. In fact, I think I am kind of a Josie Geller from the movie 'Never been kissed' with a bit of Bridget Jones. IN FACT, there's a guy at my job who told me a few weeks ago: "Stop acting like Bridget Jones. Otherwise, you will never get a guy. You should go out and have more fun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I would have thought about it, I would have done what Patrick Dempsey's character did in that movie "Can't buy me love." That's almost exactly what I am: a loser who wants (or wanted) to be popular and couldn't. Though, in that case, even though he behaved like a jackass, he got what he wanted: the girl and popularity, in an odd way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So, how bad is it to realize that you're a loser? And how do I "mend" this and stop being such a jerk living in Loserville, and instead going to the winning side of the world, like the rest of the people? Just being myself? Gosh... I don't think that will work. And I'm not even going to start talking about how people don't take me seriously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-254267992072487860?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/254267992072487860/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=254267992072487860' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/254267992072487860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/254267992072487860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2011/07/from-deep-inside-1.html' title='From deep inside - 1'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-7463808673570208160</id><published>2011-06-15T10:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T10:44:14.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>might become lyrics to a song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;One day I was crying my brother told me I should write a song. And so... here it is what I tried in a 5 minutes cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to cry anymore&lt;br /&gt;every time I think of you&lt;br /&gt;and I don't even know why I still do&lt;br /&gt;all I do is cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the lies you told me&lt;br /&gt;all the pretty lies you told me&lt;br /&gt;somehow now you don't care&lt;br /&gt;how is it that you couldn't care?&lt;br /&gt;and all I still do is cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though it's been some time&lt;br /&gt;I still wonder why&lt;br /&gt;why you left me like that&lt;br /&gt;why you went away with the sun&lt;br /&gt;And all the things you used to say&lt;br /&gt;how is it that you don't care anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know I'm lying to myself&lt;br /&gt;when I think you might be thinking of me&lt;br /&gt;but I can't help it, I just cry&lt;br /&gt;wondering why you left me&lt;br /&gt;and how could you go to the sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought we were always going to be together&lt;br /&gt;no matter what or how&lt;br /&gt;but now I know you're better without me&lt;br /&gt;you're better with the sun&lt;br /&gt;and I still cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I don't even know why is it that I cry&lt;br /&gt;but I just know that I love you&lt;br /&gt;even though you went with the sun&lt;br /&gt;I cry because I love you&lt;br /&gt;and I can't believe we're not together anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I wish I could forget you&lt;br /&gt;forget us together&lt;br /&gt;'cause we don't exist anymore&lt;br /&gt;since you've gone with the sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hope I can stop crying&lt;br /&gt;I hope I can find someone else&lt;br /&gt;someone better for me, like the sun is for you&lt;br /&gt;though I know the sun will never be&lt;br /&gt;better than me, 'cause I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copyright.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-7463808673570208160?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/7463808673570208160/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=7463808673570208160' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7463808673570208160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7463808673570208160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2011/06/might-become-lyrics-to-song.html' title='might become lyrics to a song'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-3812957198971183850</id><published>2011-06-10T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T16:23:05.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;You know when you're like crying and you close your eyes very hard, thinking that if you do so you will suddenly disappear, and that even though you're not physically there, you can still take a look at absolutely everything, like you were a ghost or something. When you wish very bad to become invisible, and not just thanks to the Invisibility Cloak.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;But then you just open your eyes, and you're still there, still crying like a baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;And you try to close them once more, and you can even imagine the sound of yourself disappearing, like a "POOF" or something. But that's when you realize it's not going to happen, and you then wish you could go back in time, somewhere back in time when THAT moment was not even close to existing. And then you think "Fuck you, destiny!" And you remember Jack and Locke back there in the island, and then think again "This was meant to be." Still, you wish for that not to have existed, for you not to have suffered all that pain. For you not to suffer anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;And then of course you realize it's been like half an hour of you sitting on the bathroom toilette and someone from the outside is shouting at you "Hey! Get out of there! I need to use the bathroom, you moron!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-3812957198971183850?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/3812957198971183850/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=3812957198971183850' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/3812957198971183850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/3812957198971183850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-know-when-youre-like-crying-and-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-4536556551820763132</id><published>2011-06-06T15:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T15:11:19.