tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-334979442024-03-08T13:06:14.976-06:00fashion nette-worka chick. her style. her stories.Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.comBlogger829125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-22513224368524137962016-05-02T18:37:00.002-05:002016-05-02T18:41:02.424-05:00Ain't Nobody Told Me<div style="text-align: center;">
Why ain't nobody told me......</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"> Nutella was so good????? I had no idea! My two co-workers/group message bandits looked at me like I was dressed like Kim Kardashian when I told them that I had never had Nutella. Their exclamations of "Oh it's sooooooo good! I can't believe you've never tried it!" made me give them the side eye a lil bit, but I bought some anyway.</span></div>
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Scarf: H&M years ago</div>
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Tee: <a href="http://www.thuglifeshirts.com/" target="_blank">Thug Life Shirts</a> (I rocks with them)</div>
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Jeans: J. Crew (Great for us curvy girls and they have super sales!)</div>
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No.Body.Told.Me.It.Was.So.Gooooood. It's like what I imagine Idris Elba tastes like, or what I imagine Oprah smells like. I do kinda, sorta feel a teensy tiny bit like I should have Black Card Detention because one of my friends was like "We don't eat that! What's wrong with regular old peanut butter???" when I mentioned to him how much Nutella made my insides melt.</div>
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And why ain't nobody told me.....</div>
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the BeyHive rides sooooooo dang gum me hard for Beyonce? I loves B, if I can't be with Jay I choose her as my successor. But why people outchea blowing up Rachel Roy's daughter's Instagram (who is 16, by the way), and threatening Rachael RAY instead of the intended target, Rachel Roy??? </div>
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Rachael Ray yall! Rachael Ray tryna save us some time and teach us how to make a meal in 30 minutes and people throwing her cookbooks in the trash! #LawdHelp </div>
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I just knew we were gonna see Rachel Roy's home address all on these innanet streets but I think Bey contacted the BeyHive member in Charge of Operations and told them to tone it down.</div>
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I guess I am only a general member of the BeyHive </div>
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since I draw the line at threatening folks </div>
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and I don't have time to be putting all of those lemon and bee emojis in people's comments. </div>
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Sorry Bey. </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-74716728873947430542016-04-14T23:16:00.000-05:002016-04-14T23:16:32.369-05:00Why I Teach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's getting close to crunch time (state testing) and I, like so many others are stressed. In addition to making sure the students are equipped for greatness, there is misbehavior (kids and adults), balancing work and home, and incessant crying (again, kids and adults.) </div>
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Alls I know is that my Bible is working overtime over here....</div>
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I had a student ask me this week, "Ms. Benson, if teaching is such a hard job, why do you do it?"</div>
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I told her that my prayer is that if I can't reach all of them, that I can reach some of them.</div>
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But I <i>am</i> greedy. I want to save them all. Bring up the ones that are lagging behind, teach them about being kind even when others are mean, and don't ever, EVER settle for being mediocre. </div>
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Now let me be clear, I ain't no saint. I get frustrated, I give them the good ole teacher evil eye, and I may or may not be known for having a student shed a tear or two. </div>
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(Tell them you're disappointed, they hate that.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtKYNUmTyxLsMrjfzcBWHJM74F2sjA6sYn1vDgfx9b26jO-0fp5CWJb22AcfdBpaIVdXyIBScwPYmRkkp0nT2EI1hWLZvq6s1zdI-CIYhUBzYpB_hDkcUkGzDLUSlegiyhfoLpg/s1600/4.14.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtKYNUmTyxLsMrjfzcBWHJM74F2sjA6sYn1vDgfx9b26jO-0fp5CWJb22AcfdBpaIVdXyIBScwPYmRkkp0nT2EI1hWLZvq6s1zdI-CIYhUBzYpB_hDkcUkGzDLUSlegiyhfoLpg/s640/4.14.4.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Tee shirt: <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/258893647/basic-t-shirt-shades-of-excellence?ref=shop_home_listings" target="_blank">Niki's Groove</a></div>
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(I did not have the most pleasant experience with her but I love the shirt. </div>
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She is very talented but not timely in responding to inquiries.)</div>
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Jeans: H&M</div>
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Belt: Thrifted</div>
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But when the alternative is videos like <u><b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Under-The-Bridge-107689122611163/videos" target="_blank">THIS</a></b></u> one (NSFW), </div>
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I remember why I get up and go there every day.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> And if they don't have anyone else rooting for them, I will. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Rest when you're weary. Refresh and renew yourself, your body, your mind, your spirit. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then get back to work." ~Ralph Marston</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-75719034305237938142016-04-05T01:09:00.000-05:002016-04-13T22:38:21.646-05:00Latest and Greatest: An Update<div style="text-align: center;">
Hey y'all! *Waves excitedly and pretends that I have been here the whole time.*</div>
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Let's get into it shall we? </div>
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Here are some updates as to what is going on with lil ole me. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Love Life:</span><br />
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Remember when I was <a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2014/07/mojo.html" target="_blank"><b>all in love</b></a> and stuff? Well, yeah, love is a battlefield so I'mma need y'all to bless a sister with a few prayers that no foolery shall befall me in 2016. 2016 has been veddy veddy good to me thus far, it's kinda like <a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2012/10/mike-jones.html" target="_blank"><b>Mike Jones</b></a> on steroids. But y'all know I'm not greedy, </div>
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I only need one. I will even wear flats for the right somebody. Sometimes. Let's not get crazy. </div>
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Dress: Forever 21 (Purchased last summer)</div>
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Work: </div>
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I'm teaching 4th grade this year. I didn't think dropping from 5th to 4th would be that big of an adjustment but apparently 4th graders are very literal. So my witty humor is lost on them. I <i>KNOW!</i> Imagine all the great Juanette-isms they are missing out on. AND they are awkward huggers. They will hug you no matter what you have in your hand (hot coffee, meatball sub, scissors), who you are talking to (parents, other students, the principal) or whether you are paying attention to them or not. So I've learned to be on guard for any unexpected embraces. They are sweet though, someone brings me cake at least once a week because if it is ANYONE'S birthday that they know, the understand how their teacher feels about cake.</div>
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Mental State:</div>
