<?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-4379503188652383281</id><updated>2011-07-07T17:44:17.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shrop Stop</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-4329706724030852905</id><published>2010-06-16T14:58:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T16:03:54.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blogger formerly known as Shrop</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;You might be asking yourself where I've been...or actually you might not of even noticed I was gone, but be that as it may, I decided to make a post for many reasons.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I haven't made one in right about 9 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;2.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's summer and I have very little to do so I thought I would record my random musings for the world wide web to enjoy.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have no car to go anywhere or do anything because sadly, the faithful Civic is on her last leg...or wheel...or whatever.  Moment of silence please....OK moving on.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have a lot of things I currently adore at this present time and I felt it imperative to share them with you, the blogging community, immediately, so here goes, in no particular order:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. &lt;/span&gt;To get the cheese factor over with early in the post, I'm going to say one of the things I love the most right now (and probably forever and ever amen, (shout out to Randy Travis)) is my fiancé and soon to husband (WHAT?!) Benjamin Strout.  He loves the Lord, he's smart, he's funny, he fixes just about anything, he can build and design pretty much anything, he has such a sweet and tender heart, and those are just a few things.   I am such a blessed woman to get to spend the rest of my days with my bestest friend... :)  I mean look at that face...come on...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBkvn-D1aSI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Evr3pWeFL8A/s1600/paaaaarty+tiiiime+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBkvn-D1aSI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Evr3pWeFL8A/s320/paaaaarty+tiiiime+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483466385020774690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBkvn-D1aSI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Evr3pWeFL8A/s1600/paaaaarty+tiiiime+001.jpg"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2.&lt;/span&gt; I have a new found love for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pandora Radio&lt;/span&gt;.  It makes my days and moments oh so much more entertaining.  Ever since Birmingham did away with the very best radio station in the history of the world (LIVE 100.5) I have missed hearing great new music, but then I remembered my good friend Pandora, who can created a station of your liking at the click of the mouse.  If it plays a song you like and you want to hear more of it, give it a thumbs up.  If you absolutely hate it and have no idea why your dear Pandora would ever choose to play that song for you, give it a big thumbs down and you'll never hear it again...it's brilliant!  A J. Timberlake Station, a Ben Folds station, an Amos Lee Station, Across the Universe Soundtrack, Luda, even a Glee Cast station...it's fantastic.  Which brings me to my next love...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. &lt;/span&gt;GLEE!  It probably comes as no surprise to most of you that I, without a doubt, love, Love, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LOVE &lt;/span&gt;this show!  As a veteran of "show choir" (though I must say we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never &lt;/span&gt;did anything as awesome or to the caliber that New Directions has done, but anyway...) this show holds a special place in my heart.  It combines all the things I love: music, sarcasm, quick wit and cutting pop-culture references, randomly breaking out into song, Broadway hits/stars, amazing dance sequences, guest stars like Neil Patrick Harris, and the lovely Mr. Schu.  And that Sue Sylvester...the things she says...and with a straight face...it's pure comic gold. AND my sweet Dominique informed me that the cast is going on TOUR this summer!  If only I wasn't getting married and had to save every dime, I tell you, I would be there!  Maybe I can register for it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBkznD5fMQI/AAAAAAAAAHM/XJElrqL2Jfw/s1600/glee.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 146px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBkznD5fMQI/AAAAAAAAAHM/XJElrqL2Jfw/s200/glee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483470767454630146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk0KuillAI/AAAAAAAAAHk/tKyT6hCPSFk/s1600/glee2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 226px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk0KuillAI/AAAAAAAAAHk/tKyT6hCPSFk/s200/glee2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483471380196725762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4.  &lt;/span&gt;Now the next on my list is not so much a "love" as it is a "love/hate."  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred &lt;/span&gt;has become my newest frienemy (friend+enemy...duh).  Since I'm getting married and it's the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ONE DAY &lt;/span&gt;where it's OK for everything to be about you, I decided I needed to "shape up" for the big event.  It's only 20 minutes (30 counting warm-up and cool-down), but it is the longest. 20. minutes. EVER.  I have started this 3-level program many time and never quite made it past level 1, but for the first time (today actually) I officially moved on to level 2 and I can proudly say, with only a few modifications, I successfully completed it.  Now I just have to stick with it...just keep thinking "wedding dress, wedding dress."  I am hoping it pays off come July 10th and that I am, in fact, shredded...tastefully, of course.  After all, I don't want to end up like this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk2YmIJ8nI/AAAAAAAAAH0/v2E4q0UNDIU/s1600/Lisa_Aukland_Pro_IFBB_Bodybuilder_Female_f_ezr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 326px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk2YmIJ8nI/AAAAAAAAAH0/v2E4q0UNDIU/s320/Lisa_Aukland_Pro_IFBB_Bodybuilder_Female_f_ezr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483473817479803506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;GEW!!! It's like Kelly Ripa on steroids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. &lt;/span&gt;Sephora.  Now, this love is not new by any means.  In fact, it is a place that, I think, for the rest of my life, I will constantly love and adore.  I have never not gone into that store and spent more than necessary, but sadly, I am never disappointed with my purchases.  From face powder (bless you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bare Minerals)&lt;/span&gt;, to eye shadow (Bare minerals and even Sephora brand...they got it goin' on), to moisturizers (thank you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Smashbox Photo Light Finisher&lt;/span&gt;), and perfumes (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pure Grace &lt;/span&gt;by Philosophy is pure genius), they have all your beauty needs.  It's glorious.  I will be sad to no longer like in The Summit where Sephora was merely a stones throw away.  Oh well, that just means I will have to stop by there on my way home from work instead of whenever the crap I want...such sacrifice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. &lt;/span&gt;Next on my loves of the moment would be nail polish.  In January, I stopped biting my nails (a habit I had perfected for over the past 20 years...seriously, no exaggeration) by keeping dark polish of sorts on my nails and before I knew it, I had nails.  Only problem is now the anxiety relief I once used to feel in biting my nails is only felt by placing a fresh coat of polish on my nails.  I have found the crazy the color, the more I love it. (Enter: the crazy, sparkly green polish I had on my hands the night I got engaged...Ben said it reminded him of some sort of Japanese car paint.)  I do love softer colors as well; in fact, I just bought a nudish gold last night, which I am very excited about using.  Right now I am enjoying "Read My Palm" by OPI by Sephora...a lovely greenish-blue shade.  I could go on forever about my love of nail polish, so for that, I will move on&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk6ITkIjFI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Uszjq45UpFg/s1600/opi_master.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk6ITkIjFI/AAAAAAAAAIM/Uszjq45UpFg/s200/opi_master.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483477935665482834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk6HptDGDI/AAAAAAAAAH8/gFuf-zqQrGc/s1600/img-thing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 157px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk6HptDGDI/AAAAAAAAAH8/gFuf-zqQrGc/s200/img-thing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483477924428585010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk6H99Q-1I/AAAAAAAAAIE/AYPe_MYDs5k/s1600/OPI+copy%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBk6H99Q-1I/AAAAAAAAAIE/AYPe_MYDs5k/s200/OPI+copy%5B1%5D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483477929865313106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Well, I think that is all for now on my list of "loves."  I am sure I could think of more and add to this list, but I'll save that for another post.  Thank you for successfully waisting at least 5-10 minutes of your day reading about the useless things I enjoy.  And please, feel free to contribute to the list...until next time...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-4329706724030852905?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/4329706724030852905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=4329706724030852905' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/4329706724030852905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/4329706724030852905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2010/06/blogger-formerly-known-as-shrop.html' title='The Blogger formerly known as Shrop'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/TBkvn-D1aSI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Evr3pWeFL8A/s72-c/paaaaarty+tiiiime+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-718442062274974897</id><published>2009-09-28T16:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T17:38:52.837-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The shot heard round the world...</title><content type='html'>So, ok I know I've taken a bit of a T.O. from the whole blogging thing, but that's because I felt as though I have had no hilarious antics to entertain you with, and truth is, I still REALLY don't; however, I do have a hilarious video from this summer that I have just not been able to get to cooperate on Facebook so I am left with no other option but to put it on here.  It really is a magnificent sight...I think anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer, Dom had the 1st anniversary of her 25th birthday (you might call it her, 26th birthday, but we believe otherwise) so in standard fashion, the night of Eva's wedding, we were left with no other option than to go to get birthday margs.  And also, in standard fashion, since one Lucy T. Burrett was there, Dom was guilted into taking a birthday shot.  Now, like all of us, Dom is no shot coneseur.  We just don't take them.  Plain and simple.  And as a result, these videos ensued.  You all are welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b93f5c5855550c81" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db93f5c5855550c81%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331557151%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D45921A10ADF981A43A287DAA8F14A7CC91093909.61BF02BA2FC38E7561426A3CF7127A18677CEDCF%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db93f5c5855550c81%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D12oD9OnEqWVO4Eo7WA5_jg60gLQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db93f5c5855550c81%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331557151%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D45921A10ADF981A43A287DAA8F14A7CC91093909.61BF02BA2FC38E7561426A3CF7127A18677CEDCF%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db93f5c5855550c81%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D12oD9OnEqWVO4Eo7WA5_jg60gLQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Notice the intense force with which she pounds LudaChristopher King's arm.  Bless him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-37db4ec83a969e59" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D37db4ec83a969e59%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331557151%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D32305A2A1374F3231DD15F7BA1A3FF24BE27DC15.6485284C7E740DC4B0D73C07E86BA408A5FE2B47%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D37db4ec83a969e59%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DlHRp3g5zVseI8ZtMe6FegUiuU4k&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt4.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D37db4ec83a969e59%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331557151%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D32305A2A1374F3231DD15F7BA1A3FF24BE27DC15.6485284C7E740DC4B0D73C07E86BA408A5FE2B47%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D37db4ec83a969e59%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DlHRp3g5zVseI8ZtMe6FegUiuU4k&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We need some encouragement and help from a neighbor, so a random named Jim came up to give Dom some pointers.  And also, we each had to take a little sip of the shot to help Domma out.  Anything we can do for the birthday girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-718442062274974897?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/718442062274974897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=718442062274974897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/718442062274974897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/718442062274974897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/09/shot-heard-round-world.html' title='The shot heard round the world...'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-744212590003992466</id><published>2009-07-30T13:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T13:37:04.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dance til you can't dance til you can't dance no mooooooore."</title><content type='html'>Summer is coming to an end.  I have not made a post in over a month.  This just goes to show my blogging life is a lot more interesting when school is in session.  There are far more stories to tell, hi-jinks to share, laughs to be laughed, and so on and so forth.  My summer of '09 has been one of laid-back nothingness; which I must say has been awesome.  I have been a part of two of my best friends weddings and spent time with wonderful friends (woop woop little Eves and Jill), gotten myself a man (and the heavenly hosts rejoice), spent 5 fantastic days with my precious little Georgie (get my flat in NZ ready G!), been thoroughly trainined in all aspects of 2nd grade math and science (just call me Bill Nye), gone white water rafting (everyone should go rafting with Lucy Burrett at some point in there life, it's well worth it), and just plain enjoyed some time off to process my crazy 1st school year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have stated in previous posts, with summer comes the departure of many great television shows; but alas, I have found a great substitute for those summer time TV watchin' blues.  During my college years, I was never home in the summer to enjoy any summertime programming, but this past summer, I was able to enjoy a most spectacular of programs: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So You Think You Can Dance&lt;/span&gt;.  I've always caught the occasional marathon on VH1 or MTV, but I have never gotten to be in it during the actual time.  I have to admit I am still not a totally 100% die-hard in there fan, but I do record it and watch it and enjoy it and have favorites...OK, I like the show a lot.  I was very upset recently when Janette had to go home and I really want her former partner Brandon to win...because they are my favs.  Anyway...I was making this post to share two of my very favorite dances (and one that I just discovered I liked) that the two of them did together.  There have been other dances that are great and awesome, but to ME these are my two (now three) favorites by my two favorites because they are completely different dances and just shows how fantastical they are.  And also makes me think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;can dance, when we all know, that, my friend, is a lie from the pit...and it smells like smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Here is Janette and Brandon's Argentinian Tango.  Mmm.  Yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RTgIcYpnXUw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RTgIcYpnXUw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Here is a little hip-hop dance they did together...it's a new fav of mine as I just stumbled upon it. She's a rocker, he's a hopper who wants to be a rocker...get it? Good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/COrm64re3fA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/COrm64re3fA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And here is my favorite.  Not because it's insanely awesome (though I think it is), but it's just fun.  And Wade Robson is awesome.  They're little thieves and they are just SO GOOD together.  So sad she is gone. :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hyrtZZI_k8o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hyrtZZI_k8o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-744212590003992466?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/744212590003992466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=744212590003992466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/744212590003992466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/744212590003992466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/07/dance-til-you-cant-dance-til-you-cant.html' title='&quot;Dance til you can&apos;t dance til you can&apos;t dance no mooooooore.&quot;'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-8870704262772993117</id><published>2009-06-17T11:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T12:23:39.758-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cockroach, oh cockroach, I hate you, you stink...</title><content type='html'>Living in the South, you become familiar with a very frightening, winged creature, whose very existence I still question.  The 6-legged terror is known as the elusive, disgusting cockroach.  From the Latin word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Barata&lt;/span&gt;, this insect, belonging to the phylum Arthropoda, has been giving me (and countless others) fits for as long as I can remember.  **Props to Wikipedia for the scientific information because we all know I didn't know that crap.**  This picture alone is reason enough to start uncontrollable itching on my part along with a little vomit rising in my throat; you're welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SjkdzO8gzQI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xYBtB2Lnm10/s1600-h/AmericanCockroach1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SjkdzO8gzQI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xYBtB2Lnm10/s320/AmericanCockroach1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348338798501612802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;However, I do not post to tell you of my hatred for the cockroach, but to tell you a tale.  