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad, bad PUF!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;Y justo cuando creía que ya lo había encontrado, ¡PUF! Se fue todo al carajo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;¿Por qué nadie me avisó? ¿O por qué nadie me advirtió?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;¿Por qué es que lo hizo? Eso nunca lo sabré.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;Si hay algo que odio es tener intriga, duda, no saber por qué pasan algunas cosas que me interesan, o que quiero. Y esto me mata. La intriga me mata. Aunque sea lo más horrible del mundo, necesito por alguna razón saberlo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;Algunos dicen que hay que olvidar. And, God, I'm really trying. "And some days I feel like dying. But I'm really only trying to get through."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;When did all go wrong? What did I do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;"Was it something I said or something I did?" O al revés.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;It hurts. "Give me novocaine."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;" &gt;Y muchas otras cosas que pasan por mi cabeza. Pero, por ahora, sólo esas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-4536556551820763132?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/4536556551820763132/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=4536556551820763132' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4536556551820763132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4536556551820763132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2011/06/bad-bad-puf.html' title='Bad, bad PUF!'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-7857079796815910314</id><published>2009-05-26T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T19:40:27.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My junk.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;In the midst of this nothing. This miss of a life. Still there's this one thing just to see you go by.&lt;br /&gt;It's almost like lovin'. Sad as that is.&lt;br /&gt;May not be cool, but it's so where I live.&lt;br /&gt;It's like i'm your lover or more like your ghost. I spend the day wondering what you do, where you go.&lt;br /&gt;I try and just kick it but then what can I do?We've all got our junk, and my junk is you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;See us, winter walking after a storm. It's chill in the wind but it's warm in your arms. We stop all snow blind, may not be trueWe've all got our junk, and my junk is you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well, you’ll have to excuse me, I know it’s so off. I love when you do stuff that’s rude and so wrong.&lt;br /&gt;I go up to my room, turn the stereo on… Shoot up some you in the you of some song.&lt;br /&gt;I lie back just driftin' and play out these scenes I ride on the rush all the hopes all the dreams.&lt;br /&gt;I May be neglecting the things I should do. We've all got our junk, and my junk is you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;See we still keep talkin' after you're gone. You still with me then feels so good in my arms. They say you go blind, maybe it's true. We've all got our junk, and my junk is you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It's like we stop time. What can I do? We've all got our junk, and my junk is you. My junk is you. My junk is you. You. You. You.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;From Spring Awakening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-7857079796815910314?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/7857079796815910314/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=7857079796815910314' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7857079796815910314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7857079796815910314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-junk.html' title='My junk.'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-8539848923108442541</id><published>2009-03-10T18:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T04:46:01.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NEWLY</title><content type='html'>My dream:&lt;br /&gt;Eran las audiciones, y yo daba lo mejor de mi y tenia una buena audición. Llegó el día en que nos daban los papeles, y para mi sorpresa (y de muchos más) los papeles principales le pertenecían a los más jóvenes. Furiosa porque a mi me habia tocado un mínimo papel, enfrento al director por habermelo dado a mi. El papel era el de Mamá Pomelo. Un personaje inventado para la obra, y que su única función era hacer notar que nada le importaba, que todo era 'rock'. Y su única línea: "ROCK N ROLL, BABY!". Indignada, gritándole al Director, exidiendole que me diera otro personaje, que yo no quería ser mamá, y mucho menos Mamá Pomelo.&lt;br /&gt;Y así fue cómo surgió el chiste de Mamá Pomelo, también conocida como Grapefruit Moma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hasta la próxima.&lt;br /&gt;XOXO&lt;br /&gt;Gossip Girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-8539848923108442541?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/8539848923108442541/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=8539848923108442541' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/8539848923108442541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/8539848923108442541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2009/03/newly.html' title='NEWLY'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-6342754735160183417</id><published>2008-10-03T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T17:23:47.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teoría de los hombres con novia (stolen)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SOa3YktrGmI/AAAAAAAAAiE/Y058uWqr880/s1600-h/lovers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253087648174250594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 306px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 222px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="179" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SOa3YktrGmI/AAAAAAAAAiE/Y058uWqr880/s200/lovers.jpg" width="253" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;La teoría dice: "Todos los hombres con novia son más atractivos cuando están de novios que cuando no lo están. Y cuando cortan una relación, por unas semanas, les queda ese 'olorcito' a novio, y siguen siendo más atractivos que otros."