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I've been in and out of a dark space for a little over a year now but now I can honestly say that I have an optimistic mindset these days. I blamed myself for the demise of my relationship and tried (valiantly, I might add) to salvage it. But once I watched <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pketb6gxR3w" target="_blank"><b>THIS</b></a> video, I realized that it was not my purpose to prove my worth and convince someone to stop being dumb. I had to release what was holding me back and realize what is meant for me will find me. I find myself hopeful and my soul is dancing once again. So I kicked up my workouts, took up meditating, and got my groove back like Stella (but without that whole gay husband thing.) </div>
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Jacket: Target</div>
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Dress: Asos</div>
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It is difficult for me to admit but I kinda forgot the rarity of me. </div>
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And I never want to forget that again. </div>
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Dress: Asos</div>
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High tops: Converse</div>
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All photos by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/people/Paul-S-Williams/100001846425856" target="_blank">Paul S. Williams Photography </a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">"You are obligated to understand that you are unique in the world. There has never been anyone like you because, if there were, there would be no need for you to exist. You are an utterly new thing in creation. Your life goal is to realize this uniqueness." -- </span><i style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Aaron Perlow</i></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-180426591240029792015-07-29T09:50:00.001-05:002015-07-29T09:50:37.792-05:00Bout That Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Yesterday was tough. But instead of me being Team In My Feelings, (I really was, I started crying while I was driving -cryving? when I was running errands, what tha heck???) I decided to focus on what I was grateful for instead. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_U8ZI24K_TiLmCRvR_HQLkBrT32X4PIoCUg_aGokJ88gO2lIFchzqjIHtg1YKsBmH11WGo7zHoA4dZZQUHC2ONzHpTKFDkPFPl528XHdsnLEFqurGJU54Zu5HvprJ5aL81y7aw/s1600/7.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_U8ZI24K_TiLmCRvR_HQLkBrT32X4PIoCUg_aGokJ88gO2lIFchzqjIHtg1YKsBmH11WGo7zHoA4dZZQUHC2ONzHpTKFDkPFPl528XHdsnLEFqurGJU54Zu5HvprJ5aL81y7aw/s640/7.28.jpg" width="394" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">I'm thankful that I am 43 and 24 year olds be asking about me. I get it now, Jennifer Lopez! I would never date him but it's still nice to know. #WhitePartyChronicles </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">#StillPullingEm <======That made me laugh </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvk5Wi_-_1HKycYXwo3lO5JCT5rn-9aF4pb6pUI7Bt0rZ61KPRBtW73v-it0J12__4O5SqIfYNu-EknHpSNK_MTWbR1J0SA64GlrGmFiPx1jxKnwn9Ee6wjz9K89V_kEu2CR3EA/s1600/7.28.8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvk5Wi_-_1HKycYXwo3lO5JCT5rn-9aF4pb6pUI7Bt0rZ61KPRBtW73v-it0J12__4O5SqIfYNu-EknHpSNK_MTWbR1J0SA64GlrGmFiPx1jxKnwn9Ee6wjz9K89V_kEu2CR3EA/s640/7.28.8.jpg" width="378" /></a></div>
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I am grateful for the ratchet song Flex Ooh Ooh Ooh by Rich Homie Quan. I.love.that.song. It speaks to my inner hoodrat e'em though I don't know half of what he's saying. I dance around and sing the parts that I know like I'm making a video. I'm also thankful that y'all are not judging me right now.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYitJN1tg9t7V6uawKq8D1rMxW-K6MKSNxMyJwy5b_G_fHISv8ouy1wIiZaNhuBFzB6SvAcEkO6PvL1_vgV5MMKFA026FmAa6FXtDXOaC4Ts1Y-flPGxlMz5uGUNiRDvm73OTVIw/s1600/7.28.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYitJN1tg9t7V6uawKq8D1rMxW-K6MKSNxMyJwy5b_G_fHISv8ouy1wIiZaNhuBFzB6SvAcEkO6PvL1_vgV5MMKFA026FmAa6FXtDXOaC4Ts1Y-flPGxlMz5uGUNiRDvm73OTVIw/s640/7.28.2.jpg" width="488" /></a></div>
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I am immensely appreciative of words. When I see or hear a word that I enjoy it gives me a burst of joy like that first bite of bacon on a bacon sandwich. Churlish, cerebral, fodder (-I used this the other day!), cantankerous, segue, impromptu, and plethora makes the nerd in me clap my hands with glee. I won't allow my students to use words like "sad, mad, good or smart" in class because I tell them that they know more words than that. Those are baby words and they are banned in my class so I have them come up with more fitting synonyms. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyC3rupsIfEa54xgOUHd7FMu7oGPvUCNYFVe3BJcrh6nfTgnGoQ9Hq6KQvsYhZqiaJtVGaX8Wf9oXZPhO7qlqAn_rMJdHNRtbq6bKQB5F9v6B2edU3wsXQtCiwFfi3Bvl-ZbA1Q/s1600/7.28.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOyC3rupsIfEa54xgOUHd7FMu7oGPvUCNYFVe3BJcrh6nfTgnGoQ9Hq6KQvsYhZqiaJtVGaX8Wf9oXZPhO7qlqAn_rMJdHNRtbq6bKQB5F9v6B2edU3wsXQtCiwFfi3Bvl-ZbA1Q/s640/7.28.5.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>
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I almost didn't post these photos because my legs are not as toned as I would like them to be, but in the midst of operation gratitude I said to myself, "Self, you better post those photos. You pulling 24 year olds!" While in the midst of my sads yesterday, I was thankful that I still got my butt moving to the gym. </div>
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Hey endorphins!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjSmTiN7gxn_TADYf1yHl-jiqPP9wUJb26xjCCbjLuxhlizw259dJQgD9f9yaU1-pQV2YYwuFsbmwVnJV3bOIiZvyKxPp_IRvXPY_LdM4y7CspdF1RtHWI4nq7HN7DrsMPMQ8Gw/s1600/7.28.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjSmTiN7gxn_TADYf1yHl-jiqPP9wUJb26xjCCbjLuxhlizw259dJQgD9f9yaU1-pQV2YYwuFsbmwVnJV3bOIiZvyKxPp_IRvXPY_LdM4y7CspdF1RtHWI4nq7HN7DrsMPMQ8Gw/s640/7.28.4.jpg" width="382" /></a></div>
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Shirt: Zara (On sale!)</div>
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Bracelets: Assorted</div>
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Shorts: DIY Levi's</div>
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Shoes: Jessica Simpson</div>
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We owe it to ourselves to take some time out of our day to admire the positivity in our lives. I am thankful to experience laugh out loud laughter daily, I am definitely bout that life. </div>
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Tell me, what are you grateful for? Can't think of anything? You better have something or I'mma tell Gawd on you and He will NOT be pleased......</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it."</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~William Arthur Ward</span></span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-29020042368388846882015-07-24T23:18:00.000-05:002015-07-24T23:18:48.866-05:00Choosey Lover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaRupjj1EVe2zoTuolammGj5_2Ot-hhIxPrDHMBnHD99f53mg8YEwgbBpifMl5kVIWd15d7AuMycerZuoWWB_a51z3rafaLvTZPiERooyHaSOW3B3UXj4x3i6BFAlOBSqYMj9Tg/s1600/7.24+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPaRupjj1EVe2zoTuolammGj5_2Ot-hhIxPrDHMBnHD99f53mg8YEwgbBpifMl5kVIWd15d7AuMycerZuoWWB_a51z3rafaLvTZPiERooyHaSOW3B3UXj4x3i6BFAlOBSqYMj9Tg/s640/7.24+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" width="566" /></a></div>
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Love. Sigh. It is both a blessing and a curse. We seek it, we crave that heart that connects with ours, we believe that somewhere there is someone who excites our soul. </div>
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And sometimes we are fortunate enough to find it. </div>
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But then doubt sets in. We fear that the love may leave us as love has done in the past. A particular behavior may trigger something that we experienced with someone else and we question our current relationship. We have been emotionally injured by someone who didn't take care with our heart so we assume that no one will. And so sometimes we sabotage it. We quit before we get fired so to speak. </div>
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Rationally you know that you must let the past go, that former situations shouldn't hold your future hostage but your mind didn't give your heart the memo. </div>
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So what do you do?</div>