Seriously, I'm becoming more and more nautious the more this picture is on my screen, so I am having to type to take its picture away; they are that sick to me.  GEEEEEW!  Anyway, back to the point.  Everyone who has been a native to the South for more than a year knows that summer is, unfortunately, pique cockroach time.  I'm unsure if the warm weather brings them out of their oak tree santuaries or if it's the smell of BBQ and the sounds  of unbothered fun from unsuspecting humans or what, but for whatever reason, they come out in droves during these hot, hot Alabama months.  Even if you live in a relatively clean and tidy place, you still find them, lurking in the bathroom, or, in the case of my story, buzzing through your friends apartment. *&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;insert shudders from readers and looks of disgust* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, Lucy, Dominique, Joy Tiley, and myself were enjoying a nice little Tuesday evening together sitting around Dom's living room; a little laughter, a little seriousness, a little red wine, a few "that's what she said" comments, the evening was going great.  The events that proceeded the arrival of the roach are still unclear, but I believe that Dom was talking, making a fairly serious point about something, when all of a sudden, as if apparating from some unknown place, a giant FLYING cockroach soars through the living room and lands in Dom's dining room.  There are 3 insects that I have a very hard time keeping my composure around; wasps, bees, and cockroaches (spiders don't count since they are arachnids, but I do also have a hard time keeping my composure around them as well, what up) and apparently I am not the only member of this Fantastic Foursome that has this problem because when we saw the roach, every one of us screamed at the top of our lungs.  You would've thought an armed robber had just burst through the door with the sounds that came out of that place, but no, it was merely my arch-nemisis, la cucaracha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouts and screams of "Get a shoe! Get a shoe! Kill it, kill it!" resounded throughout the room as poor Dom (the only one NOT standing on a piece of furniture) ran to find some sort of footwear to bring this miserable creature to its death.  She hit it over and over and over again on her dining room carpet and even backed it into a corner, where it appeared motionless and lifeless, meeting the death it very much deserved.  I decided to "man up" and spray it with some scented Lysol (there was no bug spray, ok) just to ensure its death.  As I walked over and sprayed it, to all our surprise, the little s.o.b. began to quickly skirt about the place as we all began to scream and yell once more.  According to Dr. Joseph Ayers, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"The cockroach’s speed is due to the design of its legs and body. It has a stable posture with a low center of gravity. The legs are essentially blind thrusters, pistons angled just the right way, so it will inevitably scramble over objects in its path, whether it sees them or not."&lt;/span&gt;  Whatever, Dr. Ayers, they still suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after that, Dom quickly puts the tennis shoe back on top of it, but she can't get to an angle to put enough weight on it without lifting the shoe and releasing the sick little beast, so I stepped up, literally, and ran to stand on top of the shoe, squishing the pest with all my might.  We waited a good minute or more, just to make sure he was dead, and when Dom took the shoe off the winged beast, I SPRINTED and SHRIEKED to the nearest couch because I just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;knew &lt;/span&gt;it wasn't going to be dead.  FALSE: it was.  And I looked like a jack-a.  After that we were left with the dilema of who is going to pick up the vile, shredded pieces of the roach.  Lucy stepped up to do it (notice, Tiley, completely absent from the killing of the roach.  No shame, Tiley, I wish I would've been.  I do believe your shoe was the one that killed it, so there's your contribution).  Lucy went and got about 1 million paper towels and when she went to pick up the remains, she began to gag, but tried to pick it up anyway.  She had a hit and miss, though, and got nothing, gagged some more, threw down the paper towels and said, "I can't do it, I can't do it!"  I believe, yet again, Dom came to the rescue, picked up the thing, disposed of it, releasing us from our cockroach hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was one of those moments in my life that I wish I had a video camera set up because we could've definitely sent that thing into AFV and made the big bucks.  Be that as it may, you will have to settle for my written, slightly dramatic, retelling of the event.  Regardless, it's still pretty hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Sjkj6UzAF8I/AAAAAAAAAF4/hcTbaJYF5Mc/s1600-h/Cockroach_Halloween_Costume.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Sjkj6UzAF8I/AAAAAAAAAF4/hcTbaJYF5Mc/s320/Cockroach_Halloween_Costume.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348345517401184194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't promise that if I saw someone dressed like this at any sort of costumed gathering I would be able to resist hitting them with a shoe over and over again, just out of habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-8870704262772993117?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/8870704262772993117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=8870704262772993117' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8870704262772993117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8870704262772993117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/06/cockroach-oh-cockroach-i-hate-you-you.html' title='Cockroach, oh cockroach, I hate you, you stink...'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SjkdzO8gzQI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xYBtB2Lnm10/s72-c/AmericanCockroach1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-7373612549108222136</id><published>2009-06-08T16:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T17:10:35.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back by popular demand...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So seems as if many people are in desperate need of some Shrop love--AKA Joy and Lauren said to post one of my favorite pictures of myself.  Ok, now I know that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sounds&lt;/span&gt; a bit vain, and it probably is, BUT you will notice, it is not a Glamour Shots '05 type photo.  I think I like it because I look like a small child (which, let's be honest, I am half the time due to spending half of my time with small children).  It is from my first Beach Project in PCB swimming in the pee-infested pool at the Aqua View Dive Inn.  A hole in the wall among castles and kings, if I do say so myself, the Aqua View will forever live in emphamy for it's lack of water pressure, creepy/angry Russian landlord and crying wife, and wild antics that carried on at all hours of the night.  So...without further interruption...I give you...me. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQYSmaqI/AAAAAAAAAEw/eBSPGi8S51Y/s1600-h/pool+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQYSmaqI/AAAAAAAAAEw/eBSPGi8S51Y/s320/pool+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345078147738397346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Now isn't that just the happiest face you've ever seen in your life?  Come on now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I've also decided to include some random photos from random points from random summers.  Could I use the word random anymore?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQkwmo1I/AAAAAAAAAE4/HfDlc-BM92U/s1600-h/Mexico,+Fall+07+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQkwmo1I/AAAAAAAAAE4/HfDlc-BM92U/s320/Mexico,+Fall+07+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345078151085466450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is the cow that ruined my life on my Mexican camping trip and ate all my Animalitos.  That B.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQ_F3DmI/AAAAAAAAAFA/gsLdpiJMxl0/s1600-h/Mexico,+Fall+07+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQ_F3DmI/AAAAAAAAAFA/gsLdpiJMxl0/s320/Mexico,+Fall+07+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345078158153944674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is my precious, sweet, wonderful Mexican amiga Gloria (or Glo) that I miss more and more everyday.  Plus we're awesome because we put Gummy Bears on our heads...Mexican colors, of course.  Te quiero mi amiga!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IRAfz13I/AAAAAAAAAFI/PPWPwaF29Ls/s1600-h/Mexico,+Fall+07+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IRAfz13I/AAAAAAAAAFI/PPWPwaF29Ls/s320/Mexico,+Fall+07+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345078158531221362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Never ever let a group of hungry Americans ravage a Carl's Jr. in Guadalajara, MX because there will be a shortage of hamburgers for at least the next 2 weeks...and some definite plumming problems.  WHAT UUUUP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2LBsh2FWI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wdecTsmbowc/s1600-h/n51203605_30360059_2670.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2LBsh2FWI/AAAAAAAAAFY/wdecTsmbowc/s320/n51203605_30360059_2670.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345081194007893346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A fairly accurate depiction of my wardrobe for most of the summer of '06.  Sponge Bob Fiesta Pants, whaaat?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IRSrUW6I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/aNR3uxLiM50/s1600-h/n51200014_30377682_8000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IRSrUW6I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/aNR3uxLiM50/s320/n51200014_30377682_8000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345078163411327906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What Super Hero roller skating social would be complete with a visit from this lovely gentleman?  Oh, my Johnny, how I love thee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2LB1u2K5I/AAAAAAAAAFg/VbUaqQknUeU/s1600-h/Oh+Mobile-2007+042.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2LB1u2K5I/AAAAAAAAAFg/VbUaqQknUeU/s320/Oh+Mobile-2007+042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345081196478344082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This isn't actually from the summer, but I just wanted to post it in honor of seeing my Georgie this summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2LCMqbfZI/AAAAAAAAAFo/-P-8OQT2Wjo/s1600-h/Cincooooo+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2LCMqbfZI/AAAAAAAAAFo/-P-8OQT2Wjo/s320/Cincooooo+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345081202633833874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So, this picture is a kick-off to this summer...Dom and a Mexican moo-moo is maybe the best thing ever.  True story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/4379503188652383281-7373612549108222136?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/7373612549108222136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=7373612549108222136' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/7373612549108222136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/7373612549108222136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/06/back-by-popular-demand.html' title='Back by popular demand...'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/Si2IQYSmaqI/AAAAAAAAAEw/eBSPGi8S51Y/s72-c/pool+pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-7861939398622219337</id><published>2009-06-02T23:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T23:57:58.159-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"I like it when girls stop by for the summer..." Thank YOU LFO</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ah, L.F.O., or Light Funky Ones as you were formerly known...you're one hit wonder about Cherry Coke, Fun Dip, and Abercrombie &amp;amp; Fitch always takes me back to the glorious days of summer...plus it's a lyrical masterpiece.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So in honor of Joy K. Allen...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer will you....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1..Dye your hair? Negatory.  I have the dubious honor and gift from the Lord above of blonde hair that I don't have to dye/highlight.  It's the one thing I got that I can "brag" about.  Just call me Samson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Get a tan, or burn? If you know me, do you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; need to know the answer to this question?  (Tan, duh, I'm an addict...Intervention, please?) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Go on vacation/trip? Well, I will be traveling to HOTlanta to see one of my PRECIOUS WONDERFUL FABULOUS AMAZING HILARIOUS BEAUTIFUL bestest friends GEOOOORGIE STENT and then going to the MOB some, but no big concrete hardcore plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Go camping? Don't have any plans...me and camping have never really meshed well...something about the bugs...and the cramped tent...and the rocks that generally dig into my spinal chord as I sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Plant flowers? Not unless I plan on planting them outside by my Club MTV pool in my fantastic apartments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Play in the sprinkler? Negative...the art seems to of lost it's magic and luster for me.  I freakin owned that thing though when I was a youngin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Have a job? Technically yes because I am still employed by the state even though I do get the summer off, but don't go saying I don't have a "real" job because, I do, it just has awesome vacation time...that all falls at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.Go on any road trips? A mini one to ATL...Jorgita get the Alanis ready...yeaaaaaah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Do anything with your family? Of course...the sister is up here and I'll be home in the MOB playing with my precious mother and sister and rest of my fam because I won't have crap else to do after AMSTI gets done taking over my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Do anything with your friends? But of coooooourse!  You gotta love a good Wine Down Thursday as well as some classic Club MTV pool time, PLUS there are weddings weddings and more weddings PLUUUUUUUUUUUS I get to hang out with my Georgie PLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS my other two favs Jillian and Eva are having their bachlorette fiesta this weekend which will be AMAZING plus Guster plus so much more this sentence doesn't even make sense anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Spend your money or save it? Considering most of my days will be free...I'm gonna plead the 5th. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Do anything you’ve never done before? Be in someone's wedding who is not related to me annnnnnnnd go to the ATL aquarium with G-Money...I'm livin large, I know, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Who will you spend the most time with?My fantastic and hysterical friends, my hilarious family, and my glorious DVR...I told you...re-la-tion-ship.  We had the DTR...it was everything I ever hoped for and more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Favorite food on the bbq: Burgers and hot dogs...but mostly burgers...mmmm, delightful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Favorite summer drink: Margs (but they're really great anytime of year, let's be real) and, um, Diet Coke? I'm not much of a "seasonal" drinker...but Icees are amazing, Dom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. What do you look forward to when summer comes? SLEEPING!  And the sun staying out to play later, and dusk, OOOH, and playing in the water. And eating outside.  And laying out.  And wearing dresses.  And I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Would you rather it be winter?  Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllll to the naw.  You can't eat dinner outside in the winter, which is one of my favorite things to do (yeaaah Dom)&lt;span style="font-size: 180%; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. How many times will you hit the beach? I mean I hope at least once (to see my sweet Lesley), but who knows...times like these when I miss the Gulf Coast.  Birmingham=mountainous hills=not the flat white sandy beaches of the coastal region.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Do you go camping? Been there, done that, didn't buy the t-shirt because it wasn't that awesome....but it was in Mexico...and I did sleep on top of a giant rock...and I did have to listen to Johnny and Matt playing stick ball with dirt rocks and Jill cheer them on the homerun victory.  That part was hilarious, the being sick to my stomach/sleep deprived/having all my animalitos (animal crackers) taken out of my back pack by a wild cow and eaten...not so awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. Flip flops or shoes? Flippy floppies...Havaianas if you pleeeeeeease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. River or pool? Um, don't really do open bodies of water, but I'm all about LOOKING at them and SITTING by them, but I love a pool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. Shorts or dresses? No me gusta shorts, but te quiero a cutsie dress! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. Favorite summer treats? Hawaiian shave ice and Pop-Ices and BEING ABLE TO SLEEP!  What uuup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. Favorite summer memories? Oh me, oh my... when I was little playing flashlight tag way late at night or any other late night rendevous we may of had as children, spending all day at the swim club and getting the "white trash ballpark sunburn" under my eyes, sitting on my grandmothers patio eating pickles and pop-ices and shelling peas, living in the room with a tiolet that didn't flush...ever...or have water pressure higher than that of an eyedropper in PCB at Project my first summer, working at the Holiday Inn and dressing up like Sponge Bob my 2nd summer, taking every sort of mode of transportation (walking, hitching, bus, taxi) to get to a mall in Guadalajara, Guadalajara as a whole, pretty much anything involving summer is my favorite...I can't deny it.&lt;span style="font-size: 180%; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&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/4379503188652383281-7861939398622219337?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/7861939398622219337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=7861939398622219337' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/7861939398622219337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/7861939398622219337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-like-it-when-girls-stop-by-for-summer.html' title='&quot;I like it when girls stop by for the summer...&quot; Thank YOU LFO'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-3556547571975915835</id><published>2009-05-23T21:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T22:05:07.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where, oh where, have my TV shows gone?</title><content type='html'>May is always a good month.  