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;La teoría concluye en que "A las mujeres les gusta más un chico cuando está de novio."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gracias Arturo y gracias Shaw. Ellos me enseñaron esta teoría.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-6342754735160183417?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/6342754735160183417/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=6342754735160183417' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/6342754735160183417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/6342754735160183417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/10/teora-de-los-hombres-con-novia-stolen.html' title='Teoría de los hombres con novia (stolen)'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SOa3YktrGmI/AAAAAAAAAiE/Y058uWqr880/s72-c/lovers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-5719517875447867987</id><published>2008-09-23T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T19:43:47.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning To Be Silent.</title><content type='html'>VI&lt;br /&gt;Swallowing my words&lt;br /&gt;Staring at the floor&lt;br /&gt;Counting little cracks in the tile&lt;br /&gt;Struggling to smile without choking&lt;br /&gt;Learning to be silent&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Watching how the dust&lt;br /&gt;Dances out the door&lt;br /&gt;Noticing my hands start to shake&lt;br /&gt;Contemplating taking up smoking&lt;br /&gt;Learning to be silent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Always hearing&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;"Hush, Ethel!"&lt;br /&gt;VI"Please, Vi!"&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;"Let's not have this conversation"&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;And so I stand by&lt;br /&gt;While my mind takes a small vacation&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;La la la la la la la la&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;Making little sounds&lt;br /&gt;Other folks ignore&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Quieting the beat of my heart&lt;br /&gt;Never being part of the moment&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Learning to be silent&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;Learning there are some topics that we don't even mention&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;And if they come up, then we try to be vague&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;There are subjects from which we divert all attention&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;And some we avoid like the plague&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;I'm&lt;br /&gt;Becoming a mime&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;Biting my tongue&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Biding my time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;Trying not to scream&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Managed it before&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Knowing if I'm going to survive&lt;br /&gt;Then, dammit&lt;br /&gt;ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;I've got to practice&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;Practice&lt;br /&gt;VI &amp;amp; ETHEL&lt;br /&gt;Learning hmm hmm hmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hope I can get to sing this song, at least! It feels so deep.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-5719517875447867987?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/5719517875447867987/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=5719517875447867987' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/5719517875447867987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/5719517875447867987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/09/learning-to-be-silent.html' title='Learning To Be Silent.'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-8612492957929655017</id><published>2008-09-03T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T18:58:56.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PAPABELLL (AKA: Build, de HouseMartins)</title><content type='html'>Clambering men in big bad boots&lt;br /&gt;Dug up my den, dug up my roots&lt;br /&gt;Treated us like plasticine town&lt;br /&gt;They built us up and knocked us down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From meccano to legoland&lt;br /&gt;Here they come with a brick in their hand&lt;br /&gt;Men with heads filled up with sand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its build&lt;br /&gt;Its build a house where we can stay&lt;br /&gt;Add a new bit everyday&lt;br /&gt;Its build a road for us to cross&lt;br /&gt;Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whistling men in yellow vans&lt;br /&gt;They can and drew us diagrams&lt;br /&gt;Showed us how it all worked it out&lt;br /&gt;And wrote it down in case of doubt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slow, slow, quick, quick, quick&lt;br /&gt;Its wall to wall and brick to brick&lt;br /&gt;They work so fast it makes you sick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its build&lt;br /&gt;Its build a house where we can stay&lt;br /&gt;Add a new bit everyday&lt;br /&gt;Its build a road for us to cross&lt;br /&gt;Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its build&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down with sticks and up with bricks&lt;br /&gt;In with boots and up with roots&lt;br /&gt;Its in with suits and new recruits&lt;br /&gt;Its build&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Es mas copada la canción si no sabés la letra, creo yo.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;jejeje papabellllll everydayayayayayayyyy papabellll laralalala bellll&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-8612492957929655017?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/8612492957929655017/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=8612492957929655017' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/8612492957929655017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/8612492957929655017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/09/papabelll-aka-build-de-housemartins.html' title='PAPABELLL (AKA: Build, de HouseMartins)'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-1054162053699013159</id><published>2008-08-25T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T20:50:53.567-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Avenue Q - It sucks to be me</title><content type='html'>(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;When I was littleI thought I would be...