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I've said before that love is a choice and I recently read an article that reiterated that. We say "I fell in love" but love doesn't just happen to us. We choose to open our hearts and once we opt to love then it is a commitment. But then we forget. We don't recall the plans that we made or the joy that we brought to one another's lives.Will everything be peaches and cream (or bacon and eggs in my case) in a relationship? No, of course not. There will be stressful situations, money strains, heated arguments, and times of impatience but that is when you have to dig in and select to love a little harder. Even when you don't see the light at the end of the tunnel. </div>
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And sometimes it's as dark as H-E-Double Hockey Sticks in that tunnel. </div>
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Ah love, you break my heart and make me feel helpless and hopeless. It's excruciating when it ends, but I choose to endure all of the bad for the sweetness that you bring to me when it is pure and real. So when you are fortunate enough to experience it, fight for it, And always, always choose to love. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghws7BqzkVIPolNFsL_ZBfzvkgHlDg1bO6l3AALExfzr72YDvQ3Nnr8GFYgU4hR2RJpXUvUOLAzs6T7PeOgeRs_gXsQaODQaulbD6J0N-0sZq5XOzAcIuf5xqKKmARymYh-OpQZQ/s1600/7.24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghws7BqzkVIPolNFsL_ZBfzvkgHlDg1bO6l3AALExfzr72YDvQ3Nnr8GFYgU4hR2RJpXUvUOLAzs6T7PeOgeRs_gXsQaODQaulbD6J0N-0sZq5XOzAcIuf5xqKKmARymYh-OpQZQ/s640/7.24.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
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Glasses: Warby Parker</div>
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Bob Marley tank: Forever 21</div>
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Striped bandeau: Ross</div>
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Bracelets: Assorted</div>
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Camo shorts: Old Navy</div>
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Sneakers: Converse</div>
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<strong style="background-color: #fcfcfc; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14.4479999542236px; line-height: 23.1168003082275px; text-align: start;">“We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.” ~Sam Keen</strong></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-27810444339339141642015-07-19T19:56:00.000-05:002015-07-19T19:56:45.183-05:00Final Exam <div style="text-align: center;">
Now as y'all know, I have had some peculiar meetings/dates in the past (see <b><u><a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2011/04/in-fashionistas-closet-dressing-in-dark.html" target="_blank">here</a></u></b>, <u><b><a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2012/05/in-fashionistas-closet-lemons-and-swag.html" target="_blank">here</a></b></u>, and <b><u><a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2013/03/not-these-panny-drawers.html" target="_blank">here</a></u></b> for reference.) So I have decided that I am going to start my own business. I'm gonna interview all potential dudes who want to date women and do an appraisal. I will take out all of the guesswork so you won't have to endure a date with a don't. Hmmm, catchy, maybe I can call it Don't Date A Don't?</div>
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It's gone be three phases to this undertaking. </div>
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Phase 1: Reading and writing: In order to move on to Phase 2 in the process, the gentlemen will have to answer such questions such as 1.What is the plural form of foot? 2. What is the contraction for 'they are' and 3. Write the word that means "to engage in conversation". If they answer <i>feets</i>, <i>their</i> or <i>there</i>, or God forbid <i>conversate</i>, sir, you will get all the negatives and you must go directly back to school. I'm gonna assume the first go round didn't stick.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUsLiw_NADvJBApZgwmyR06cM3BGvq77znm72ptsGXhuXmo0_wMRKcmxCFfvO-udkuwDZgA_2uHRYUINF2HiDgSwEZQUFhv-n0Cp7kjrignCplZel1S9BLnV6xHQtmX2yGn_pfQ/s1600/7.17.6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUsLiw_NADvJBApZgwmyR06cM3BGvq77znm72ptsGXhuXmo0_wMRKcmxCFfvO-udkuwDZgA_2uHRYUINF2HiDgSwEZQUFhv-n0Cp7kjrignCplZel1S9BLnV6xHQtmX2yGn_pfQ/s640/7.17.6.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>
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Short romper: H&M</div>
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Clutch: DSW</div>
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Shoes: Gianni Bini</div>
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Phase 2: Reference Check. You must provide the contact information of at least 3 people that will vouch for your date/relationship readiness: Your employer (if you do not have an employer ixnay on the atingday ingthay.) A platonic friend - platonic meaning you have never engaged in "relations" with one another and the last being an ex-wife or ex-girlfriend. If you are not friendly with at least one of your exes, then #Sorry #NotSorry #ThankYouForPlaying #YoureAnAHole. </div>
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*We will not accept yo mama nem because they always think their child is the bee's knees and no play cousins or play sisters cuz, well, I don't trust that, they might be the type to let you bring the side chick to their house. </div>
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We will also be able to check your call history/text messages for </div>
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relationship consistency with the ex. </div>
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Okay, so if they have mastered Phases 1 and 2, then they are able to move to Phase 3: The interview. Why do you want this <strike>job</strike> date? What qualifications do you possess? And then we will conduct a mock conversation. Unfortunately, some men are oblivious to the fact that women are not melting that you are calling them beautiful or sexy (so cliche), that you are interested in couponing, or that you are in need of new curtains.....huh?...what? </div>
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Oh I'm sorry I dozed off cuz that is some Boring Azz Shiznit right there. </div>
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Bottom line, I really wish people would stop applying for jobs that they are </div>
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obviously unqualified for....i.e. middle school graduates applying for masters level occupations. #ThisAintTheJobForYouBooBoo</div>
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"Don't Date A Don't - We Rendezvous Before You Do"</div>
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Now don't go stealing my million dollar idea, just send some clients my way....</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-64660547689298217782015-07-15T16:41:00.000-05:002015-07-15T16:41:15.278-05:00Gangstalicious <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I used to be a G.</div>
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Don't look at me, I did! </div>
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I used to be harder than the secret to Donald Trump's hairstyle.</div>
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Now don't get me wrong, I have always been a sensitive sort. I will cry when I say good-bye to my family after a visit, I will cry <i><b>talking about</b></i> a previous time that I cried, and watching a sad movie when the dude cries? </div>
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Mushy like a soft serve ice cream cone. Smh...</div>
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But when it came to matters of the heart? I was a thug. I could outstubborn John Wayne if I wanted to. (I just kinda feel like John Wayne was stubborn, he could have been a perfectly nice, forgiving man.) But anyway, once I was done back in the day, it was OVAH, I would treat you like John Cena #YouCantSeeMe </div>
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(Shoutout to my nephew for hipping me to that phrase.)</div>
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But now I don't know whats going on. Once I let someone in and become vulnerable, it's difficult for me to take my ball and go home (while giving them the middle finger) like I would do before. I want to TALK about stuff and WORK THINGS OUT and think about #RelationshipGoals and secretly call him Bae even though I hate that term. </div>
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I may even cry a few tears or two. Thug tears but tears nonetheless. </div>