Summer comes, the weather is changing into prime pool time weather, the sun sets later giving us ample daytime playtime, and the best thing of all, I get some time off work.  Some have told me teachers don't live in the real world since we get a "2 month break," but let me assure ALL of you that teachers need summer otherwise the amount of teacher/student battery cases as well as the numbers in the psych ward would rise dramatically.  However, with May also comes a sad, sad time: season finale time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I watch TV.  Yes, I watch a lot of TV.  Some might even say I have a "relationship" with my television.  So what if I have a show (sometimes 2) each night that are scheduled to record on my DVR?  Don't hate, appreciate.  This past year did not disappoint in the television department.  From &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;24 &lt;/span&gt;to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;American Idol &lt;/span&gt;to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Office &lt;/span&gt;to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How I Met Your Mother&lt;/span&gt;, I have been entertained all spring long.  So many questions are left unanswered.  How is Jack Bauer going to come out of this biohazard sickness alive?  When are Jim and Pam going to tie the knot? Before or after they have their little Jam baby (Jim + Pam, what up)?  Who &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;IS &lt;/span&gt;Ted Mosby's (*wink* architect) wife and WHEN will we meet her? And most importantly, how many pieces of hate mail are the producers from American Idol going to get from queens, hags, and middle aged women across the country due to Adam Lambert's "shocking" loss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could probably talk forever about my opinion on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AI &lt;/span&gt;this season.  One thing is for sure, I wanted sweet little Allison to win or that precious Danny Gokey.  They were both amazing.  COME ON!  Maybe I'm biast because they both have raspy voices and give hope to vocal nodgal suffers everywhere, but I just love them.  Don't get me wrong, Adam Lambert has talent, but he belongs on Broadway, and I believe &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; would know.  I mean, after all, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; do choir tour.  Em-bar-ass-ing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SPEAKING of choir tour, I could not be more excited about Fox's new show coming on in the Fall, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Glee&lt;/span&gt;.  There was a special sneak preview after &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Idol&lt;/span&gt; on Tuesday, and it was hilarious, and also complete with numbers from several of my favorite musicals.  Seriously, who is going to pay for my all access pass to Broadway?  I'm going to need that to happen, A-SAP.  You can make donations and checks payable to Katie Shropshire.  All donations will be tax deductible.  Maybe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-3556547571975915835?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/3556547571975915835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=3556547571975915835' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/3556547571975915835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/3556547571975915835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/05/where-oh-where-have-my-tv-shows-gone.html' title='Where, oh where, have my TV shows gone?'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-7464098898844813465</id><published>2009-05-23T21:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T21:46:34.275-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anastas-yeaaaaah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/ShiwElmwW7I/AAAAAAAAAEg/gBDXq1KWwW0/s1600-h/anastasia+and+dimitri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/ShiwElmwW7I/AAAAAAAAAEg/gBDXq1KWwW0/s320/anastasia+and+dimitri.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339210951108352946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, I have not posted on this thing in forever.  That is because school was ending, life was chaotic, and I got lazy; but school is now over, it is summer, and I felt it was high time to make a post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last day with my kids was on Thursday of this week.  I felt it was a little bitter sweet as this has been such a crazy, hectic year of teaching; I say that as if I have anything to actually compare it to, but you get the point.  The kids did lots of fun activities all week to keep themselves entertained while Miss Shrop got her clean on, if you will.  They colored, they talked (a lot), and most importantly watched many fantastic and awesome children's movies, one of which would be one of my all time favorites: 20th century Fox's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anastasia&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since the Explorium in Mobile had an exhibit on the Romanov family, I have been fascinated by the story of Anastasia.  I know you're all surprised; me, be infatuated by a sad, traumatic event in world history? Get out! (Enter my other weird fascination with WWII/Holocaust)  Anyway, so I love the movie &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anastasia&lt;/span&gt;.  My family used to jam out to the soundtrack in the minivan all the time as well as watch the movie loads and loads of times.  Now mind you, I was in about 7th or 8th grade when this movie came out, so honestly, I really have no actual excuse to of ever liked it, but it is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides the exciting, overexaggerated storyline, the phenomenal musical scores, the flirty banter between the cinematic epic's headliners, there is one part I love maybe the most, and that would be Dimitri.  Dimitri is the very much animated, very much not real leading man of the film.  Now I can't tell you if it's the looks, that fact that he's a little mischevous but turns from his "sinful" ways, or that John Cusack is his voice, but for whatever reason, he is, to quote the great Randy Jackson "for me, for you" the hottest animated male ever.  Now, I know I might have some argument from some saying other more "popular" animated characters are more attractive, say Eric from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Little Mermaid&lt;/span&gt; or Moses from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;e Prince of Egypt &lt;/span&gt;(maybe that's just Joy Tiley and Lucy) and so on, but I stick to my guns on this one.  Then again, I might have others who would argue, "Uh, hey, it's a cartoon, how can someone be hott?  You're weird."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might be judging me right now, and that's ok, I fear no judgement on this matter; but deep down inside, you know there is some animated male that you find more attractive than others and, if given the chance, you'd definitely break out into random song with them any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I mean, look at that face.  What's not to love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/ShizGTvBx0I/AAAAAAAAAEo/S8fi8Kv9T5U/s1600-h/dimitri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 251px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/ShizGTvBx0I/AAAAAAAAAEo/S8fi8Kv9T5U/s320/dimitri.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339214279205832514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-7464098898844813465?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/7464098898844813465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=7464098898844813465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/7464098898844813465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/7464098898844813465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/05/anastas-yeaaaaah.html' title='Anastas-yeaaaaah'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/ShiwElmwW7I/AAAAAAAAAEg/gBDXq1KWwW0/s72-c/anastasia+and+dimitri.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-9167067103811770156</id><published>2009-04-18T16:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T17:19:38.112-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Barber Shop of Horrors</title><content type='html'>Since the arrival of Spring, the kids in my class have gone bananas.  B-A-N-A-N-A-S.  I'm not entirely sure if it's the weather, or the fact that we have T minus 24 days of school and counting, or what, but they have been nuts.  They've all got the crazy eye.  Spring fever.  Whatever you want to call it.  And apparently, lucky for me, everyone tells me this is how it is until the end. of. the. YEAR.  Eva and I were discussing it and we decided we don't think we'll be able to make it that long.  I mean, I may very well end up in a home, or an institution, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the other day at school, we had Career Day.  For 2 hours, my kids, along with all the other kids in school, went to visit various stations to check out different careers.  First, we went to see a Karate instructor demonstration, which they loved.  Then, we went to listen to, and I mean this when I say it, SERIOUSLY, the most depressing clown ever.  First of all, I hate clowns.  Second of all, she was so sad and boring.  She told the kids that, "Being a clown is only 5% fun and 95% hard work."  Does she not know 1st graders do not understand percentages?  I'm an adult and I barely get them.  And what a depressing thing to tell 6 and 7 yeard olds anyway!  All they cared about was the little dog she had doing tricks, and they barely saw that lovely performance.  Then we went to see the firemen and fire truck and lastly we went to see a police officer.   During his speech, SEVERAL students wanted to share about how their mother/father/uncle/aunt/neighbor/step-cousin/god sister/whoever was currently or has previously been in jail.  Delightful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the afternoon was spent making The Gallon Man.  We've been learning measurement so I decided we'd make a Gallon Man.  I'd explain it to you, but you don't care, and plus I don't want to do it, but just know that it involves colors, glue, and scissors.  So we are working, quite nicely I might say, and I'm walking them step-by-step through every little thing because that's just what you have to do, when one of the girls in my room comes up and says she "found big pieces of hair in the trash."  She then escorts me to the trash can where I do, in fact, see with my own eyes said pieces of hair.  I ask the room who cut their hair and immediately an array of choruses of "Not me!" "I don't know, but I didn't do it!" and "I ain't even got hair, Miss Shrop!" broke out throughout the room.  I kind of write it off, figuring I'll just get to the bottom of this hairy situation later, when not 5 minutes passes and the same student actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;brings &lt;/span&gt;me another chunk of hair.  I detest hair that is not attached to the head/body/wherever it is supposed to be; it grosses me out. Two more times this very same thing happened when finally, I'd had it.  I examined the hair color closely, and at one point was pretty convinced that one of them had actually cut the under part of my hair because it was somewhat the same color, but I soon lay that theory to rest.  I then proceeded to walk around the room with a small piece of the hair and held it up to any child's head that even remotely had the same color hair.  I finally looked at the child who kept bringing me the hair to tell her I don't who this could belong to, when I stop.  I look.  I stare.  I gasp.  On either side of this poor child's long light brown locks are two, rather large, chunks of missing hair.  The conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Oh my goodness, honey, what is this?" (as I rake my hands through either side of her hair, pulling out even more pieces of hair)&lt;br /&gt;Child:  "What?" (genuinely very VERY confused)&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Sweetie, this is YOUR hair.  Did you cut your hair?"&lt;br /&gt;Child:  "My hair?  No!  I promise!"&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Well, baby, it's yours.  I don't know how it happened, but it's your hair."&lt;br /&gt;Child:  &lt;kinda&gt; "Aww, man!  Now I'm gonna have two big chunks of hair missing on my head!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mystery of how or why this happened is still unsolved.  There are several theories, but no concrete evidence for them.  One includes the girl next to said girl apparently pushed her hair out of her face for her while she had scissors in her hand and this possibly caused the locks to seperate, or the child did the same thing herself and accidently cut it.  Regardless, I did have to apologize profusely to the child's mother and assured her all students will be closley watched while using scissors.  At least hers, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I had a FANTASTIC cherry on top of my mediocre week this Friday.  Seems as if yours truly has won tickets to the Schaeffer Eye Center Crawfish Boil the first weekend in May.  At this grand event I will get to see the lovely Jason Mraz and perhaps Snoop Dogg.  I've even been entered into a drawing now to possibly MEET Jason Mraz.  That would make my 2009, I tell ya.  The great thing is, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; win anything!  I found out the creeperton DJ on the radio station, who kept referring to me as a hottie even though he's never seen me and it was 7 in the morning, lives in my apartment complex and he told me to "look for him around."  Sure thing, boss.  I'll be watching close for your &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;voice&lt;/span&gt; since I know what you look like and all.  Creeeeep-yyyyyy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-9167067103811770156?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/9167067103811770156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=9167067103811770156' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/9167067103811770156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/9167067103811770156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-barber-shop-of-horrors.html' title='Little Barber Shop of Horrors'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-6069220039451917430</id><published>2009-03-29T12:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T13:17:34.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Break or Bust</title><content type='html'>You might be asking yourself, "What? Katie Shropshire exists? I thought she was just some phantom blogger who only occasionally will grace us with some classroom tale," but I am here today to tell not of a classroom tale, but to tell of my Spring Break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring Break should be a magical time.  A time of rest, relaxation, doing the things you love that are fun.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Should &lt;/span&gt;be.  I will say that I did have a most enjoyable Spring Break.  I did not do much, which was awesome, and I got to see some friends I haven't seen in forever, ate at Butches and Mellow, and even venture to Mobile's very own Crescent Theater.  If you don't know what it is, go out and support it, at least once.  It's this little theater on LoDa (that's Lower Dauphin Street for those who did not sport the bumper sticker on their car in high school or weren't privy to taking a Mobile History Class where every Thursday we took a "field trip" to LoDa and got to get Krispy Kreme doughnuts on the way home.  Ah, that life) that plays small independent films.  The guy who owns it really loves movies.  And I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really loves movies&lt;/span&gt;.  He tried to let us borrow his Swedish vampire movie DVD and said "Come back in a couple of days and I'll let you guys borrow it! It's great!"  Maybe next time, Movie Guy; but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past couple of months I have been dying to do 3 things:  1-Go to the Audobon Aquarium of the Americas. 2-Go to the Audobon Zoo. 3-Eat some delish beignets.  Where's the one place that houses all 3 of these exciting events?  Why none other than the soup bowl city itself, our neighbor to the west, the place that stole Mardi Gras and "did it right," a little place I like to call New Orleans, or NOLA.  My family has always loved to do these three things, so it came as no surprise to me that my sister Amber immediately was on board with hitting up these three lovely hot spots with me.  We decided that the last Saturday of my Spring Break we would make the journey over to NOLA.  We were so excited.  Giant Sharks, Jelly Fish, Arangatuns, fabulous French doughnuts, what more could  two you girls ask for?  Let me tell you friends, nothing, that's what.  And we didn't get any of those things.  Allow me to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say we didn't get any of those is a bit dramatic.  As I explain the story, let's see if you can figure out which of those things we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; get.  Did I just go 1st grade on you guys? My bad.  We arose at 7:45 am that Saturday morning to begin our treck to New Orleans.  Just a couple of modern day explorers; a regular Lewis and Clarke tale, if you will (and you will).  We got ready, said bye to my mother and were off on our adventure by 8:45.  We even stopped to get some Chick-Fil-A for breakfast which everyone knows is my fav.  The day was off to a great start...until we hit traffic.  One of the biggest questions I have had recently is the existence of highway construction.  What purpose does it serve but to make all impatient drivers angry, irrate, and irritated.  It never ever seems to get done.  Point in case--just HOW LONG has Montgomery been trying to improve their I-65/85 junction?  TOO LONG, I tell you.  But anyway, yes, we hit traffic.  On I-10.  30 minutes away from our destination.  We sat.  We waited.  We watched as people continued to be ignorant of the concept of merging.  We watched a woman almost get rammed in the arse of her car because she refused to move.  She was just SITTING THERE.  Why, we are still not sure, but this left us with a good 15 minutes of banter back and forth on why that woman sucks so much.  But we didn't let this get us down.  We cranked up the tunes even louder and just sang our little hearts out.  I mean, don't tell us not to live...lifes candy and the suns a ball of butter, DON'T bring around the clouds to rain on OUR parade...woooah.  But anyway, this little traffic jam, got more cars than a beach got sand, but us an hour pack in our regularly scheduled plan, but again, we were determined to persevre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We finally made it to New Orleans.  Amber and I were admiring all the rubble and mess that still exists from the hurricane, giving our less than 2 cents opinion on what the government should do to clean it up and rid that area of infection, disease, rats, and roaches, when we realized we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;might&lt;/span&gt; have missed our exit.  This was after our father's warning on how not to get lost, pay attention, and we miss our exit.  After several exits and enterances and explaining to Amber AGAIN that "Exit Only" does not mean you can't get back on the exit, we finally made it to the Aquarium.  This little detour added an extra 30 minutes on to our all ready late arrival.  No matter.  We were there.  We got to the Aquarium, purchased our "Audobon Experience" passes (you get into the zoo, aquarium, IMAX, and the insecturarium for the low price of $32.95) and hit the trail on our wildlife adventure.  