&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;A big comedianon late night TV&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm thirty-two&lt;br /&gt;And as you can see I'm not&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;Nope!&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;Oh Well,It sucks to be me.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;Nooo.&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;No!&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be broke and unemployed and turning thirty-three.It sucks to be me.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you think your life sucks?&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;I think so.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;Your problems aren't so bad! I'm kinda pretty And pretty damn smart.&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;You are.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;Thanks! I like romantic things Like music and art. And as you know I have a gigantic heart So why don't I have A boyfriend? Fuck! It sucks to be me!&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;Me too.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me.&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me.It sucks to be Brian...&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;And Kate...&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;To not have a job!&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;To not have a date!&lt;br /&gt;BOTH&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROD&lt;br /&gt;We live together.&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;We're as close As people can get.&lt;br /&gt;ROD&lt;br /&gt;We've been the best of buddies...&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;Ever since the Day we met.&lt;br /&gt;ROD&lt;br /&gt;So he knows lots Of ways to make me&lt;br /&gt;Really upset. Oh, every day is An aggravation.&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;Come on, that's an exaggeration!&lt;br /&gt;ROD&lt;br /&gt;You leave your clothes out.&lt;br /&gt;You put your feet On my chair.&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah? You do such anal&lt;br /&gt;Things like ironing Your underwear.&lt;br /&gt;ROD&lt;br /&gt;You make that very Small apartment We share a hell.&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;So do you, That's why I'm in hell too!&lt;br /&gt;ROD&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me!&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;No, it sucks to be me!&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me!&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be me!&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;Is there anybody here It doesn't suck to be? It sucks to be me!&lt;br /&gt;CHRISTMAS EVE&lt;br /&gt;Why you all so happy?&lt;br /&gt;NICKY&lt;br /&gt;Becuase our lives suck!&lt;br /&gt;CHRISTMAS EVE&lt;br /&gt;Your lives suck? I hearing you correctly? Ha!&lt;br /&gt;I coming to this country For opportunities.&lt;br /&gt;Tried to work in Korean deli But I am Japanese. But with hard work I earn two Master's Degrees In social work! And now I a therapist! But I have no clients And I have an Unemployed fiance'! And we have lots Of bills to pay! It suck to be me!&lt;br /&gt;It suck to be me!&lt;br /&gt;I say it Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Sucka-Suck!&lt;br /&gt;It suck to be me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GARY COLEMAN&lt;br /&gt;Yes I am! I'm Gary Coleman From TV's Diff'rent Strokes&lt;br /&gt;I made a lotta money That got stolen By my folks!&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm broke and I'm the butt Of everyone's jokes,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm here - The Superintendent! On Avenue Q -&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be you.&lt;br /&gt;KATE MONSTER&lt;br /&gt;You win!&lt;br /&gt;ALL&lt;br /&gt;It sucks to be you.&lt;br /&gt;BRIAN&lt;br /&gt;I feel better now!&lt;br /&gt;GARY COLEMAN&lt;br /&gt;Try having people stopping you to ask you&lt;br /&gt;"What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" It gets old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-1054162053699013159?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/1054162053699013159/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=1054162053699013159' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/1054162053699013159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/1054162053699013159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/08/avenue-q-it-sucks-to-be-me.html' title='Avenue Q - It sucks to be me'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-4386383819808141037</id><published>2008-08-02T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T17:49:30.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TE QUIERO CONMIGO</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que me mimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que me abraces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que me beses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que salgamos a pasear, para que vayamos a la plaza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para ir de la mano juntos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que me mires, para poder yo mirarte a vos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que me digas cosas lindas, y yo decirtelas a vos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que viajemos en tu auto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para ir a comer juntos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que hablemos, para que nos conozcamos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo para que me quieras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Te quiero conmigo, conmigo, te quiero conmigo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-4386383819808141037?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/4386383819808141037/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=4386383819808141037' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4386383819808141037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4386383819808141037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/08/te-quiero-conmigo.html' title='TE QUIERO CONMIGO'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-5261978459642452283</id><published>2008-07-27T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T21:01:12.