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Scarf: Gap </div>
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Dress: Ross</div>
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Shoes: Sam Edelman</div>
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I think that because I meet few people that I connect with so if I do allow someone in, I want to preserve that. I told my friends that I think of myself as an exclusive nightclub. People may want to come to the club but everyone isn't going to get in. </div>
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Now matter how much they think they can pay. #Pow #NoEntry #TurnAroundAndGoHome</div>
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But in the meantime, </div>
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I be in my feelings like Drake getting chosen last at kickball. </div>
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And being a bag of marshmallows is gonna get my thug card revoked so this will have to be our secret, m'kay?</div>
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Has anyone else had this experience? Don't act like it's just me! </div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-32963647425568496022015-07-13T10:38:00.000-05:002015-07-14T16:47:56.396-05:00Friend Request: Thomas Foolery <div style="text-align: center;">
This last week has been surreal. As in, this can't be life. I have been getting lots of male attention (<a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2012/10/mike-jones.html" target="_blank">Mike Jones</a>!) but the level of biscuit behavior (flakiness) and shenanigans is on a hoe notha levah. </div>
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Yet there is one particular occurrence of buffoonery that needs to be told.</div>
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Hair: Protective style </div>
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Dress: <a href="http://us.asos.com/asos/asos-paisley-v-back-shift-dress/prod/pgeproduct.aspx?iid=5026927&clr=Multi&SearchQuery=paisley+v+back+shift+dress&SearchRedirect=true" target="_blank">Asos</a> (On sale!) </div>
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Acrylic bracelets: Om Imports</div>
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Shoes: Jessica Simpson (A couple of seasons ago)</div>
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So I'm on Facebook (I know, AGAIN with the Facebook,) A guy comments on a group post that I am a part of. In all caps. And continues to do so. So I comment and ask said dude what is wrong with him since he is #TeamAllCapsAirythang. He responds that he is joking and we go back and forth and dude then sends a friend request and inbox messages me. (So of course in FacebookLand we go together now.) About two minutes into the inbox convo, I watch in horror as my phone lights up and it says that THE.DUDE.IS.CALLING.ME. Huh? How? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQNN0AzgPWzbkJSkY5ne8gLgkawN5cxn49vlROrjWXTKEHjLs7d2r2DyGu-uJ8eylcSBfZ4zq_8MfxClVYMleny231MlWYEWIy1QdWccROBHR9hBaLIqFZ9W9qhdJPlm4eK7Hvw/s1600/AdobePhotoshopExpress_2015_07_13_02-05-55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQNN0AzgPWzbkJSkY5ne8gLgkawN5cxn49vlROrjWXTKEHjLs7d2r2DyGu-uJ8eylcSBfZ4zq_8MfxClVYMleny231MlWYEWIy1QdWccROBHR9hBaLIqFZ9W9qhdJPlm4eK7Hvw/s640/AdobePhotoshopExpress_2015_07_13_02-05-55.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Unbeknownst to this chick right here, Facebook has a feature where you can call people if their phone number is connected to their Facebook account. Why Sway? I did not know of this! So I message dude and ask "Are you CALLING me?" to which he replies "Yes." So do I ignore the call or tell dude that he didn't even ask to call me? Nope, I answered the call. I am officially a member of #TeamBadDecisions</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPQ4i5WTUIFs0X0ilnYpuXki6u1tM7lOHEbdVPr5jmGsZ_2eLrLD3CkLkjzyqu5TbM4ia4xDgVAx_g7bM4t9qlFFiH56lQMBEi_wBIrc4zm-Kyp6ItGtlokEv5EbpwDS5NEIsyw/s1600/AdobePhotoshopExpress_2015_07_13_01-50-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPQ4i5WTUIFs0X0ilnYpuXki6u1tM7lOHEbdVPr5jmGsZ_2eLrLD3CkLkjzyqu5TbM4ia4xDgVAx_g7bM4t9qlFFiH56lQMBEi_wBIrc4zm-Kyp6ItGtlokEv5EbpwDS5NEIsyw/s640/AdobePhotoshopExpress_2015_07_13_01-50-38.jpg" width="324" /></a></div>
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Okay so apparently Facebook, in all it's disrepectful glory, has also decided to allow not only calls but video calls at that. The call connects. Dude is at home. On the floor. Eating candy, With.....wait for it.....NO EFFING SHIRT ON. You read it correctly. Re-read it if you must. </div>
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Ummmmm.....okay, well I will just tell y'all what happened. I immediately start laughing, but dude (or DWNSO - Dude With No Shirt On as he will be known) is oblivious and starts talking about himself, and how cute I am with my cheekbones, and that I have an oval face. </div>
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DWNSO says that usually people with oval faces look like a spoon but I don't look like a spoon so that's good. </div>
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Did I hang up? I know you are yelling, "Girl, hang up!" But naaaawwwwwwllll I stayed on the phone. So dude proceeds to tell me, in between drinking a beer, that he is "working on" opening a food truck but he doesn't have the truck yet, he is staying with his cousin and her husband, and asks how tall I am."5'8," I say and he tells me that I am taller than him but he don't care because his ex-wife was taller than him too. </div>
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Sir. So you mean to tell me that you are an unemployed cook, with no place to live, who is also shorter than 5 feet 8 inches tall? Oh how I wish this was some kind of cruel Nephew Tommy/Ricky Smiley setup call but it was for true. I have no words. Even when re-telling the story, I can't accurately describe the level of the foolery that I was experiencing. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">But the </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">coup de grâce</span><span style="background-color: white;">, the <span class="syllable" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.1; z-index: 2;">pièce de ré</span><span class="syllable" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.1; z-index: 2;">sis</span><span class="last-syllable" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.1; z-index: 2;">tance, the icing on the gee dee cake was when DWNSO starts relaying to me that he is very successful in the bedroom area. *Insert a more vulgar expression here* as to what he really said. And it was at this point that I had to stop ole dude and tell him that I was gonna let him go. "Huh? What did I do?" he asked. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="last-syllable" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.1; z-index: 2;">Incredulous, I told him that for starters, who calls someone that they've never met with no shirt on?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="last-syllable" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.1; z-index: 2;">"Oh is that all? Why didn't you say so? You should have told me," says dude as he looks around for a shirt to put on. Sir, that is the least of your issues. </span></span></span></div>
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So thankfully the Gods of Monkey Business (or it might have been my finger) disconnects the call and I am trying to figure out what I need to do to get right with the Lord because he is obviously upset with me about something. </div>
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But my misadventures are your gain, share my story with your friends and y'all say a special prayer for your girl. I am going to lay down on the alter with a bag of M&Ms, a bottle of water and a sleeping bag for a slumber party with the Lord, we definitely need to talk.....*</div>