We made our way through the aquarium, only to remember that it is not actually as good as we remembered.  There were too many people everywhere, especially small children, and we kept feeling like we had to get out of the way for them to see, but then were torn because we also paid good money to see the penguins and the otters too.  There was also this giant lady in a wheel chair who kept blocking all the sea horse tanks.  It's like she was reading our minds and thought "This is the tank you want to go see? Well, I'm going to park my giant motorized Rascal infront of it for 5-10 minutes until you become frustrated and walk off at which time I will follow, and beat you, to your next location."  So the aquarium was not so awesome.  No matter.  On to bigger and better things.  Beignets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the Cafe Du Monde in the Riverwalk because we didn't want to get caught up in the Jackson Square hullabuloo.  As responsible and well raised children, we know it's important to eat a well balanced meal before eating deserts, so we went to grab a bite in the food court.  Let it be said, the food in the food court sucks.  Gross chicken, gross french fries, gross everything, but we ate it anyway.  I even saved plenty of room for the light and fluffy scrumtrilescent treat.  We make our way to the cafe, stand in line, discuss how excited we are to eat beignets, how we need to get an order to bring home to Mom, when our dreams come crashing and burning before our very eyes.  A sign that read "Cash Only.  No checks or cards." was posted right at the ordering end of the counter.  I thought this must be a mistake; it must be outdated, but as I looked around I realized the signs were EVERYWHERE.  Ok, not everywhere, but there was one more posted at the cash register.  Well, we didn't have any cash and didn't see a nearby ATM, so we sadly stepped out of line.  We quickly came to the conclusion that we would just walk down to Jackson Square, that certainly that location would accept debit cards.  After all, this is 2009, not 1909.  Well, we were wrong.  They didn't.  Not to mention the line at the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;original&lt;/span&gt; Cafe Du Monde was OUT OF CONTROL.  Sadly and slowly, we tredged back to our car.  It was now 4:00.  Amber had an epiphone. Or actually a realization.  The zoo closes at 5.  We thought it couldn't be true.  She also remembered, after telling me she DID KNOW, that she actually did NOT know how to get to the zoo from the aquarium.  We called the Mom who had to navigate us as we wandered up and down Canal, finally making the several turnoffs we need to find and made it to the zoo...at 4:45.  There were tons of people around so we though, maybe we were wrong, maybe the zoo DOESN'T close at 5.  WRONG.  It does. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got in the car and made the trip back home.  Amber remarked that she wanted to take her zoo ticket and "pee all on it then throw it out the window because that's what I did with my money."  I decided since I did not get a beignet that I would, in fact, need ice cream.  We stopped at Dairy Queen in some po-dunk town.  We also noticed a giant white castle that SOMEONE had built to live in along the coastline.  This provided us with a good 20 minutes of back and forth jokes in regards to the matter, that included "Just take a left at the Castle and you'll be there.  If you pass the Castle, you've gone too far."  We were able to laugh off the situation because that's what Amber and I do.  Had it been anyone else, they might have cried or yelled for hours, but we just laughed, ate a Blizzard, tried not to the laugh at the drive-thru worker with the severe r-control problem, and throw our Blizzards at the large group of antique car owners who decided to have a car show in the parking lot.  All in all, it was a crappy trip, but at least it provided me with a good story, and now took away 20 minutes of your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-6069220039451917430?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/6069220039451917430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=6069220039451917430' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/6069220039451917430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/6069220039451917430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/03/spring-break-or-bust.html' title='Spring Break or Bust'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-2300098384304809893</id><published>2009-02-22T11:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T11:46:38.009-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Picasso?  Not so much.</title><content type='html'>Let's go ahead and write it down that the month of February, as far as school has been concerned, has been the exact OPPOSITE of awesome.  This week, especially Friday definitely added to the non-awesome of it all.  Allow me to elaborate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday afternoon my kids go to art.  They are a pretty well behaved group of kids, outside of the fact that they can't ever, and I mean EVER close their mouths for 5 seconds and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;think &lt;/span&gt;before they act.  I really think there is something in about 8-10 of their genetic make up that makes them unable to hear practical and informational bits of advice from those older.  It is literally as if they get inside the head of the person giving directions (mostly me) and hear me think "I sure HOPE no one does THIS," and they do the very thing I do not want done.  It's really quite amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I go to pick up my kids from art, and I hear a child being fussed at.  I definitely hear the phrases, "Dry it up," and "I don't want to hear it," so I automatically know said kid is crying.  This said kid (we will call him Boy) weeps uncontrollably ev-er-y-time he gets in trouble.  He is one of the tallest kids in the class, yet is the most sensitive.  He tattles and disobeys and is yet so SHOCKED when he has to move his clothespin (the consequence for not making "smart choices."  Earlier that day, Boy had to move his clothespin for blatantly farting on the carpet and rolling around laughing about it during center time.  He thought it was hilarious, but soon starting crying when he got in trouble.  Unbelievable.  But back to art--so I hear Boy getting in trouble, so I know I'm in for tons of fun when I pick him up.  When the door the art room opens, Boy's face is the first face I see...and do you want to know what I saw?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PAINT.  ALL.  ON.  HIS.  FACE.  Paint!  Boy had apparently taken his thumb and painted it while the teacher wasn't looking then proceeded to wipe the paint all on his cheeks.  AND THEN, when he was repremanded, in standard fashion, begin to cry.  I saw him and immediately pointed to hallway for him to go out there and said one word to him:  "RED."  This means he moves his pin to red which is pretty much the worst.  This word sent him into a frenzy of tears and wailing and knashing of teeth.  Ok, maybe there was no knashing, but there were tears and wailing.  I mean, he carried on all the way back to our classroom.  You would've thought I was pinching him.  I wasn't going to let him in my room until he calmed down, and he never did.  I tried to talk calmly with him but he just kept on and kept on, so I told him we were all going to have snack; he could join us whenever.  He finally went to the bathroom and washed his face and came in to sit down.  I have absolutely no sympathy for Boy.  He drives me nuts.  He told me he was now not going to get any birthday presents or a party because he had a red day.  Most of you might feel bad and then just move his pin back; well not me.  The truth is, he'll get whatever he wants and there is no way I am being manipulated into thinking otherwise.  Call me mean, call me insensitive.  I just refused to have one pulled over on me by a young William Wallace (you know, the paint, on the face...not a good reference). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am hoping the month will get better.  This Friday kicks of the Spring 2009 concert tour.  We'll be heading to ATL to see Ben Folds at the Tabernacle.  The rest of the tour consists of these other fantastic acts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 11-Flight of the Conchords&lt;br /&gt;April 20-Dave Matthews Band&lt;br /&gt;April 27-Ray LaMontagne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With possibly the Avvett Brothers, Ben Kweller, and various other artists sprinkled here and there.  It's gonna be amaaaaaaaazing.  Expect pictures and full reports.  Until then...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-2300098384304809893?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/2300098384304809893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=2300098384304809893' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2300098384304809893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2300098384304809893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/02/picasso-not-so-much.html' title='Picasso?  Not so much.'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-2822378288923154902</id><published>2009-02-13T19:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T19:58:56.891-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreads, Phantoms, Drums, what's not to love?</title><content type='html'>Season 8 of American Idol has &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; after weeks of auditions, gotten underway.  I am excited, yet also, a little skeptical of this years contestants.  As always in the beginning of a season, I am wary that any of the contestants will be as good as ones I've like prior.  I gotta tell you though, for me, season 7 had to be one of my favorites.  I'm not entirely sure if it's because I watched it every single week 2 times a week while helping Shane and LaJuan take care of the girls or what, but I just loved it.  With all the stopping and starting of songs (thank you Brook (or is it Brooke?) White), forgetting lyrics not just once but TWICE--in the same night (Jason Castro, my love), technical "foreigners" being in the top running for THE American Idol (Carlie...Michael Johns...always a pleasure, but I mean, where's the accent, come on?), putting hard rock twists on 80's and early 90's classics (Oh David Cook), the excessive amount of guy-liner (again, David Cook), or bringing middle-aged women to tears with soft-pleasing tones (The other David), it was just an all around great season.  I did like others in the past, buuuut not like last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in standard fashion, I have selected a few video clips to commemorate favorite Idol performances.  Relax...and enjoy.   Shropshire, out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I don't care WHAT Simon says...this stuff is gold.  But Lord Andrew is a freak of the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dVhRlsw4-HE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dVhRlsw4-HE&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this song anyway and it always makes me cry, but I just love this little dread head freak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/N5OJZD08m_U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/N5OJZD08m_U&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, another all time favorite of mine.  PLUS, he's just so awkward.  And high.  It's hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WVxnMmfKNCQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WVxnMmfKNCQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do love a piano...and it IS Brooke...with an e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/THMArQrHLX4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/THMArQrHLX4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, this one is really just for the sheer fact that Jason Castro sang like all my favorite songs...GRANTED he didn't ACTUALLY know he was singing about, but come on, Grisabella the Glamour Cat...that hits right to the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Fs3-ShhhPVI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Fs3-ShhhPVI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, kid wasn't my fav, but there's no doubt he can saaaaaaang.  I mean, saaaaaaaaaaaang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tqknGd3Atko&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tqknGd3Atko&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is personally my favorite re-make of Mr. Cook, so, here goes...if though technically somone else did the re-make first, so it's really a re-make OF a re-make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UHo5I811n0k&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UHo5I811n0k&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Annnnnnnnnd to top it off with one of my all time favs just because Blake Lewis is so freakin random...I don't think he's givin love a bad name.  And they say David Cook was the pioneer of "original" versions.  Ok, maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iJ92IL-8_sc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iJ92IL-8_sc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-2822378288923154902?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/2822378288923154902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=2822378288923154902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2822378288923154902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2822378288923154902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/02/dreads-phantoms-drums-whats-not-love.html' title='Dreads, Phantoms, Drums, what&apos;s not to love?'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-2409951831183307205</id><published>2009-02-12T17:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T18:14:24.798-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Unpack your Magic Number 3 in the Great American Melting Pot</title><content type='html'>Does this title confuse you?  If you were a fan of School House Rock, then you might actually not be confused.  That sentence alone leaves room for confusion, but I digress.  ANYWHO, I have always owed the bulk of my knowledge of anything to School House Rock.  Those who know me more than likely can attest to the fact that I am auditory learner...frighteningly auditory.  You put anything to a song, and I can learn it.  I'm not bragging, do not be fooled, because I might not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt; or be able to "explain" the information I "retained", but so help me I can sing it to you.  My sister Amber and brother Sheldon (sorry Leigh, odd one out) are the same.  I distinctly remember listening to this tape on the times tables &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; morning on the way to school in elementary school so that Amber could learn them, and I was probably the only 1st grader who could tell you their 7 times tables, but not have a clue what I was talking about.  To the same effect, I was the only kid in kindergarten who knew their 50 states (well in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my &lt;/span&gt;class anyway) because my brother and sisters learned a "50 Nifty United States" song for chorus and they would practice it at home, so I just picked it up.  That little ditty has helped me out a number of times, I tell ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, we've been talking about adjectives at school, so I decided to go raid the movie drawer at school and I stumbled upon &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Best of School House Rock!&lt;/span&gt; and I was so excited because not only did it have the song "Unpack Your Adjectives" (which is aplicable to what we are learning right now) but pretty much every other SHR song that I love.  And to make it better, my kids loved it.  I told them that I learned most everything I know from School House Rock, so they said they concluded they don't actually have to listen to me anymore, and are now convinced the only reason I was able to become a teacher is because I listened to School House Rock.  I tried to explain it to them, but it just got too hard, so I quit and just pressed play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I decided to take you back to the old school (literally) and share with you some of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; favorite SHR songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In the area of Grammar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's NOT to love about this song?  I mean, ok the graphics are poor, but come on, this is an amazing song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xe-agpoOqww&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xe-agpoOqww&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any person you can know, any place that you can go, and anything that you can show...oh those crazy nouns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZOoGJmZdfMc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZOoGJmZdfMc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lolly, Lolly, Lolly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w8kD1A7wtDo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w8kD1A7wtDo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, those  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and but&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt;, they really DO get you pretty far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mkO87mkgcNo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mkO87mkgcNo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;All I know about the government and how our country came to be, I owe to these next few songs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preamble...helped me out tremendously in 5th grade when I had to memorize it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q_TXJRZ4CFc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q_TXJRZ4CFc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW I know how a Bill becomes a law...and whenever I'm in doubt, I always refer back to this song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mEJL2Uuv-oQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mEJL2Uuv-oQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really just did this one for Dominique...because she loves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V-z1STTRHsk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V-z1STTRHsk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The true bane of my existence...mathematics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to my kids, this was a "sweet one."  So weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/11N-BD1aBo0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/11N-BD1aBo0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, dang, I'm adult and this one helped me out...interest...what??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kfcjMC26va4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kfcjMC26va4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could've gone on forever, but I felt like I've shared enough.  What are your favs?  OR maybe you're secretly judging me for being a 24 year old adult posting School House Rock...that's cool...keep that to yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-2409951831183307205?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/2409951831183307205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=2409951831183307205' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2409951831183307205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2409951831183307205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/02/unpack-your-magic-number-3-in-great.html' title='Unpack your Magic Number 3 in the Great American Melting Pot'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-1408643749997341042</id><published>2009-02-01T11:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T11:50:04.