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ALLEGRIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un lampo di vita&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un pazzo gridar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Del delittuoso grido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Bella ruggente pena, seren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come la rabbia di amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un assalto di gioia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I see a spark of life shining&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I hear a young minstrel sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Beautiful roaring scream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Of joy and sorrow, so extreme&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There is a love in me raging&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A joyous, magical feeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un lampo di vita&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un pazzo gridar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Del delittuoso grido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Bella ruggente pena, seren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come la rabbia di amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un assalto di gioia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Del delittuoso grido&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Bella ruggente pena, seren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come la rabbia di amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Allegria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Come un assalto di gioia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alegría&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Como la luz de la vida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alegría&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Como un payaso que grita&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alegría&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Del estupendo grito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;De la tristeza loca Serena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Como la rabia de amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alegría&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Como un asalto de felicidad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Del estupendo grito&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;De la tristeza loca Serena&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Como la rabia de amar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alegría&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Como un asalto de felicidad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There is a love in me raging&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alegría&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A joyous, magical feeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-5261978459642452283?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/5261978459642452283/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=5261978459642452283' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/5261978459642452283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/5261978459642452283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/07/allegria.html' title='ALLEGRIA'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-4869004005870146471</id><published>2008-07-15T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T17:16:08.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Somebody to love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;Each morning I get up I die a little&lt;br /&gt;Can barely stand on my feet&lt;br /&gt;Take a look in the mirror and cry&lt;br /&gt;Lord what youre doing to me&lt;br /&gt;I have spent all my years in believing you&lt;br /&gt;But I just cant get no relief,&lt;br /&gt;Lord!&lt;br /&gt;Somebody, somebody&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work hard every day of my life&lt;br /&gt;I work till I ache my bones&lt;br /&gt;At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -&lt;br /&gt;I get down on my knees&lt;br /&gt;And I start to pray&lt;br /&gt;Till the tears run down from my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Lord - somebody - somebody&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me - somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(he works hard)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday - I try and I try and I try -&lt;br /&gt;But everybody wants to put me down&lt;br /&gt;They say Im goin crazy&lt;br /&gt;They say I got a lot of water in my brain&lt;br /&gt;Got no common sense&lt;br /&gt;I got nobody left to believe&lt;br /&gt;Yeah - yeah yeah yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh lord&lt;br /&gt;Somebody - somebody&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got no feel, I got no rhythm&lt;br /&gt;I just keep losing my beat&lt;br /&gt;Im ok, Im alright&lt;br /&gt;Aint gonna face no defeat&lt;br /&gt;I just gotta get out of this prison cell&lt;br /&gt;Someday Im gonna be free, lord!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find me somebody to love&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody find me somebody to love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-4869004005870146471?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/4869004005870146471/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=4869004005870146471' title='4 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4869004005870146471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4869004005870146471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/07/somebody-to-love.html' title='Somebody to love'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-3339755903921429162</id><published>2008-07-04T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T20:09:58.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RAE</title><content type='html'>sensible.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. sensibĭlis).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. adj. Que siente, física y moralmente.&lt;br /&gt;2. adj. Que puede ser conocido por medio de los sentidos.&lt;br /&gt;3. adj. Perceptible, manifiesto, patente al entendimiento.&lt;br /&gt;4. adj. Que causa o mueve sentimientos de pena o de dolor.