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*This idea was given to me by my friend Val, she feels my pain......</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-26108146204652220842015-07-02T11:42:00.001-05:002015-07-02T11:42:39.449-05:00Spectacular Vernacular<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Although I've had some things that have made me smile (#LoveWins), I've debated about whether I was going to post about the recent going ons in the world that have made my smile turn upside down. I have had that heat up in my chest and had #FacebookWars with small minded people and although I am passionate about current events I've decided not to give any more power to the people who are trying to bring unhappiness into the world. I do however want everyone to stay actively engaged in meaningful conversations about things that affect our world. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUjTFTjO2YI36FPo06K2iwUnkdmFX_14DsZjJRFD92RKd7zmpYtnYjuYPLbM4X0TgWGZLO3MtDDrG5Ozt8Mh58n0zlTPqhrkQ3qBA2edcKkD_epI0kCOHomBqiqKnVFQsPvbvg8Q/s1600/7.1.3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUjTFTjO2YI36FPo06K2iwUnkdmFX_14DsZjJRFD92RKd7zmpYtnYjuYPLbM4X0TgWGZLO3MtDDrG5Ozt8Mh58n0zlTPqhrkQ3qBA2edcKkD_epI0kCOHomBqiqKnVFQsPvbvg8Q/s640/7.1.3.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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(But don't listen to Don Lemon. He is pissing me off.)</div>
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So let's talk vocabulary, shall we? I recently learned what the term'woes' is and I wanted to share, because I believe in Each One Teach One (and it makes me feel with it, okay? Humor me.) Okay, so Drake has a song titled "Know Yourself" and there is a line that says "Running through the 6 with my woes." and I said whatchutawkingboutWillis?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIXumxFgTqO7alB12CMkQotExFZX6TZvGZCl0jXQHgM3QkxfHpS5sYydXBZSmBMPy6c6HbN0HnuvjACViLuT9rzWP_T2F-AU9UWxJ0o8Taz26J5i76tTt1wX0MlR0VRMcZWUlDA/s1600/7.1+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHIXumxFgTqO7alB12CMkQotExFZX6TZvGZCl0jXQHgM3QkxfHpS5sYydXBZSmBMPy6c6HbN0HnuvjACViLuT9rzWP_T2F-AU9UWxJ0o8Taz26J5i76tTt1wX0MlR0VRMcZWUlDA/s640/7.1+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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So according to Urban Dictionary (a bonafide source of intellectual information) woes means "working on excellence" i.e. your crew or your squad. I'm glad that cleared things up, I thought he meant he was sad. #SobbyBrown</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUC8RmLeJ0njgv-s_45YB6n1S8LbGTzzqIuzr5JNt2sDmlO0upPCHnWtaGJoFgjb_VCHvSYzF0zSZN0c8ENRkWP8gMvqecA8pqyWxZ4RebndUkosSqpWQJZmuxCLurOAM4jfjHVg/s1600/7.1.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUC8RmLeJ0njgv-s_45YB6n1S8LbGTzzqIuzr5JNt2sDmlO0upPCHnWtaGJoFgjb_VCHvSYzF0zSZN0c8ENRkWP8gMvqecA8pqyWxZ4RebndUkosSqpWQJZmuxCLurOAM4jfjHVg/s640/7.1.2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Top: Asos</div>
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Pants: Marshalls</div>
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Bracelets: Om Imports (I think)</div>
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Sandals: Sam Edelman</div>
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Don't shoot the messenger my friend......<br />
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Oh yeah and speaking of Drake, he has a <a href="http://bossip.com/1161434/postbadbeards-drakes-new-luxurious-facial-hair-has-the-internet-going-nuts/" target="_blank"><b>beard</b></a> now. No, I mean an actual beard that grows on his face. And I like it. Like, a lot. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-60122450659357740762015-06-25T23:38:00.000-05:002015-06-25T23:38:15.128-05:00Rules of Engagement<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5msG-UMRwxwBHcdWnWdeIdhomW8HqFmDouzEHw5_XZmvJWvSlL8ullRJAZn7-Sni2WCjKKXaZ1J-ea_HpUhWuhUJrYOWUsW8pFYzji-z2THhTZDr2k9P-VK3-pnMuWns5xE1Tdw/s1600/IMG_2496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5msG-UMRwxwBHcdWnWdeIdhomW8HqFmDouzEHw5_XZmvJWvSlL8ullRJAZn7-Sni2WCjKKXaZ1J-ea_HpUhWuhUJrYOWUsW8pFYzji-z2THhTZDr2k9P-VK3-pnMuWns5xE1Tdw/s640/IMG_2496.JPG" width="456" /></a></div>
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Two posts in one week!!! <i><b>Who's</b></i> awesome????</div>
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Let's talk about social media shall we? </div>
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More specifically, how to win friends and influence people without being lame. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-or1nwLgIyzU2purBTRbqQ4QQemMQYBFs0T3xtX4U38c9v1_dHUR9i5GSwOUS0HX-reE7M8oMIMl_EJcN9LzcRGT5XFjrwBylCLGAk31Hg5ltHnx67VTZmAtA9b3FY2_R8R6_sg/s1600/IMG_2513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-or1nwLgIyzU2purBTRbqQ4QQemMQYBFs0T3xtX4U38c9v1_dHUR9i5GSwOUS0HX-reE7M8oMIMl_EJcN9LzcRGT5XFjrwBylCLGAk31Hg5ltHnx67VTZmAtA9b3FY2_R8R6_sg/s640/IMG_2513.JPG" width="450" /></a></div>
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Is Facebook the new Christian Blend, Matchbox dot com, Oodles of Cod, He'll Do Cupid, C Minus Harmony? I do not normally accept friend requests unless I know you #InRealLife or if we have a mutual friend I will ask them about you before I accept the request. So maybe I'm a little slow on the uptake but is accepting a friend request a big deal? Is a friend request like a guy asking you out on a date and if I accept then we go together? Is it the equivalent of inviting a stranger into my home and they open my refrigerator and drink my root beer straight from the container? </div>
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#INeedsToKnow</div>
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Let me find out Facebook has my photo on a </div>
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Facebook Dating App or something......</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLih5dAM0Nmx6_gE0ndcsq4JAlRrwHVpv28lSCb8suQy8kLgFGY7IaXX3UsrIZb_XSzK-QNGB0a0u0t4_3J0vdG3Z1t8R4Pgi1Ry1bqJ9nEkv8Hm9Ltmg7BtPbd_MtVW-OVvxkFA/s1600/IMG_2512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLih5dAM0Nmx6_gE0ndcsq4JAlRrwHVpv28lSCb8suQy8kLgFGY7IaXX3UsrIZb_XSzK-QNGB0a0u0t4_3J0vdG3Z1t8R4Pgi1Ry1bqJ9nEkv8Hm9Ltmg7BtPbd_MtVW-OVvxkFA/s640/IMG_2512.JPG" width="472" /></a></div>
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Necklace: Dillards</div>
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Top: Zara (On sale)</div>
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Shorts: J.C. Penney</div>
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Bracelets: Various</div>
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Sandals: Guess</div>
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Also, why are people using so much punctuation in their posts? Does.it.become.more.important.if.you.use.a.period.after.each.word? </div>
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And who has the time to do all of that??? One post could take half an hour! People out here using punctuation all willy nilly these days, like periods and commas don't mean NUTHIN to'em! </div>
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So disrespectful.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOoZF7D0IgGg8lQbuolJdp2YpUuM-3_tAKFUZb9G3BqCs15sDaD_5zw0o887GoQuBe9uBBv8NsTszelp6AuWKxK2XGeItJuMD9kStVCsLqQwVsaG_-rPWKyiwCh_mKL7nKs9yoSg/s1600/IMG_2514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOoZF7D0IgGg8lQbuolJdp2YpUuM-3_tAKFUZb9G3BqCs15sDaD_5zw0o887GoQuBe9uBBv8NsTszelp6AuWKxK2XGeItJuMD9kStVCsLqQwVsaG_-rPWKyiwCh_mKL7nKs9yoSg/s640/IMG_2514.JPG" width="506" /></a></div>
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I like Instagram because it's amusing to me and there's less room for people to mess up cuz it's photos. But unless taking pictures of food is your actual job, please stop. It just doesn't translate well on Instagram, even when you filter it. But if you MUST (because I know that some of y'all don't listen), at least make sure your food matches. Like peanut butter and jelly, bacon and eggs, those match, right? </div>
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But no one wants to see your chocolate pudding and mustard on a waffle cone please. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJDub4wKyJqp0FXeyQoI0yX0_DpQJrCD4xbY7yruxSQfxuoN1j1H5A9xKfDK3hZFeoXrMilHziUUTyOWE_mkf1xQ8m0ibJx1RlDGQDSSktb2DvT1B2S331enaSCYuV27Od7zaYQ/s1600/6.25+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJDub4wKyJqp0FXeyQoI0yX0_DpQJrCD4xbY7yruxSQfxuoN1j1H5A9xKfDK3hZFeoXrMilHziUUTyOWE_mkf1xQ8m0ibJx1RlDGQDSSktb2DvT1B2S331enaSCYuV27Od7zaYQ/s640/6.25+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Also, if a woman tells a
guy that she is an Instagram Model then she is probably a dude in real life. If
you are a guy dating an Instagram model then you are just begging to appear on an
episode of Catfish and I'll be home watching like "I tried to tell him
through my blog." I also need to know how Instagram models get paid, and
are there Instagram Model Scouts now? "Excuse me, maam? I saw your
inappropriate photos on Instagram with the sepia filter and I love your look!