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I guess Bill Cosby WAS right</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Kids really do say the darnedest things.  My 1st graders are proof of that.  Since returning from Christmas, I have overheard/been a part of some interesting conversations.  I've waited so long to post them now that I don't remember half of them, but I'll try to remember them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Teaching 1st grade has caused me to almost literally hate the sound of my own name.  All day long all I ever hear is "Miss Shrop can I..."  "Miss Shrop she just..."  "Miss Shrop when are we..." "Miss Shrop where is..."  "Miss Shrop.  Miss SHROP.  MISS SHROP!"  One day I finally just snapped.  It was the end of the day and we were all on the carpet after just packing up and waiting for the bell to ring and, as always, 3-4 people were calling my name at one time.  Finally I just said, "Oh guys, I am REALLY beginning to HATE the sound of my own name.  Can you please just stop saying it for 1 second?!"  About 5 seconds pass by before one smart A kid goes..."So...what do you want us to call you then...you know...if you don't like the sound of YOUR name."  Un-be-lievable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This past week at the end of the day when all my kids were packed up and sitting on the carpet hanging out, I was back at my table working with one of them, I overheard something truly hilarious.  All my car riders and some of my bus kids had left so I have about 9-10 kids left in my room.  One of them just went to change for her dance class at school and comes back to join the rest of her friends.  All of the kids are commenting on the bright orange slightly over sized t-shirt she is wearing and intently inquiring where she got it from.  For those who don't know, 1st graders are prone to a sad, yet sickening disease.  It's called over exaggerationitis.  The treatment for this disease is unknown, though some of believed a little bit of truth serum might do them a world of good.  Anywho, I overhear her tell her friends something a long the lines of she got the t-shirt from her grandfather/uncle and he was wearing it when he died.  The truth of that story is she may or may not have received it from one them and they may have happened to die, but nothing about that shirt would ever fit a grown adult.  Well, this lovely bright spot in conversation kind of brought all the kids to a quiet awkwardness, when all of a sudden I hear one of my kids kinda laugh and go "Wah waaaaaah," as if to indicate the other student had clearly brought the mood down.  This had me laughing for about 5 minutes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My kids frequently ask me at lunch if I get very tired of eating the same thing every day because they know that they sure would.  They've even offered to share their school lunch with me.  I, however, have to pass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I still get asked, quite often, by my kids when am I gonna get married and a few of them are in the works of devising a plan on "how to get Miss Shrop a man."  Awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I'm sure there is more I could add to this list, but I just wanted to make a post/share these things with you because it's been a while.  Hope you all have a fantastic start to the month of February.&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/4379503188652383281-1408643749997341042?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/1408643749997341042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=1408643749997341042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/1408643749997341042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/1408643749997341042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-guess-bill-cosby-was-right.html' title='I guess Bill Cosby WAS right'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-3793370649501363733</id><published>2009-01-17T13:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T14:01:48.065-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Broadway + Doogie = Golden</title><content type='html'>It has to be said that SNL's skits can be up and down like the tides in terms of humor.  I know others &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;might&lt;/span&gt; not agree with that statement, but that's how I feel.  Well, this past week Neil Patrick Harris, AKA Barney from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How I Met Your Mother&lt;/span&gt;, hosted the show.  I have to say it was pretty funny.  Two skits in particular struck my fancy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, everyone who knows me knows I pretty much love musicals.  It's a surprising thing to find out about me, but I love them.  I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cats&lt;/span&gt; was my favorite CD when I was 5 (and I never saw the show until I was 16, that's what is even sadder), I loved &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rent&lt;/span&gt; way before I saw it live or it was made into a movie, Dominique and I experienced a Christmas miracle by getting seat upgrades when we saw &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Avenue Q&lt;/span&gt; which was great, I mean I could go on.  Pretty much any chance to see a musical, that is good, I am pretty much going to take.   MOST people want to go to New York to shop, see the sights; I just want to go to see a show ON Broadway. (Side note, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wicked &lt;/span&gt;is coming to the BJCC in April and I could NOT be more excited...another great soundtrack. Seriously, I'll stop.)  Anywho, with the recent economic crisis, shows are closing down all over Broadway.  As a result, this skit was made.  I feel there is no need to explain.  Hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/497236ead22f1614/4741e3c5156499a7/77b20583/-cpid/fed5bc5aed207c16" id="W4727a250e66f9723497236ead22f1614" width="384" height="283"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/497236ead22f1614/4741e3c5156499a7/77b20583/-cpid/fed5bc5aed207c16"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="all"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This second skit marks the uprise of SNL.  Digital Shorts were probably the best thing SNL ever thought to do.  They're genius.  And the fact that NPH isn't afraid to make fun of the fact that he played a teen doctor named Doogie is completely awesome to me.  Hope you enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/497238e5c96d215b/4741e3c5156499a7/c98d387c/-cpid/e35dde9b3945c20" id="W4727a250e66f9723497238e5c96d215b" width="384" height="283"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/497238e5c96d215b/4741e3c5156499a7/c98d387c/-cpid/e35dde9b3945c20"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="all"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-3793370649501363733?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/3793370649501363733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=3793370649501363733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/3793370649501363733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/3793370649501363733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/01/broadway-doogie-golden.html' title='Broadway + Doogie = Golden'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-571052545104634917</id><published>2009-01-15T17:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T17:51:52.226-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back packs.  Busses.  BANNED.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SW_JG-sY0nI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3DxA99aXlfc/s1600-h/ladybugbackpack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SW_JG-sY0nI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3DxA99aXlfc/s320/ladybugbackpack.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291669208929194610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, so this was too good (to me anyway) NOT to share.  So today was a pretty good day in my class.  I exercised patience and self-control and my kids tried their best not to grate on my nerves.  Well, during snack today, I was reading &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Junie B., First Grader:  Cheater Pants&lt;/span&gt;.  Great books, BTDubb, however, disclaimer, if Junie B. were in my class, that girl might have a black eye, but kids LOVE it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWHO, you all remember "Dylan," the little girl who spelled we W-i-i?  (Which, by the way, she got one for Christmas and every thing she's written about since then has been about the Wii...which I can kind of appreciate)  Well, she got called to the office, and, because it was her, I knew chances were she was probably in trouble.  Most of the time my kids go to the office for misbehaving on the bus and they usually get suspended from the bus for 1 day WHICH usually means they don't show up that day...I won't lie and say I don't love it.  Well, she left and then when she came back I asked her what they wanted and this is what she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt; So, what'd they want in the office?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Dylan": &lt;/span&gt; Oh, I was in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  Oh, well, what'd you do? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Dylan":  &lt;/span&gt;Oh, we can't sit together anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:  &lt;/span&gt;Who?  What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Dylan":&lt;/span&gt;  My sister and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;OH! On the bus?  Did y'all fight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Dylan":&lt;/span&gt;  Oh, yeah.  Yesterday she threw my back pack off the bus.  They got pretty mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;  What?!  While it was moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Dylan":&lt;/span&gt;  Yeah.  They had to stop and get it.  But it's ok, but if she does it again, we're in more trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me:  &lt;/span&gt;Uhm, yeah.  Finish your snack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;thought that was hilarious.  Then again, I think everything they say is funny.  Hoped you enjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/KATIES%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-571052545104634917?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/571052545104634917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=571052545104634917' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/571052545104634917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/571052545104634917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/01/back-packs-busses-banned.html' title='Back packs.  Busses.  BANNED.'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SW_JG-sY0nI/AAAAAAAAAEI/3DxA99aXlfc/s72-c/ladybugbackpack.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-2655452579636363493</id><published>2009-01-14T17:32:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T18:09:16.071-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sorry, did someone order a crap sandwich?  Wait, that's me.</title><content type='html'>Now I'm not going to be so negative as to say that 2009 is the equivalent to that of a "crap sandwich." (A phrase I can thank Dominique for and one I'm sure my mother is clucking her tongue and shaking her head at, but oh well.  Sorry moms. :) ) No, 2009 hasn't been long enough to reach that status.  However, the past week 1/2 back at school CAN reach that status.  Allow me, if I possibly can, to elaborate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was called to testify in court for reasons legally I can't get into, but know that I did not partake in some sort of B&amp;amp;E with any local hooligans, (that's breaking and entering for the "un-hip") but it had to do with one of my kids in my class.  No big deal, I just had to plan to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;possibly&lt;/span&gt; be out of my room between this Monday and Wednesday (today); they said they'd let me know an hour before.  I know most of you are probably thinking, "What?  Why is that bad?  Just suck it up and go,"  but you can't just "go" when you have 20 1st graders.  You have to plan something for them to do, something for them to do when they've finished the other thing you planned for them, a detailed list of rules and procedures, another detailed list regarding who can't stand/sit with who in line/on the carpet, etc. (And that's just for being gone 1, maybe 1 1/2 hours.  Just imagine a whole day).  So yeah, I was not stoked.  Plus there are other things to the situation that just made me feel like a craptastic teacher and like I was getting put right in the middle of something I did NOT want to be put in, but anywho.  Well, they did give me a little notice, a whole 2 days notice, so I planned to be gone at 11 am today and return soon after I gave my little testimonial.  WELL, I am about 15 minutes down the road (11:15.  I testify at 11:30) when the school calls to tell me that the lawyer just called and said they don't need me afterall.  Are. You. Kidding. Me.  I mean, it is a blessing, don't get me wrong, but 15 minutes before?!  Nobody has any respect for my time, I tell ya.  So yeah, I planned and worried and lost sleep (truly I did) over NOTHING.  Nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have had to plan double time for my class because I found out I have not 1 but 5 kids who are below where they need to be in 1st grade.  Awesome.  5 out of 20.  1/4 of my students.  I am the best and most awesome teacher ev-er.  So I had to fill out 5 sets of paperwork to take them through testing, plan extra lessons plans to do extra work with them, schedule 2-3 more hours into my school day to fit all that schiesse in, and then turn average yarn into gold to be spun before the nights end. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a paper due for my 1st year evaluation coming up. SERIOUSLY, who has to write a paper after they graduate??  TEACHERS, that's who, because we always have homework, we are never not supposed to be doing something (though I quite frequently choose to ignore whatever it is).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I had to start making payments on my student loans.  Thank you, Sallie Mae, for truly being a life ruiner.  I am seriously forever endebted to you and all I get is a job where I am underpaid and underappreciated, but I love it.  Catch damn 22.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pro-freakin-ration.  Apparently I picked the wrong year to become a teacher because apparently the government is out of money.  I tell you, they say, be a teacher, they need you, there's a shortage, and there is, but we have the hardest time finding/keeping jobs.  Lord, please don't let me loose my job.  I'm too unmotivated to start that process all over again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I spilled my Diet Coke all on the floor in front of my classroom yesterday.  I went to turn my hand to unlock my door and as I turned that wrist, I idiocally turned the other and poured my DC all on my floor AND on my new lunch box (but don't worry, I got that crap out).  Really put a damper to the start of my day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, 2009 has not been filled completely with crap sandwiches and all it's tasty fillings.  There have been some very fantastic things happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Wii.  Which is video game-ese for awesome.  My sister Leigh and her husband got a Wii from my mom, Amber, and me for Christmas and I tell you, I don't know what I did before it!  It is seriously the most addicting thing ever.  EVER.  It. Is. Awesome.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;24 &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; American Idol have returned.  Two of my loves (one I have been without for almost 2 years) have returned from the dead and are now filling up 3 of my otherwise lackluster nights of television.  Fantastic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Two of my best friends are engaged, which I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;could&lt;/span&gt; have put on the crap sandwich list because I am not, but let's be honest, right now, I would be an unfit wife.  I&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;would probably be get charged with verbal domestic abuse, if that's possible, I have no idea.  So yay Eva. Yay Jillian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have Monday off school.  No elaboration needed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cadburry Mini Eggs are being sold in the individual packages at CVS which only tells me the family size bags are soon to follow.  Things are looking up!  (One of those will soon be my weight)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got some a new digital camera, new jeans, new school pants, a new cardigan, new lip gloss, new Mineral Viel (make up, and this one has SHIMMER, it's amazing), AND a birthday present from Sephora.  And 4 of those purchases were made using gift cards, including the camera, which makes them even better.  Ah, the simple things.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Leigh got a new shipment of Omaha steaks from her mother in law, which means I got the box of gourmet franks that go with it.  Gourmet franks...also known as fancy hot dogs...also known as the best hot dog Lucy Burrett and myself have ever eaten.  Leigh and Matt are sick of them, so they give them to me.  Bless their souls.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;So, as you can see the good outweighs the bad.  As yes, I still know the Lord is good and He loves me and wants me to prosper, but that doesn't prohibit me from telling everyone about my crap sandwhich of a week and a 1/2.  Let's hope the month of January doesn't turn into a crap salad, then I'd really be disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Credit to Dominique Grant for all crap food references made.**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-2655452579636363493?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/2655452579636363493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=2655452579636363493' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2655452579636363493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2655452579636363493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-sorry-did-someone-order-crap.html' title='I&apos;m sorry, did someone order a crap sandwich?  Wait, that&apos;s me.'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-3794583041159514312</id><published>2009-01-04T14:22:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T14:52:47.095-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hardcandy Christmas in Dixie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I just thought I would combine 2 delightful Christmas songs to create one awesome title. So, yes, Christmas break is coming to a close. I had a good first grown up Christmas break. Christmas is different when you're an adult. I mean, don't get me wrong, it is still wonderful and great and will always be my favorite holiday, but it's just different. You get excited about getting plates and robes and pajama pants (all of which I looooove, especially the robe).