&lt;br /&gt;5. adj. Dicho de una persona: Que se deja llevar fácilmente del sentimiento.&lt;br /&gt;6. adj. Que cede o responde fácilmente a la acción de ciertos agentes.&lt;br /&gt;7. adj. Mús. Se dice de la séptima nota de la escala diatónica. U. t. c. s. f.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;paranoia&lt;br /&gt;(Del gr. παράνοια; de παρά, al lado, contra, y νόος, espíritu).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. f. Perturbación mental fijada en una idea o en un orden de ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perturbar.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. perturbāre).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. tr. Inmutar, trastornar el orden y concierto, o la quietud y el sosiego de algo o de alguien. U. t. c. prnl.&lt;br /&gt;2. tr. Impedir el orden del discurso a quien va hablando.&lt;br /&gt;3. prnl. Dicho de una persona: Perder el juicio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bizarro, rra.&lt;br /&gt;(De it. bizzarro, iracundo).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. adj. valiente (‖ esforzado).&lt;br /&gt;2. adj. Generoso, lucido, espléndido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enervar.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. enervāre).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. tr. Debilitar, quitar las fuerzas. U. t. c. prnl.&lt;br /&gt;2. tr. Debilitar la fuerza de las razones o argumentos. U. t. c. prnl.&lt;br /&gt;3. tr. Poner nervioso. U. t. c. prnl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ostentoso, sa.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. ostentāre).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. adj. Magnífico, suntuoso, aparatoso y digno de verse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;soberbia.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. superbĭa).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. f. Altivez y apetito desordenado de ser preferido a otros.&lt;br /&gt;2. f. Satisfacción y envanecimiento por la contemplación de las propias prendas con menosprecio de los demás.&lt;br /&gt;3. f. Especialmente hablando de los edificios, exceso en la magnificencia, suntuosidad o pompa.&lt;br /&gt;4. f. Cólera e ira expresadas con acciones descompuestas o palabras altivas e injuriosas.&lt;br /&gt;5. f. ant. Palabra o acción injuriosa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;narcisismo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. m. Manía propia del narciso2.&lt;br /&gt;2. m. Excesiva complacencia en la consideración de las propias facultades u obras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;egocentrismo.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. ego, yo, y centro).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. m. Exagerada exaltación de la propia personalidad, hasta considerarla como centro de la atención y actividad generales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tímido, da.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. timĭdus).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. adj. Temeroso, medroso, encogido y corto de ánimo. U. t. c. s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sensible.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. sensibĭlis).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. adj. Que siente, física y moralmente.&lt;br /&gt;2. adj. Que puede ser conocido por medio de los sentidos.&lt;br /&gt;3. adj. Perceptible, manifiesto, patente al entendimiento.&lt;br /&gt;4. adj. Que causa o mueve sentimientos de pena o de dolor.&lt;br /&gt;5. adj. Dicho de una persona: Que se deja llevar fácilmente del sentimiento.&lt;br /&gt;6. adj. Que cede o responde fácilmente a la acción de ciertos agentes.&lt;br /&gt;7. adj. Mús. Se dice de la séptima nota de la escala diatónica. U. t. c. s. f.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enamorado, da.&lt;br /&gt;(Del part. de enamorar).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. adj. Que tiene amor. U. t. c. s.&lt;br /&gt;2. adj. enamoradizo.&lt;br /&gt;3. adj. Muy aficionado a algo. U. t. c. s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;adicción.&lt;br /&gt;(Del lat. addictĭo, -ōnis).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. f. Hábito de quien se deja dominar por el uso de alguna o algunas drogas tóxicas, o por la afición desmedida a ciertos juegos.&lt;br /&gt;2. f. desus. Asignación, entrega, adhesión.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para más información, www.rae.es&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-3339755903921429162?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/3339755903921429162/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=3339755903921429162' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/3339755903921429162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/3339755903921429162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/07/rae.html' title='RAE'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-8631775829810554908</id><published>2008-07-02T18:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T18:35:52.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mercedes Benz</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;My friends all drive porsches, I must make amends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;So oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Oh lord won't you buy me a color TV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Dialing for dollars is trying to find me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I wait for delivery each day until 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;So oh lord won't you buy me a color TV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Oh lord won't you buy me a night on the town&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I'm counting on you lord, please don't let me down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Prove that you love me and buy the next round&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Oh lord won't you buy me a night on the town. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;My friends all drive porsches, I must make amends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;So oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Also find me somebody to love&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-8631775829810554908?