Here's my card......"</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOEos8emMWthOt6JrfnD8S5IFNgqc1ivRcZtU-hvaZDn8lSf83VUCy-lLoGYtMcmGv9rfOTSzEYpaOq8dCRoayAw7GV9rBa23xTNr41eePhXayC4Ock2-RVp62mY8HgKlJRcFOxg/s1600/AdobePhotoshopExpress_2015_06_25_20-27-00.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOEos8emMWthOt6JrfnD8S5IFNgqc1ivRcZtU-hvaZDn8lSf83VUCy-lLoGYtMcmGv9rfOTSzEYpaOq8dCRoayAw7GV9rBa23xTNr41eePhXayC4Ock2-RVp62mY8HgKlJRcFOxg/s400/AdobePhotoshopExpress_2015_06_25_20-27-00.jpg" width="368" /></a></div>
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Now of course social media is all in how you use it, I have met some of the best people I know courtesy of the internets. Yet nothing takes the place of that genuine human interaction </div>
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(says the girl with the blog lol.) So put the phone down, get out and meet some people #InREALLife.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-87456339233735130202015-06-21T22:08:00.000-05:002015-06-21T22:08:19.857-05:00Naps: I Take That<div style="text-align: center;">
Who does a blog post 875834573586756734589453282 years later??? I do, that's who. Don't judge me. Well you can, just don't tell me to my face. Hmmmmmm, what can I say about my absence? I could come up with something deep and poetic about "getting my energy balanced" (which is true) but let's just say that I didn't feel like it and leave it at that. </div>
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Now on to this here blog post.....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HwJq_BUx7343qQU_G9mU5bwlUqz1pV2KhfpGOVVlC_fBZptdjbs8YYufNrT8Uot8QwaixwsaGwMoqBtojKeL46m9BPQfru0QHuvcxfGB8fWaooALAqq-w3rRqaQaC6RbUWdXJg/s1600/IMG_2299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HwJq_BUx7343qQU_G9mU5bwlUqz1pV2KhfpGOVVlC_fBZptdjbs8YYufNrT8Uot8QwaixwsaGwMoqBtojKeL46m9BPQfru0QHuvcxfGB8fWaooALAqq-w3rRqaQaC6RbUWdXJg/s400/IMG_2299.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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I've missed y'all. I've been on social media (okay Instagram mostly and my personal Facebook page) but nothing compares to talking to y'all in my head. Y'all GET me, We've been together a long time, y'all and I. I've been bouncing around ideas about starting a new blog but until I get it right in my head, I'll update here. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipT8_b3mZ2zDkeHLAxvC0D1ihyphenhyphenb72apJo51zA2FXp_Z2jvAB9848Q5vcD-HpGTRAdkfWFs_kQAYBiAH3p5t6WTtUhH23AX2isSpSJ317RhlscMU60QaLEBnJ2TbXWG3aPyLNWy3Q/s1600/fd5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipT8_b3mZ2zDkeHLAxvC0D1ihyphenhyphenb72apJo51zA2FXp_Z2jvAB9848Q5vcD-HpGTRAdkfWFs_kQAYBiAH3p5t6WTtUhH23AX2isSpSJ317RhlscMU60QaLEBnJ2TbXWG3aPyLNWy3Q/s400/fd5.jpg" width="321" /></a></div>
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The past two weeks have been surreal. Bruce Jenner is a woman and looks better than his ex-wife, police officers are overreacting and manhandling kids at a pool party, and a white woman (a WHITE woman y'all) is outchea pretending to be black! Everyone keeps saying that she's crazy and I'm inclined to agree because doesn't she know that she can get a lower interest rate on her mortgage if she was white? Foolery and nonsense abounds. <a href="http://godsfavoriteshoes.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Reiko</a> and I have decided that if everyone would take more naps, 99% of the world's problems would be fixed. </div>
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Had a bad day at work? Take a nap. Flat tire? Nap. Kim Kardashian being foolish with her pregnancy wardrobe (again)? Take two naps for that one and try to ignore her. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBKddXAcIb6LrVawYFyf_xIu12yhVhMgyI7ehA4Rp_e-ncaAuo4NCX1AIA0kw-ieeRUOMIXYE0FvGkQovon5HV0SxhyphenhyphenzLoGNeo6L_9r5ziCs2FSKqYlyb_KiFLyo5GVz5SRWyhQ/s1600/fd4+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFBKddXAcIb6LrVawYFyf_xIu12yhVhMgyI7ehA4Rp_e-ncaAuo4NCX1AIA0kw-ieeRUOMIXYE0FvGkQovon5HV0SxhyphenhyphenzLoGNeo6L_9r5ziCs2FSKqYlyb_KiFLyo5GVz5SRWyhQ/s400/fd4+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Scarves: H&M</div>
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Glasses: Warby Parker</div>
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Bracelets: Om Imports </div>
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Made By God tee: Forever 21</div>
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Jean shorts: Old </div>
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Don't believe me that naps are good for you? Read <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/11/nap-benefits-national-napping-day_n_2830952.html" target="_blank"><b>this</b></a> and <a href="http://www.artofmanliness.com/2011/02/07/unleash-the-power-of-the-nap/" target="_blank"><b>this</b></a> and thank me later. But don't sleep too long, if you sleep for longer than 45 minutes, it's no longer a nap. You just went to sleep. </div>
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And there's nothing worse than napping too long and waking up not knowing </div>
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whether it's morning or night. </div>
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Just me? Oh.......</div>
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Follow me on the 'gram <a href="https://instagram.com/fashionnettework/" target="_blank"><b>HERE</b></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-87311469899272772682014-07-21T17:35:00.000-05:002014-07-21T18:21:32.912-05:00Mojo<div style="text-align: center;">
Ummmmm yeah, so I figured I needed to do a blog post so that y'all would know that I didn't get dead on my date......</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnLtMbldTsjXLupclwWCx1l-zd5sJJHeuEeiQxz3fZkhYl_-1v71s16dAfiQlmQ_dT8K3IZ84M4IUlYWTyzUOijDea4jwCZZNtPwElwIE76YZ_MJhErcmZVny54aR41FfV1BiVA/s1600/7.21.4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnLtMbldTsjXLupclwWCx1l-zd5sJJHeuEeiQxz3fZkhYl_-1v71s16dAfiQlmQ_dT8K3IZ84M4IUlYWTyzUOijDea4jwCZZNtPwElwIE76YZ_MJhErcmZVny54aR41FfV1BiVA/s1600/7.21.4.jpg" height="400" width="396" /></a></div>
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If you follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/p/qat4Yxl4XN/?modal=true" target="_blank">Instagram</a> then you know that my date went well.
Actually better than well. It has been a month and there hasn't been
more than two days where we haven't seen one another.