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anyway, we did have some childlike moments on Christmas. My sister Leigh and her husband got a Wii (which is awesome and my arms are officially sore from playing it for 4 days in a row). My mom also got a bike (found by my sweet and kind brother in law). A beautiful baby blue old school bike. And she loves it. However, we forbid her to ride it until she went up the road to the Super Secret Wal Mart and bought a helmet. She says it's one of her favorite gifts ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We didn't get to stay and play with all our toys long because My mom, my two sisters Amber and Leigh, and myself had to drive to Harlingen, TX the next day at 5:30 in the AM. We were going to see my brother Sheldon, his very pregnant wife Kristin and my two nieces Karissa and Kamryn. In case you didn't know that is a 12.5 hour drive. A very long drive across 3 very ugly states. Sorry for the residents of Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas, but there is not much scenery to see along it's lovely coasts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Throughout our journey we learned some interesting things. For example, Amber thought that when an exit off the interstate said EXIT ONLY, that meant you can only exit there and you cannot get back on the interstate from that location. True story. We also realized you cannot steal others wireless internet while going 75 mph through the city of Houston. We also realized it's important to not sing inappropriate songs while your mother is trying to navigate through the hustle and bustle of Houston. It may result in you being "cussed." In fact, this conversation followed after making it safely through Houston.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mom:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; See, Leigh, we made it.  You were a fine navigator  And I did NOT cuss you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Leigh:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Um, you said you were going to bitch slap me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mom:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;  Oh...well...hmm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We did safely make it to Texas and had lots of fun. I taught my niece Kamryn some lines from Pearl the Landlord (non of the bad words...I'm not that bad of an aunt. However, I did teach her how to say, "I need to get my drink on" which I know is bad, but come on, it was funny). I had a great birthday and my brother grilled out steaks and we had cake and I got presents and it was awesome. We had so much fun together and I hated to leave...mainly because I didn't want to spend another 13+ hours in the car (yes, the ride home was longer than the ride there). There are some stories I could tell from it, but for the sake of my family and their reputation, I will keep them to myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;And now I must get back to the real world of 1st grade, but before I go, I leave you with some pictures from our trip. Enjooooy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;How we spent most of our trip...well...how &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; spent most of mine.  Watching friends and various movies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeXMvx0-I/AAAAAAAAAC4/yHVytpOqDCg/s1600-h/amber+me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeXMvx0-I/AAAAAAAAAC4/yHVytpOqDCg/s320/amber+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287540821417120738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kamryn and Karissa helping me open my presents...they're so thoughtful.  I think they thought the presents were theirs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeYbiNIxI/AAAAAAAAADI/ICYLNysj7ww/s1600-h/birthday+presents.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeYbiNIxI/AAAAAAAAADI/ICYLNysj7ww/s320/birthday+presents.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287540842566591250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Brother and sisters.  Amber, Sheldon, Leigh, and me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeY21t7QI/AAAAAAAAADQ/9eJm4V6yfYo/s1600-h/brother+and+sisters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeY21t7QI/AAAAAAAAADQ/9eJm4V6yfYo/s320/brother+and+sisters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287540849896189186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sisters.  Karissa and Kamryn.  They're the cutest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEfzmwcb-I/AAAAAAAAADg/uCGEamVjzPU/s1600-h/kam+and+karissa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEfzmwcb-I/AAAAAAAAADg/uCGEamVjzPU/s320/kam+and+karissa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287542408947199970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;We went to the park on my birthday.  Kamryn loooves the slide.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEf1a1OVpI/AAAAAAAAAEA/H21eQX021Oc/s1600-h/kam+slide.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEf1a1OVpI/AAAAAAAAAEA/H21eQX021Oc/s320/kam+slide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287542440105760402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Apparently Karissa gets in trouble frequently in her Pre-K class for this act.  Well, since she was with us, we didn't care.  However, when her dad got there and saw her doing this, he was not pleased.  Whoops.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEf1D2sUJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/qU8702xWPxg/s1600-h/karissa+slide.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEf1D2sUJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/qU8702xWPxg/s320/karissa+slide.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287542433937903762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Karissa being silly at the dinner table.  I just think this picture is so cute and funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEf0nHCZPI/AAAAAAAAADw/6mXPWR3jnjM/s1600-h/karissa+laughing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEf0nHCZPI/AAAAAAAAADw/6mXPWR3jnjM/s320/karissa+laughing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287542426221831410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kamryn had no idea I was taking a picture.  This is just her natural eating face.  I have never seen a child love sweets more than me, but she does.  I have met my match.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEfz6UTPcI/AAAAAAAAADo/wTbxKFiGepg/s1600-h/Kam+eating.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEfz6UTPcI/AAAAAAAAADo/wTbxKFiGepg/s320/Kam+eating.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287542414197865922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-3794583041159514312?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/3794583041159514312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=3794583041159514312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/3794583041159514312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/3794583041159514312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2009/01/hardcandy-christmas-in-dixie.html' title='Hardcandy Christmas in Dixie'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SWEeXMvx0-I/AAAAAAAAAC4/yHVytpOqDCg/s72-c/amber+me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-1451400591402864265</id><published>2008-12-13T16:49:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T17:51:25.617-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On a serious note...</title><content type='html'>So the title can and should somewhat lead you to believe that this is a more serious post, and it is, to a certain extent.  I was thinking the other night, as I sat and made Dominique and Lucy watch a very sweet and sad video, about the things that make me cry.  Those of you who know me can attest to the fact that I, Mary Kathryn Shropshire, am not much of a crier.  Tears will eventually flow over sad or extenuating circumstances, but it is usually a few days (and in some cases months) after the situation has occurred.  I'm trying and have most definitely improved my connection to my emotional womanly core, but for so long and for a reason I cannot explain, I had no connection to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure I would get upset and cry over my feelings being hurt and things like that, but things like deaths and sadness and sacrifices and love and so many other things have never hit my emotional core.  Slowly, the older I get, they are.  I think the older I get, I am seeing more and more that death, sadness, sacrifice, and love are a definite real and tangible part of life.  I suppose I never really connected them to my life, but I am seeing more and more how they are there, all around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW, I've decided to compile a "list" in no particular order of the many movies/books/situations that can make me weep like a small small child no matter what.  Do not ask me why I am posting about this, I just want to see if everyone else is just as weak as I am when it comes to these things.  And for some, I will even post videos (that's right, to get the FULL effect).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Stepmom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; (movie)&lt;/span&gt;  This movie always always ALWAYS makes me cry and in the same exact spots every time.  I caught it on ABC Family one afternoon when I first moved up to Birmingham and decided, like the emotional whore that I am, to sit and watch it.  The two scenes posted below are the two inparticular that I generally loose it on.&lt;br /&gt;Restuarant scene (OH it's just so sweet and sad)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z0st_flVPeg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Z0st_flVPeg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ending of the movie (Christmas gifts.  I can't even talk about it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/o9956mNuJu4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/o9956mNuJu4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. Steel Magnolias (movie)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  What southern woman does not LOVE this movie and does not cry and laugh throughout the entire thing.  My sisters and I love this movie and quote it constantly and always cry uncontrollably while watching it, especially in the scene posted below.  We think it's secretly because Sally Field in this movie reminds us of our mother (I mean, Sally is just a motherly person, ya know?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funeral scene (It's just SO GOOD.  I mean you are crying, you are laughing, it's just classic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7xiRDsD18W4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7xiRDsD18W4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. The Crippled Lamb (children's book)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  Next week I'm reading this story to my class.  I'm hoping I have enough control not to break down in front of them (though I did start crying last year to my kindergarten class when I read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Story of Ruby Bridges&lt;/span&gt;) If you don't know this story, you need to go and read it. Find it.  It is truly the sweetest and most precious story I have ever read.  It's about the Christmas story and the birth of the baby Jesus and this precious lamb named Joshua...JUST typing about right now has gotten me a little emotional, so I won't go into details. Just read it.  That and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Story of the Three Trees&lt;/span&gt;.  This is one of those situations that the older I get, the more I realize and see the beauty and the sacrifice and love of the Gospel.  How this precious sweet baby came to save all who come to know Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. The Polar Express (children's book/movie)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  It doesn't matter which it is, I pretty much tear up on both of them.  It's such a sweet and magical book that, to me, is full of so much symbolism.  The boy in the story longs to hear the bells, but he can't because of his unbelief, when finally he sees Santa and sees that he is real, that he is there, and finally he hears the sweet tinkling of the sleigh bells.  I think of how I was before I was a believer. I heard everyone talk about the Lord, saw Him work in other people's lives, but didn't truly believe He would or could work in my life.  However, in the simplest and strangest of ways, God has a way of revealing Himself in His own mysterious way, giving us the faith to believe in Him, even if we don't see Him.  I am doing something really awesome with my kids with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Polar Express&lt;/span&gt; (courtesy of my mother) and once we do it, I'll post it and tell you about it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where I cry...because it's precious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tq7_L3IrIaY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tq7_L3IrIaY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. Hearing small children talk about Jesus (everyday life)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  I realize that most of these things have to do with Christmas and children, but maybe it's just the time of year that gets me a bit a emotional, I'm not sure.  There is something, though, about hearing a 6 year old share with you the simplicity of the best and most wonderful gift the world ever received.  What's even more sweet is that I never bring it up with my children (because I can't) but in small conversations at lunch or at recess, they'll say things that bring tears to my eyes and make my heart melt.  My mom said to me the other day that teaching at Christmas time is one of the best and most wonderful things because you get to be 6 years old again.  You get to remember what it was like to be a child, to have magic and wonder all around you.  Of course, she said that, and I got a little choked up, but it's true. I love my job and I am so thankful that I get the opportunity to spend my day with some of the funniest little people God created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last...mainly because I can't think of anything else/don't want to create the longest post ever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. The Story of Teddy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I really don't need to explain this one, you just need to watch it. This was the video I made Dom and Lucy watch the other night, and I just cried and cried as I watched it. I've heard the story several times. I heard it for the 1st time in my Classroom Management class and thought, oh that's sweet, that's nice.  Then I saw this video last year during Christmas and it finally hit me and I wept like a child.  I know the music is a little cheesy and the pictures are a little dramatic, but it's just one of the sweetest stories I've ever heard.  Just copy the link and paste it in your search engine.  It's worth it, I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.makeadifferencemovie.com/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've left you with enough videos to have you crying for days now, so I'm off.  I didn't post this stuff to be depressing or emotional, just to remind everyone it's ok to laugh, to cry,  to embrace all aspects of life, the heartache, the struggle, the love, and the beauty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-1451400591402864265?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/1451400591402864265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=1451400591402864265' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/1451400591402864265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/1451400591402864265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/12/on-serious-note.html' title='On a serious note...'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-9032066213010106123</id><published>2008-12-07T12:07:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T12:23:57.723-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cultural Spelling Rears its Ugly Head</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/STwRod20OQI/AAAAAAAAACw/Yv3N3wSKCTU/s1600-h/wii_console_swfoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/STwRod20OQI/AAAAAAAAACw/Yv3N3wSKCTU/s320/wii_console_swfoo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277112250278361346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/KATIES%7E1/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So every Friday in my class we have a spelling test.  It's not a normal I say the word, you write the word spelling test.  We do dictation sentences (which I send home at the beginning of the week for them to practice all week, so it's not new to them).  I say all that to say that Friday is not my students first exposure to any of these words.  All of them are somewhat familiar.  Got that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I call out the sentences and the words, I walk around the room to make sure the kids are on the right line and that they are somewhat going in the right direction.  I am walking around, pretty proud of them because for ONCE I feel like they seem to be getting these words (Praise the Risen Lamb).  Then I get to my good friends seat.  We will call her "Dylan."  We will call her "Dylan" because earlier in the week when we were writing our name on the back of some cute elves we made, she wrote "Dylan" all over the back of hers.  Her name is not "Dylan" and is not even close to being "Dylan."  It doesn't even start with a D.   She just does things for the sheer joy of causing me to raise my voice.  Sometimes I think because she knows I'm going to just look at her with my mouth ajar, shaking my head in utter confusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so I get to "Dylan's" seat and the sentence I  asked them to write was "We are here."  Easy, simple sentence. I go one word at a time to make sure they get it.  I get to good old "Dylan's" table and I see she has written the first word, which should be "We" but instead of writing the correct, English language spelling of the word "we" she has decided to write it the cool, 21st century way and spell it "Wii."  She knew what she was doing. She knows how to spell "We." In no way was she confused and thought that I meant the awesome video game system that I secretly want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at her, with my head cocked to one side and said, "Um, 'Dylan,' Miss Shrop doesn't mean THAT kind of 'we.' " The whole class then starts to yell out, "What kind of 'we' did she write?" "Did she write like a 'Wii?!' " "I have a Wii, Miss Shrop!" "Santa said he's bringing ME one!"  Mind you, this is all during the middle of a test. She just grins a mischeovous grin and looks at me with this sly look like, "Ah piss, I've been caught," and erases it to write the correct spelling.   However, I shouldn't be surprised.  This is the same kid who, at lunch last week, was pretending to be Kung Fu Panda and practicing "dominating" everyone with just a single flick of her pinky.  Ay Dios Mios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-9032066213010106123?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/9032066213010106123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=9032066213010106123' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/9032066213010106123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/9032066213010106123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/12/cultural-spelling-rears-its-ugly-head.html' title='Cultural Spelling Rears its Ugly Head'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/STwRod20OQI/AAAAAAAAACw/Yv3N3wSKCTU/s72-c/wii_console_swfoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-8976368027130933128</id><published>2008-12-04T17:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T18:10:24.881-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I do love a survey</title><content type='html'>I love the smell of - laundry, Clean Cotton/Sunwashed Linen Yankee Candles, baked goods, whatever the name of this perfume that I sprayed on myself that for the life of me I can't remember.  