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/8631775829810554908/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=8631775829810554908' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/8631775829810554908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/8631775829810554908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/07/mercedes-benz.html' title='Mercedes Benz'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-7051884162046220452</id><published>2008-06-22T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T06:26:23.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SF7stwLNucI/AAAAAAAAAhk/AsflWKPIaYk/s1600-h/200519987-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214865689311820226" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SF7stwLNucI/AAAAAAAAAhk/AsflWKPIaYk/s200/200519987-001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;She believed that people only liked her because she was innocent, she looked innocent. But when she lost all that kind of innocence -maybe when she got tired of everyone treating her like a little girl- people stopped liking her, and instead, started to hate her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;She loved being loved by the rest; she loved being childish, and people loving her because of that. But at the same time she hated it. She was more than a child. In fact, she a was very grown up girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;At one point, she didn't know how to be. If she was innocent (which was not very difficult for her), then people would treat her like a stupid girl. But if she lost all that innocence, and tried to be more like a woman (and almost a mean woman, like the rest of the people), then they would stop liking her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;So she wondered wether to be or not to be. That was the question, indeed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-7051884162046220452?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/7051884162046220452/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=7051884162046220452' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7051884162046220452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7051884162046220452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/06/she-believed-that-people-only-liked-her.html' title=''/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SF7stwLNucI/AAAAAAAAAhk/AsflWKPIaYk/s72-c/200519987-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-2638491728689196889</id><published>2008-06-14T07:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T07:12:37.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Voy a confesar que no sé usar muy bien este blog. Y también voy a confesar que me gustaría poder escribir muchas otras cosas pero no me animo no sé por qué.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;De todas formas, lo que me imagino que escribo, nunca queda escrito, y si empiezo a escribirlo, nunca lo termino porque me da fiaca. Punto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Y repito: siento que este blog es algo así como para escritores frustrados, o buenos escritores que nunca llegan a componer una novela.  Pues, yo no pertenezco a ninguno, quizás escritora frustrada, pero escritora porque me gusta escribir pavadas, no novelas, y frustrada pues... porque me frustra no poder escribir ni siquiera una pavada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Anyway, I feel like dancing all the time, but not dancing en un boliche, sino dancing una coreografía. No sé qué me pasa; creo que es la falta de teatro (pero comedia musical).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Pronto, en mi blog: &lt;em&gt;Tulsa, el musical&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-2638491728689196889?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/2638491728689196889/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=2638491728689196889' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/2638491728689196889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/2638491728689196889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/06/voy-confesar-que-no-s-usar-muy-bien.html' title=''/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-4987913097705571947</id><published>2008-06-10T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T19:28:58.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>me quiero volver chango!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;existen varias razones por las cuales una persona como yo querria volverse chango. pero, yo creo que sufro de memoria a corto plazo, por ende, si pienso algo, al ratito ya no lo recuerdo. ponele, esa es una razon para querer volverme chango. tengo unos pobres gigabytes de memoria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;otra razon podria ser mi poca capacidad de almacenamiento de energia. es decir, no puedo almacenar la energia que obtengo de la comida por mucho tiempo. yo creo que si me perdiera por muchos dias en el campo (o en el desierto, en su defecto) verdaderamente, moriria de hambre. pero no a los 10 dias, sino a los... 3 dias!!! es increible lo poco que aguanto sin comer. es por eso que me quiero volver chango, porque ni en mis sueños puedo hacer dieta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;y hablando de sueños, y aplica a mis kb de memoria para los sueños, changos! ni eso puedo recordar. apenas me despierto, recuerdo unas cositas, pero a los 10 minutos de haberme despertado, ya me olvide de todo. y a veces son tan lindos los sueños que uno desearia poder recordarlos forever and ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;otra razon para volverme chango, y aplica a mi poca capacidad de almacenar energia y todo eso, es que jamas podria estar a dieta. ni siquiera si me lo propongo. aunque quizas todavia no me lo propuse en serio. soy un poco floja con eso. creo que cuando tenga hijos, si alguna vez los tengo, van a ser muy malcriados, si es que puedo malcriarlos. seriamente, repito, no puedo estar mas de 2 horas sin comer algo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;y la verdad, yo se que estoy repetitiva, pero me encantaria tener el don de la escritura, o por lo menos escribir bien, y que de gusto leerme, pero como tengo poca imaginacion, poco vocabulario, y poca memoria, me es un poco dificil. asi que ahi te va otra razon para que yo me quiera volver chango. y hay muchas mas razones, por eso lo digo. pero como ya no las recuerdo... no puedo seguir.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;quizas nos volveremos a ver en otro de mis capitulos de las notas de marinella.?