I don't know what is better than getting your mojo back but that's what
I got. </div>
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I guess you could say that I got my life so hard. </div>
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Scarf (on head): American Apparel</div>
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Tee: <a href="http://www.pardonmyfro.com/" target="_blank">Pardon My Fro</a> </div>
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Skirt: Forever 21</div>
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Sandals: Madden Girl </div>
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I gotta admit, I'm that mushy, gushy, "I missed your face today" kinda
chick right about now. That wake up smiling, dancing in the shower, Lovely
Day singing woman. And I love it. It's as if the stars have aligned,
that all of the heartache and missteps have prepared me for this time in
my life. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoF_ZdEd-48jPCCTjRslihg1d7LKwgB916vyHYvq7Aq9Q550KBQIB_Shm3yCaOAWcEGzq6ah6IS_ujlIxWWpziJceschzSMo5Yhsz_0FunrBiIKkailfHm05L7qMFQP_-kjFT30g/s1600/7.21.2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoF_ZdEd-48jPCCTjRslihg1d7LKwgB916vyHYvq7Aq9Q550KBQIB_Shm3yCaOAWcEGzq6ah6IS_ujlIxWWpziJceschzSMo5Yhsz_0FunrBiIKkailfHm05L7qMFQP_-kjFT30g/s1600/7.21.2.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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He is a breath of fresh air, a whirlwind of energy, and he makes me feel that I am the most important person in the room. Our personalities are similar, he's outgoing, intelligent and pretty darn amusing and his two best qualities: He's tall (!) and he loves Jay-Z!!!! Like we get hype and rap Jay songs together in the car. #LookAtGawd #DropsTheMicAndDoesTheTootsieRoll </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRQ-3M_01fZK8eOrfmV0b6yURfORCtKfDDfqDH-IdE9ii4V8UXzybZ4v6qHUce32nUGTTzAyXTsQeLN7Kx4Y0VOfFIL92N6m4T8T3WDrzsjPYreWX6wIFzga89Il8zFZ-vApQz6g/s1600/7.21.3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRQ-3M_01fZK8eOrfmV0b6yURfORCtKfDDfqDH-IdE9ii4V8UXzybZ4v6qHUce32nUGTTzAyXTsQeLN7Kx4Y0VOfFIL92N6m4T8T3WDrzsjPYreWX6wIFzga89Il8zFZ-vApQz6g/s1600/7.21.3.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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I don't know what the future holds but I am definitely here for all of it. Absolutely. </div>
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"I guess I got my swagger back." ~Jay-Z </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-61324214197138089212014-06-19T10:15:00.001-05:002014-06-19T10:17:08.620-05:00Kiss and Tell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Do people kiss on the first date? </div>
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That's a serious question. Y'all know I don't know what's hot in the streets so I wanna know if that's what's going down these days. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfDa2z3ixAsJH_efNn_VhIXpcfQeKWFX7ZLBZdTt6JLTGDf0pXZM5lcyx9KfQKFNrgsWZHko6Q3oxOIZaeIV08ef4C4OuuWlyGujIZKqx6d3U4-V339lTb7qZs9f1G9hrRZq5OIw/s1600/6.15.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfDa2z3ixAsJH_efNn_VhIXpcfQeKWFX7ZLBZdTt6JLTGDf0pXZM5lcyx9KfQKFNrgsWZHko6Q3oxOIZaeIV08ef4C4OuuWlyGujIZKqx6d3U4-V339lTb7qZs9f1G9hrRZq5OIw/s1600/6.15.4.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
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I has many questions. </div>
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How long do you wait before you Google the person? </div>
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(Don't act like it's just me.) I ain't the only one who thinks God made Google for a reason. </div>
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But then I am always afraid of dudes Googling me and finding my blog before I tell them. I don't like the idea of them reading it before I'm ready. So maybe I shouldn't be Googling folks? #Hush<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHZ1eU4IQTAhGLJgiRfSEqSK3BnUgtbT7-f06netKXs9Inqrfb6hYR54Dh2JqRi-ptxNN24s_rVJKoEoIefZ5dQpSmL1woA76pjF5YpZo3JAk34lw494bZ4eOBRNFwv6EDXoGwg/s1600/6.15.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHZ1eU4IQTAhGLJgiRfSEqSK3BnUgtbT7-f06netKXs9Inqrfb6hYR54Dh2JqRi-ptxNN24s_rVJKoEoIefZ5dQpSmL1woA76pjF5YpZo3JAk34lw494bZ4eOBRNFwv6EDXoGwg/s1600/6.15.2.jpg" height="640" width="334" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOe0Ng4WpUjlcTcoWgswh51Koa_6V_HXyXWMH7NImEi4vsfBy14A_VMz7Ux5OHQ8tQW_rzlWwCtSLes0PFggRbeGRoR27Mkx5Tz24uXcVcavC_7kYy1HYnq_fUlluQddYByYQ5tw/s1600/6.15.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> How soon do you become Facebook friends? Do you even become Facebook friends? How soon before you share that you like ratchet music? </div>
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Dress: Gap</div>
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Bag: Prada</div>
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Shoes: BCBG </div>
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I really need to know bout this kissing thing! For research purposes of course.....So let a sistah know.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-11247479409939281452014-05-26T12:24:00.000-05:002014-05-26T13:15:42.740-05:00Imperfect <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW2hAap3tM92qlYboeSd4K90moWuTQF9arztZSV8dVHGTsd-uF3o5RDjSPH8cfzlu_dEJNkNCgUaX3FCG4-9Q5pYOUn_zvh3k9wVV-7Wq1JzEQ4BXrTsUBFM_nmzYHofPqcth8A/s1600/5.26.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQW2hAap3tM92qlYboeSd4K90moWuTQF9arztZSV8dVHGTsd-uF3o5RDjSPH8cfzlu_dEJNkNCgUaX3FCG4-9Q5pYOUn_zvh3k9wVV-7Wq1JzEQ4BXrTsUBFM_nmzYHofPqcth8A/s1600/5.26.4.jpg" height="640" width="278" /></a></div>
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Let someone love you just the way you are - as flawed as you might be,
as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you
think you are. </div>
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To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out
of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than
perfect, </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dress: Asos</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Belt: Forever 21</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Bag: Prada</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sunglasses: Target</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Shoes: Gianni Bini </span><br />
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...is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering </div>
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a broken window and illuminating a dark room. ~Marc Hack</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-66791250298147817032014-05-16T10:59:00.000-05:002014-05-16T10:59:45.066-05:00Enthusiast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I looked up the definition of enthusiast and it said "a person who feels enthusiasm for something; a person who enjoys something very much." </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFPNBa7_OZhPtx_Y2-sUbkfNL-JD_cmAQVhWD3OpzrkZLdlViIGoK108ecRlXvhBKLMVDqi6xJCqMEerXR6QlF2serp_4NAO5Q6QUWX2EwwwAeh1eekDv5kPJ8yWGLM0XLAw-_g/s1600/5.15.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFPNBa7_OZhPtx_Y2-sUbkfNL-JD_cmAQVhWD3OpzrkZLdlViIGoK108ecRlXvhBKLMVDqi6xJCqMEerXR6QlF2serp_4NAO5Q6QUWX2EwwwAeh1eekDv5kPJ8yWGLM0XLAw-_g/s1600/5.15.2.jpg" height="640" width="244" /></a></div>
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Hello. My name is Juanette. And I am an enthusiast. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJlhXuhlakvuR3XUKWrwrMgO4aaG_kwQMvQg_ohbJk0ywJPV_0uNrg40t-m9cYarLNjHbV0R4B-7eVytxEd2jLfQJFxDYvKmFDt8QxvKOtPYSXKddsEVsXGL8nO1hRTC45n02Gw/s1600/5.15.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJlhXuhlakvuR3XUKWrwrMgO4aaG_kwQMvQg_ohbJk0ywJPV_0uNrg40t-m9cYarLNjHbV0R4B-7eVytxEd2jLfQJFxDYvKmFDt8QxvKOtPYSXKddsEVsXGL8nO1hRTC45n02Gw/s1600/5.15.4.jpg" height="640" width="258" /></a></div>
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But I think that I am an enthusiast of <i>everything</i>. I feel everything on such an emotional level. I am an enthusiastic dancer, singer and crier. I do them all with gusto. </div>