Dang you Sephora and your ridiculous amount of fragrances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People would say that I - the most serious person they know...sike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand why - children insist on telling me they have to go to the bathroom AFTER they've peed their pants.  and why Edward Cullen isn't real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I wake up in the morning - I wonder if it is possible to sleep while showering, and then get depressed when I realize it is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my willpower to - not decrease my intake of Diet Coke...it is my one true love...besides Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is - perfectly planned and ordained, yet not always (well never for me) what you expect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My past made me - thankful Jesus found me when He did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get annoyed when - people don't like the music/movies/book/people I think are awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parties are not a good time to - yell FIRE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dogs are - wonderful...even though I hate their fur, but golden retrievers are really my all time favorite, so that's ironic, I guess?  Non-shedding dogs all the way though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cats are - Satan's spawn...except for Mr. Kitty (You're welcome, Twins)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is - FRIDAY! Or as my kids in my class say, "Miss Shrop's favorite day."  They know me too well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a low tolerance for - posers.  Yes, I just used the word posers.  I just took you right back to the 90's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm totally terrified of - being locked in a room with that clown thing from the Saw movies, or any other weird decrepit doll face...that or being attacked by a flock of birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why I thought my life would be - exactly like it is. Wait, because, it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always knew that I would - be a teacher.  Even when I tried not to, dang it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never in my life have I - met someone who thought Keanu Reeves was a good actor.  Ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High school was - full of some pretty dumb choices, but hilarious stories and fantastic nicknames for weird people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm nervous - I avoid eye contact.  Whoops.  The cats outta the bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time at a family gathering - I made everyone (mom, sisters, and brother) wear Harry Potter glasses for my birthday.  I'm pretty sure I was like 19...too old to make people do things, or have anything Harry Potter themed, but yes, it's all true..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take my advice - laugh.  A lot.  And be patient.  And listen.  And remember the One who gave you life.  Ok, that was a lot of advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making my bed - is great.  I finally got a big people's bed after 23 years of sleeping on a twin bed of some sort.  Tis so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost always - telling someone about something some kid did in my class at some point during the day, be it phone, face to face, email, blog, the list goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm addicted to - Diet Coke.  Twilight.  Peppermint ice cream.  and YouTube.  The last 3 are always interchangeable, but the first is a constant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want someone to - fly me to New Zealand to see my precious Georgie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-8976368027130933128?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/8976368027130933128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=8976368027130933128' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8976368027130933128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8976368027130933128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-do-love-survey.html' title='I do love a survey'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-5945853106953876448</id><published>2008-11-28T11:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T11:23:53.675-06:00</updated><title type='text'>These are a few of my favorite things</title><content type='html'>Being home for Thanksgiving means many things to me.  It means having my precious mother doing things for me that normally wouldn't occur if I still lived here. (i.e. fixing me breakfast, getting me medicine if I need it, baking with me, etc.)  It also means sitting with my sister Amber watching countless hours of YouTube videos.  These have been a few of our favorites this holiday season, all courtesy of MadTV.  You're welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who doesn't love Bon Qui Qui?  I haven't found anyone yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jZkdcYlOn5M&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jZkdcYlOn5M&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now these last few are a classic favorite in the Shropshire house hold.  Her name is Dot and to US she is hilarious.  Maybe not to you, but I love it.  And I PROMISE there is a boy in my class who acts almost exactly like her.  EXACTLY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dot on Oprah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uVlfhbkW71o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uVlfhbkW71o&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dot and ADD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IfdtjMdqhpg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IfdtjMdqhpg&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dot and the Good News Forum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jXykfeqk0XI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jXykfeqk0XI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in other news...CHRISTMAS IS OFFICIALLY HERE!!  YAAAAAAAAY.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-5945853106953876448?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/5945853106953876448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=5945853106953876448' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/5945853106953876448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/5945853106953876448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/these-are-few-of-my-favorite-things.html' title='These are a few of my favorite things'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-2612382949348333956</id><published>2008-11-23T12:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T22:09:06.355-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Did someone say "Vampire"?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SSmmqlIvg3I/AAAAAAAAACo/4kd44oC4Bzs/s1600-h/twilight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SSmmqlIvg3I/AAAAAAAAACo/4kd44oC4Bzs/s320/twilight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271928089267372914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes, that's right, vampire.  I am somewhat ashamed to say I have fallen victim to a most heinous crime; I have become involved in the tweeny &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Twilight&lt;/span&gt; saga.  It is also a fact that I spent the latter part of my Saturday afternoon engrossed in the lives of supposed teenage vampires and one loner teenage girl.  I tell ya, though, there is something endearing about that blood thirsty beast.  Despite the fact that, at points, he does want to kill his girlfriend because of her "delicious scent", he really isn't all &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must give credit to many friends for the introduction to this book.  Dom for allowing me to borrow her copy.  Joy Allen for telling me how deliciously wonderful it was (and the fact that she sort of wished her sweet husband was a vampire after reading it) and Katie Sandstead for always having a love for vampires and werewolves despite what the masses said.  I am only on the 1st book so I don't need people ruining things for me and I do plan to see the movie when I'm finished (despite the lackluster reviews from book fans).  I always feel when seeing a movie based off a book (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Harry Potter&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Narnia&lt;/span&gt;) you have to be willing to seperate the two.  They are, after all, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;based&lt;/span&gt; on the book, not taken entirely word for word.  I have, in fact, been reading the Chronicles of Narnia to counter the dark vampiredom that looms over me before sleep.  I can't be having dreams about people sucking my blood.  I'd much rather dream of a sweet, tender lion singing life into a lifeless land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say that I have not gone into full blown vampire mania, but I will say this;  if I ran into Edward Cullen on the street, I would definitely not be sad or terrified at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-2612382949348333956?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/2612382949348333956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=2612382949348333956' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2612382949348333956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/2612382949348333956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/did-someone-say-vampire.html' title='Did someone say &quot;Vampire&quot;?'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SSmmqlIvg3I/AAAAAAAAACo/4kd44oC4Bzs/s72-c/twilight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-4570891260035942020</id><published>2008-11-15T14:24:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T15:28:30.213-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the places you'll go...and have been</title><content type='html'>Let me preface this blog by saying that I love living in Birmingham.  It's such a great place with loads of fun things to do.  The weather is great, there are actually seasons, it's wonderful. However, every now and then, I get a bit nostalgic for the simpler college times back in the good old M-O-B.  I look back I realize how much I took everything for granted.  I have decided to compile a random list, in no particular order, of the great and wonderful things I miss about college/Mobile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My sweet wonderful family and friends.  I LOVE my friends in Birmingham (Lucy, Dom, Tiley, etc. etc.) and my wonderful sister Leigh and brother-in-law Matt who are here, but I can't help but long for the days of living in the Chi O house and being right down the hall or in the same room as or right across the yard of some of my very best friends ever.  Being able to go to my mom's house and sit and do nothing when the "stress of life" got to be too much. The crappy thing about growing up is that you have friends and family spread out everywhere.  I vote we all have a reunion in Mobile during Christmas...maybe for my birthday?! Any takers? Come on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some snap shots of the lovely people of my life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zIffvfpI/AAAAAAAAABA/Z8pcRcvNOpE/s1600-h/Fall+07+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zIffvfpI/AAAAAAAAABA/Z8pcRcvNOpE/s320/Fall+07+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268986310033374866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zKhJn_kI/AAAAAAAAABg/nh0D8XMcnWk/s1600-h/Fall+07+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 227px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zKhJn_kI/AAAAAAAAABg/nh0D8XMcnWk/s320/Fall+07+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268986344837217858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zIz1kDbI/AAAAAAAAABI/PyXZLuU8YQY/s1600-h/December+2007+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zIz1kDbI/AAAAAAAAABI/PyXZLuU8YQY/s320/December+2007+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268986315493608882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zJ_1fXUI/AAAAAAAAABY/Xzyn3hsmQq0/s1600-h/n51203605_30360059_2670.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 226px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zJ_1fXUI/AAAAAAAAABY/Xzyn3hsmQq0/s320/n51203605_30360059_2670.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268986335894396226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zJbn7rTI/AAAAAAAAABQ/eNSh6T2jb3E/s1600-h/n51200014_30011459_8079.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 242px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zJbn7rTI/AAAAAAAAABQ/eNSh6T2jb3E/s320/n51200014_30011459_8079.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268986326173855026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81pPRSpkI/AAAAAAAAABo/ITYFbE0j3qQ/s1600-h/me+and+the+twins.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 241px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81pPRSpkI/AAAAAAAAABo/ITYFbE0j3qQ/s320/me+and+the+twins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268989071636735554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81puNOCRI/AAAAAAAAABw/_EcuuCBqdpA/s1600-h/me+joy+eva.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81puNOCRI/AAAAAAAAABw/_EcuuCBqdpA/s320/me+joy+eva.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268989079941155090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81p6ohwlI/AAAAAAAAAB4/MZCeTmXaPFQ/s1600-h/n51205434_31081369_1610.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81p6ohwlI/AAAAAAAAAB4/MZCeTmXaPFQ/s320/n51205434_31081369_1610.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268989083276919378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81qHzof8I/AAAAAAAAACA/tIJSllvMCLw/s1600-h/Fall+07+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 248px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR81qHzof8I/AAAAAAAAACA/tIJSllvMCLw/s320/Fall+07+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268989086813159362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. FOOD.  Everyone who knows me knows that I love food.  I don't have what some would call a "mature taste" but I definitely have an appreciation for the simpler foods.  I also love to go out to eat.   It's just something about sitting with your friends, enjoying good food and delicious cold drinks that just feels right.    There are some deeeeelicious places to eat here in the Ham, there is no doubt about it, but I miss Foosacklys, Butch Cassidy's, Mellow Mushroom, The Oyster House, Los Rancheros, the list goes on.  I can't wait for Thanksgiving break so I can hit up at LEAST 2-3 of these lovely hot spots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87ePa0H3I/AAAAAAAAACg/rHzkh_RKKw8/s1600-h/desktops_cantfake_1024x768.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 182px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87ePa0H3I/AAAAAAAAACg/rHzkh_RKKw8/s320/desktops_cantfake_1024x768.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268995479767883634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  The University of South Alabama.  Now, I don't miss going to school.  I've always been a firm believer that college would be a lot cooler if classes didn't get in the way, but I miss the CAMPUS of USA.  I miss the piers there, the Chi O house, picnic benches, playing racquetball, sneaking foreigners in TO play racquetball, the Delta Deli, heck, I even miss the student center (which employed myself and many others for a little over a year).  I miss being a part of groups and thinking I am "so busy." What I wouldn't give to be "that busy" again. I barely have time to think.  And believe me, I know there are about 2342908234 people out there far busier than me at the moment...since I have taken over an hour puttin this post together. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87dzGcXkI/AAAAAAAAACQ/D_6V6ixIKqw/s1600-h/color+crest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 207px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87dzGcXkI/AAAAAAAAACQ/D_6V6ixIKqw/s320/color+crest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268995472166248002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87eBbm6EI/AAAAAAAAACY/fn2ipxrxFuw/s1600-h/s.-alabama.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 127px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87eBbm6EI/AAAAAAAAACY/fn2ipxrxFuw/s320/s.-alabama.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268995476013115458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. The Guilt Free days of Doing Absolutely Nothing...and Loving it.  Now, I still do this on occassion (but I rarely get to sit and enjoy it because I'm always thinking of the 17000 things I should be doing), but it seems as if when I was in Mobile, I always had someone to sit around and watch endless hours of movies/television with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Grace Community Church.  I love that place.  When I was in Mexico in summer of 07, the Lord truly convicted and convinced me of the importance of the church as a believer.  It's been said by&lt;br /&gt;many that the church isn't just a building, it's the people in it.  This is the best way I can describe this wonderful church.  I love the people, I love what it stands for, the teaching, the music, it's laid back feel.  I miss it every Sunday, but I know the Lord will give me a church here in Birmingham that I love just as much as Grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87dn_IMFI/AAAAAAAAACI/KG4kN8l53No/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 84px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR87dn_IMFI/AAAAAAAAACI/KG4kN8l53No/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268995469182775378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there is so much more that I miss and love about Mobile, but I know the Lord has a divine and wonderful plan for ever season of life He brings us into.  I feel like my life always comes back to Psalm 16:11 "You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand."  Wherever I am and whatever I am doing, I need to remember and believe the goodness of the Lord.  He is always in my presence, filling me with His wonderful joy.  I know in a few years, I'm going to look back on this time in my life and long for things to be as simple as they are now, but for now I want to remember fondly the amazing people I've met, places I've been, and things I have done...and look forwards to all the things to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-4570891260035942020?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/4570891260035942020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=4570891260035942020' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/4570891260035942020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/4570891260035942020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/oh-places-youll-goand-have-been.html' title='Oh the places you&apos;ll go...and have been'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SR8zIffvfpI/AAAAAAAAABA/Z8pcRcvNOpE/s72-c/Fall+07+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-5721866761910367687</id><published>2008-11-07T20:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T21:27:38.750-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Heads up-7 Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I feel like the Lord let me be a teacher for no other reason than the fact that kid stories really have to be my favorite genre of stories ever.  The things they say, do, and think, constantly leave me puzzled, perplexed and undoubtedly dumbfounded.