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;pd: ya se, si me leiste, te puso loco/a que no pusiera ni mayusculas ni tildes. ni tampoco una buena puntuacion. yo tengo una teoria sobre eso. a mi me pone bastante nerviosa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-4987913097705571947?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/4987913097705571947/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=4987913097705571947' title='3 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4987913097705571947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/4987913097705571947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/06/me-quiero-volver-chango.html' title='me quiero volver chango!'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-7396371820467320079</id><published>2008-06-01T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T11:20:42.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why can't my life be a musical?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I sing the body electric&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I celebrate the me yet to come&lt;br /&gt;I toast to my own reunion&lt;br /&gt;When I become one with the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;And I'll look back on Venus, I'll look back on Mars&lt;br /&gt;And I'll burn with the fire of ten million stars&lt;br /&gt;And in time And in time We will all be stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I sing the body electric&lt;br /&gt;I glory in the glow of rebirth&lt;br /&gt;Creating my own tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;When I shall embody the earth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;And I'll serenade Venus I'll serenade Mars&lt;br /&gt;And I'll burn with the fire of ten million stars&lt;br /&gt;And in time And in time We will all be stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;We are the emperors now And we are the czars&lt;br /&gt;And in time And in time We will all be stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I sing the body Electric&lt;br /&gt;I celebrate the me yet to come&lt;br /&gt;I toast to my own reunion (my own reunion)&lt;br /&gt;When I become one with the stars&lt;br /&gt;And I'll Look back on Venus (I'll look back on vanity) I'll look back on Mars (Ill at this path)&lt;br /&gt;I'll burn with the fire (burn) Of 10 million stars (fire inside)&lt;br /&gt;And in time (And in time) And in time And in time (and in time) And in time And in time (and in time) And in time&lt;br /&gt;WE WILL ALL BE STARS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7acuzKu7ag&amp;amp;NR=1http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrdJnVtJy7w&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7acuzKu7ag&amp;amp;NR=1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrdJnVtJy7w&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrdJnVtJy7w&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6oL71f_KMGw&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6oL71f_KMGw&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-7396371820467320079?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/7396371820467320079/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=7396371820467320079' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7396371820467320079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/7396371820467320079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/06/why-cant-my-life-be-musical.html' title='Why can&apos;t my life be a musical?'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-3012051421040547299</id><published>2008-05-13T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T06:26:23.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Algo today</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Who on EARTH has told me that I should go ahead and study this??? It's the third time I begin something, and it's the third time I wonder about it, and on why the heck I chose it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;-Jonny says I shouldn't say swearing words, but sometimes I just can't-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I wish everything was just like in the movies. Bloody movies! Why are you so unreal?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199985549631240242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="134" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SCoPToLvODI/AAAAAAAAAhc/uiCE6H9KrMY/s200/aaron+and+caddy.jpg" width="235" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-3012051421040547299?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/3012051421040547299/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=3012051421040547299' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/3012051421040547299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/3012051421040547299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/05/algo-today.html' title='Algo today'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yJrwtGcWttQ/SCoPToLvODI/AAAAAAAAAhc/uiCE6H9KrMY/s72-c/aaron+and+caddy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2178041693242180139.post-2099444807171824045</id><published>2008-05-11T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T19:37:13.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>U sheco</title><content type='html'>Antes que nada, vale aclarar que mi italiano no es para nada exacto, pero más o menos algo sale.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, it's Siciliano... suena algo asi como:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- "Pe, lu pa u murio!"&lt;br /&gt;- "E lu sheco a cu u lasao?"&lt;br /&gt;- "A la ma!"&lt;br /&gt;- "E la ma che se lo chiange!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Nonna says this all the time. Es un dicho siciliano que, apparently, entre ellos, es gracioso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2178041693242180139-2099444807171824045?l=pennyintheair.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/feeds/2099444807171824045/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2178041693242180139&amp;postID=2099444807171824045' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/2099444807171824045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2178041693242180139/posts/default/2099444807171824045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pennyintheair.blogspot.com/2008/05/u-sheco.html' title='U sheco'/><author><name>Penny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02348100273907369774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