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;So today was Friday.  Friday at school means you finish up the week, give a spelling test, continuously bribe them with rewards of stickers/cookies/candy/books to try and keep noise level at a dull roar, and obviously Friday is Friday FUNday.  Well, this Friday happened to be a bit of a rainy, chilly Friday, at least when it came time to go to recess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;On rainy recess days, instead of going straight from lunch to the playground, we go take a bathroom break and go back to the classroom to play a fun rainy recess game. You know, a little 4 corners, doggy doggy where's your bone, and my personal favorite,  Heads Up-7 Up.  Well this particular game of HU-7U started out on a bit of a bad note.  3 kids were left sitting out due to "loud lunchroom volume" and blatant shouting in the hallway during our bathroom break.  So I was left with 14 kids playing for the 1st couple of rounds.  Finally I let everyone join.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I love playing games with my kids cause their reaction when someone guesses them or gets things wrong is priceless.  It's very hard for me to remain an "adult" in the situation when how I really want to react is, "NOPE! WROOOOOOOONG!" "Sit doooooown!" "Maaaaaybe next time!"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anywho, back to my ORIGINAL story.  We were on about the 4th or 5th round of HU-7U (ok, so maybe rainy recess sometimes lasts a little bit LONGER than outside recess, but I don't see any recess police around coming after me) when one of the funniest kids in my class gets to join us in the picking of 7's.  I mean this kid is hilarious.  The faces he makes, the things he says.  He is one of those kids who will give you a hug 17 times a day because he knows he is in trouble and KNOWS he is cute and tries to manipulate you with it.  He constantly calls me sweetie pie and baby doll and I'm constantly telling him, "You can't say that. It's inappropriate," to which he responds with, "Ok, baby! *wink*" No exaggeration.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Anywho, everyone put their heads down and I sent the pickers to do some upping.  He went, he picked, and came to the front with me.  He was standing beside me, but kind of a little behind me with another girl who is also very cute and says the most insane things as well. It's like she thinks it, she says it.   Well, the two of them are the only ones up there with me, when all of a sudden I hear this muffled gurgley noise.  I'm just thinking one of them is swishing spit around in their mouth making a "mouth noise" (which have become the BAIN of my existence as a teacher), so I turn around to ask them to stop when one of the funniest things that has happened this year, happened. I turn around and this is the conversation that insued:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: *turn around to ask them to stop*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Boy and Girl: *Both have huge eyes and odd grins on their face*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Me: *I give a look as if to say, "Um what was that."*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Girl: *whispering and with a straight face* "Well he told me to pull his finger!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Boy: *Looks at me shrugging his shoulders and whisper yells* "I couldn't hold it in!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;AND THAT MOMENT, my friends, is when I lost it.  I reacted as if it was one of my good friends who just told me that and I looked at him with my mouth opened, shocked, and then broke out into a silent fit of laughter. They start laughing, he starts wafting the gaseous release everywhere, other children are wondering what is happening, however can't pick their heads up to see because of the strenuous game of HU-7U going on and I have to beg/bribe the both of them not to tell anyone else what just happened. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Shortly after the gurgly toot, the game ended, but everytime I looked at the both of them the rest of the day, I just shook my head and laughed, while they just winked at me and made a weird faces.  Farts are somewhat of a constant occurence in my room, though. It's bad. Awful. Silent, loud, violent, you name it, it happens.  However, every time one occurs, and is audible, I cannot help but to die laughing. I am 23, almost 24 years old and farts still amuse me. And I wonder why people can't take me seriously...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;P.S. I know my stories are SO LONG and dramatic, but I always feel the need to give background information so they can be appreciated even more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt; So deal with it. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-5721866761910367687?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/5721866761910367687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=5721866761910367687' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/5721866761910367687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/5721866761910367687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/heads-up-7-up.html' title='Heads up-7 Up'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-71126126993196193</id><published>2008-11-03T18:12:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T18:30:13.026-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cafeteria Crisis</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;After reading Kristen's hilaaaaaarious post about being maliciously attacked by a bee, I was reminded of a little event that happened in the life of 1st grade last week and it is called: My entire 1st grade class went nuts last week when we all got attacked by a yellow jacket.  Allow me to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids and myself are constantly, and I mean constantly seeing gross little creepy crawly critters everywhere in our room.  This mainly has to do with the fact that my kids are border line disgusting and always miss the trash can by about 10 feet and tiiiiiiny little pieces of food are always on the floor.  Anyway, so bugs are a regular occurrence with Miss Shrop's youngins.  And normally, at lunch, because we sit right by the door that leads outside (to the dumpsters no less) we are frequented by the occasional fly.  No big deal, just a little fly.  Well, one day as I am frantically trying to get my Lean Cuisine into the microwave, have a sip of my DC and get all 18 of my kids through the lunch line, two of my kids start to swat and hit at what seems to be a fly.  I start to get annoyed and tell them to chill out it is just a--when I realize, it is no fly. Oh no. It is no bee. OH NO. It. Is. A. YELLOW JACKET. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I do not do stinging insects. I really don't do insects at all. Actually, I hate them.  I especially hate STINGING insects. I am literally terrified.  Well, after I realize what it was, it seems as if all my kids decide they're going to come and sit down at the table at this time.  Well, that leads to mass chaos, kids running around the table, attempting to stab it, YES STAB IT, with forks, squash it with milk cartons, clap their hands together in a spastic like manner.  You name it they did it.  Some of them even sat there and LAUGHED as it crawled in their hair! Obviously all these "remedies" fueled the Jacket's anger even more as it buzzed and dive bombed every single one of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, you're the teacher, calm them down, gain control, but there was no calming down or controlling because I was just as freaked out as they were. I attempted to trap it with napkins several failed times, and each time it didn't work, I proceeded to crouch down into the fetal position praying that SOMEONE would rescue me from this yellow jacket hell.  This entire event only lasted MAYBE a minute, but it seemed like forever.  Finally, another teacher ran to my rescue and swatted the YJ out of a child's hair (cause THAT'S RIGHT, I was just going to let it crawl through this kids scalp. I thought about grabbing it, but my selflessness went right out the window) and squashed it into the cafeteria floor.  I told her thank you about a million times and how deathly afraid of them I was and how if there was anything she needed, just let me know! And she told me, "Don't mention it! Now, next time, if it's a snake, you'll be the one I'll call!"  Little does SHE know if there's a snake, I'm takin my big a on up out that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-71126126993196193?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/71126126993196193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=71126126993196193' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/71126126993196193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/71126126993196193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/cafeteria-crisis.html' title='Cafeteria Crisis'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-8177585860066489726</id><published>2008-11-02T20:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T20:11:35.536-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Jack IS Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I feel as though I have waited almost 2 years for this glorious event...wait...because I have.  24 is FINALLY returning.  With the premiere of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;24: Redemption&lt;/span&gt; (The Movie) Sunday November 23 at 7/8 central and the premiere of season 7 in Jan. 09, things are finally, FINALLY looking up in the world of counter-terrorism...at least fictionally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  And now the preview for season 7 of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;24&lt;/span&gt;.  And you can put me on record for most blog posts in a single day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QfDVKLXX8d0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QfDVKLXX8d0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-8177585860066489726?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/8177585860066489726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=8177585860066489726' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8177585860066489726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8177585860066489726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/jack-is-back.html' title='Jack IS Back'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-4111781547788085504</id><published>2008-11-02T19:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T19:31:32.798-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fashion Victims</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Sneaky Sneaky Waldo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QTrszLTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/90UC69MkQ4c/s1600-h/Halloween+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 238px; float: left; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264233313521052978" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QTrszLTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/90UC69MkQ4c/s320/Halloween+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So after much deliberation I decided to participate in some Halloween festivities. Dom, Lucy, myself, and others went to a delightfully entertaining Halloween party. Dom went as Waldo and photo bombed everyone in sight. Lucy went as a belly dancer because she ACTUALLY had the outfit on hand. Who ACTUALLY has a belly dancing costume on hand? Lucy Tyrone, thats who. She could be seen shaking her hips all night long (and spilling drinks whilst doing so). And I went as a nominee for TLC's hit show &lt;em&gt;What Not to Wear&lt;/em&gt;. (I basically decided on this 30 minutes before I was supposed to leave as I was watching an episode of &lt;em&gt;What Not to Wear&lt;/em&gt;. Original, I know). You can't see but I wore not 1 but 2 different colored socks; one Christmas sock and one multicolored striped sock. The best part was that my earrings lit up.  One of my sweet students gave me a pair of light up earrings after I told her I liked hers, so, naturally she brought me a pair of my own.  (Unused, thankfully).  For those of you who don't know, anytime children give you a gift, you have to wear it for at least 1-2 days, so I had to wear the earrings to school that day, so I figured they'd go beautifully with my tacky outfit. And obviously I have a backpack to carry all my stuff cause I'm too cool to carry a purse. Naturally. I stole some/all 3 photos from Dom, so thanks Dom. Needless to say, I'm over October and ready for the best holiday of all...CHRISTMAS! Oh and Thanksgiving will be pretty good too I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cousin Eddy decided to make an appearance.  Naturally, his RV was parked on the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QUO2MpMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vyqAtHruFfA/s1600-h/halloween+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QUO2MpMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vyqAtHruFfA/s1600-h/halloween+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 238px; float: left; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264233322955711682" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QUO2MpMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vyqAtHruFfA/s320/halloween+3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh that Waldo! She was everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QTjeRp8I/AAAAAAAAAAo/0vYZ30Fuxf0/s1600-h/Halloween+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; float: left; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264233311312652226" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QTjeRp8I/AAAAAAAAAAo/0vYZ30Fuxf0/s320/Halloween+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-4111781547788085504?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/4111781547788085504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=4111781547788085504' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/4111781547788085504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/4111781547788085504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/fashion-victims.html' title='Fashion Victims'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SQ5QTrszLTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/90UC69MkQ4c/s72-c/Halloween+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-8955533389472266693</id><published>2008-11-02T15:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T15:34:24.069-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cookies + Diet Coke = No man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So as you may know, I teach 1st grade.  For those of you who know me, I love a good story, and, let's be real, kids make the best stories.  I am fortunate to have some very entertaining students in my class.  Before I tell you this story, let me say that I LOVE every child in my rooml; however, there are moments where I want to call their parents and ask them "WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR CHILD?" but that's neither here nor there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Anyway, on to my story.  Some of you may or may not of heard this one before, but I feel as if it is a constantly developing story in my life.  Upon the beginning of the school year I informed my class that no I was not married, did not have children, moved here by myself, etc.  You would think this subject, the one of marriage, wouldn't be brought up again after this point.  You, my friend, would be wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I would say at least 1-3 times a week I get asked, by my students, if I am married.  In the beginning, it was kinda cute.  I responded with, "No" then they would ask if I have kids and I would kindly respond, "No" then they ask, "Well do you have a boyfriend" and I would kindly laugh and say, "Aww, go sit down."  Well the honeymoon of that question is over.  Now I respond with, "No." "Didn't I already tell you I WASN'T married?" "Please stop asking me that." "Sit down and be quiet."  I say all that to get to this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I love sweets.  Love them.  Cookies, candy, ice cream, anything delicious and awful are my weakness.  Well I used to bring Chips Ahoy Candy Blast cookies in my lunch everyday.  They're delish, I love them, can't get enough of them.  They were my special treat for having to wake up at the crack and face 18 6 year olds.  I also have a delicious Diet Coke every day with lunch. No I am not on a diet. I just love them. Well, one day at lunch, I was asked the age old question. I said, "Guys, you know I'm not married."  Then one sweet sweet child asked "Miss Shrop, when are you gonna get married."  and I smiled and said "I don't know, I guess when God wants me to."  Such a sweet child.  Then speaks a not so sweet child.  He says, and I quote "Miss Shrop, you on a diet? ("NO") Then how come you drink that drink? ("Because I like it.")  Man, Miss Shrop, you gotta get you a man!  Why you be eatin them cookies? You ain't gonna get you a man if you keep eatin all them cookies!"  That child had silent lunch for the rest of lunch.  This comment then resulted in others telling him he was rude and then a brief discussion from another boy about how you "don't be telling a woman that! And you don't ask her age or how much she weigh!"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So, in conclusion, don't eat cookies around children.  They either try to tell you how much they love them so you end up giving them to you, or they tell you how fat you will become upon consuming them.  Needless to say, Candy Blasts cookies haven't graced my lunch box since that day.  Maybe one day they will again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-8955533389472266693?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/8955533389472266693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=8955533389472266693' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8955533389472266693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/8955533389472266693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/cookies-diet-coke-no-man.html' title='Cookies + Diet Coke = No man'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4379503188652383281.post-6466258212844520899</id><published>2008-11-02T15:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T15:21:30.720-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I caved.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So, it's official.  I have now caved and got a blog.  But as a preface, I will try to keep this as un-serious as possible.  Not that I am apposed to a serious blog, but it just isn't my style.  I really only got this thing to be cool like everyone else.  Kidding, kidding, but I did it.  I got a blog.  I am now hip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4379503188652383281-6466258212844520899?l=katieshrop.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/feeds/6466258212844520899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4379503188652383281&amp;postID=6466258212844520899' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/6466258212844520899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4379503188652383281/posts/default/6466258212844520899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katieshrop.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-caved.html' title='I caved.'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02973661176673960941</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lZdvPYOtIUw/SnHu2ROS1KI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Cl0ajI3HuyU/S220/BLOG+PICTURE.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