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You <strong>HAVE</strong> to sing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, right? Isn't that a rule somewhere? </div>
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To me it is important to feel everything. Feel it completely and deeply. </div>
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If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands, damn it! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW9iHp9jhJzSc2Kbf2xgzHUjB47R_Ty8PCCGh1DFXFjb8K2wI5AtvCz2EY4MEytCwmRyPuec0zqV_-dVSsMR_sG7hW8WuaIqkim-QBWCKSBVv3-ry4kuV3GaJDdMDpItsxtHQDA/s1600/5.15.6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW9iHp9jhJzSc2Kbf2xgzHUjB47R_Ty8PCCGh1DFXFjb8K2wI5AtvCz2EY4MEytCwmRyPuec0zqV_-dVSsMR_sG7hW8WuaIqkim-QBWCKSBVv3-ry4kuV3GaJDdMDpItsxtHQDA/s1600/5.15.6.jpg" height="640" width="228" /></a></div>
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Jumpsuit: Asos </div>
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Bag: Prada</div>
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Bracelets: Random accessory store </div>
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Sandals: Marshalls</div>
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I don't want to sell my spirit short by not living in each moment. <br />
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“I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life...if you are interested in something, no matter what it is, go at it at full speed ahead. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good. Hot is no good either. White hot and passionate is the only thing to be.” ~Roald Dahl</div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-27771230596806458822014-05-13T12:03:00.000-05:002015-07-23T21:14:50.395-05:00The Darnedest Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had my kids create a mock resume for Career Week last week. One student listed under qualifications that he has great abs. Another wrote that he is able to hack into other computer networks. I told him that it is probably not a selling point to admit that he is committing crimes when applying for a job. <br />
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A student told me that his dad told him to go out with fat girls because they buy you anything you want. *Picture me giving him the stink face here* Why of all things would you tell your child that? Not respect women, treat them like you would want someone to treat your mom or sister but you mean to tell me that the best advice you can give your kid is to tell him how to manipulate women? </div>
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I told that my student that I didn't agree with that advice and that he needed to work and pay for his own stuff. I hope he tells his dad. </div>
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I overheard one student telling another student <br />
"Boy! You get in trouble every single day! You might need to get baptized again." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDT9QN59t6ZLS4ZjrSkZwSqhgPCrIWAnBRVphXsqjjGlv7t_44znFCpO_gvBLSDiImAyBU8YPSJeVq0pMpTCYkKXe022qgRJ0SYi4ZtBviaULKpkpiSpHXfd2UlFVU4J7l6aShiw/s1600/5.12+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDT9QN59t6ZLS4ZjrSkZwSqhgPCrIWAnBRVphXsqjjGlv7t_44znFCpO_gvBLSDiImAyBU8YPSJeVq0pMpTCYkKXe022qgRJ0SYi4ZtBviaULKpkpiSpHXfd2UlFVU4J7l6aShiw/s1600/5.12+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" width="498" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDT9QN59t6ZLS4ZjrSkZwSqhgPCrIWAnBRVphXsqjjGlv7t_44znFCpO_gvBLSDiImAyBU8YPSJeVq0pMpTCYkKXe022qgRJ0SYi4ZtBviaULKpkpiSpHXfd2UlFVU4J7l6aShiw/s1600/5.12+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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My students are also writing a research paper and they had to write down their topics that they chose. One student wrote "ho daddy". I asked him what was a ho daddy and he told me that it was a mythical creature but all I kept thinking was that this sounded like an another word for a pimp. I Googled it and ho daddy is a slang term for someone who likes to surf and hangs out on the beach but I like my definition better.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQok7H1sdfRhcFv3xb76uQOgVITKMOA0KSTeOrMVGhIjHTdIxra2WdkVzTg24VjP3fd4-5k4QCtvTpEf6AgvjHr7_2lh_iLi5SrW_bqNltbQfUsN7j90yEpoM21jt9t2MAaNvmRg/s1600/5.12.6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQok7H1sdfRhcFv3xb76uQOgVITKMOA0KSTeOrMVGhIjHTdIxra2WdkVzTg24VjP3fd4-5k4QCtvTpEf6AgvjHr7_2lh_iLi5SrW_bqNltbQfUsN7j90yEpoM21jt9t2MAaNvmRg/s1600/5.12.6.jpg" width="344" /></a></div>
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Shirt: Thrifted</div>
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Skirt: Demestiks NYC (Etsy)</div>
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Bracelets: Random jewelry store in Dallas</div>
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Shoes: Gianni Bini</div>
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Laugh: Genuine </div>
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I recently had to do something that I dreaded facing for months and turns out, </div>
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it wasn't so bad. </div>
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I got through it. </div>
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And I am still alive.</div>
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“Kids. You gotta love them. I adore children. A little salt, a squeeze of lemon--perfect.” ~Jim Butcher</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-75714698281985753942014-04-14T10:42:00.001-05:002014-04-14T14:10:35.598-05:00That Time When....I Was Teacher of the Year?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvqwI9kkcH4ILIcNnAsmoIkKrY6bm2blq8bHx9CeVJlNvjR9Eas5j7209-6-jX1zrK0aY2zB5mhJMDUKy6jZTQGI5eK8KAzNwmfgkzsMqK1xwPfhyphenhyphenEP23HLckr3VoX6WQK1zX4A/s1600/4.13.4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvqwI9kkcH4ILIcNnAsmoIkKrY6bm2blq8bHx9CeVJlNvjR9Eas5j7209-6-jX1zrK0aY2zB5mhJMDUKy6jZTQGI5eK8KAzNwmfgkzsMqK1xwPfhyphenhyphenEP23HLckr3VoX6WQK1zX4A/s1600/4.13.4.jpg" height="640" width="480" /> </a></div>
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I won teacher of the year at my campus. </div>
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I KNOW, huh??? </div>
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I put in a lot of hours at work and I've said before that teaching is the hardest job I've ever had. I am profoundly grateful for the honor and must admit that I got a little teary when I thought about my life just prior to teaching. </div>
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I was a substitute teacher for two years and worked second jobs in order to make ends meet while I went and got certified to teach and looked for a teaching job. I had always fought against teaching even though my stepdad always advised me to get my teaching certificate as "something to fall back on" but I was adamant that teaching just wasn't for me. I had worked with students in truancy settings for about eight years so working with kids wasn't foreign to me but I just wasn't sure how well I would do with the same students on a daily basis. I knew it was a big commitment but once I started subbing I realized that teaching was something that I wanted to do so I began the process of finding an alternative certification teaching program. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEVKoT1i8eN8xyUhvU2rI158V2opgFlGkOSoMhVFxEh-KnH81S8PvaPembYO67Ssu4QYqzRbjydCBxC7sq_l1r9kMnWDZYmxgLoBuOB_ddS2PCEB5wbR3bRGYBNUiYIHNcH7ozAg/s1600/4.13.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEVKoT1i8eN8xyUhvU2rI158V2opgFlGkOSoMhVFxEh-KnH81S8PvaPembYO67Ssu4QYqzRbjydCBxC7sq_l1r9kMnWDZYmxgLoBuOB_ddS2PCEB5wbR3bRGYBNUiYIHNcH7ozAg/s1600/4.13.5.jpg" height="640" width="294" /></a></div>
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During this time my air conditioning had gone out in my car and I had zero dollars to fix it; I was working two jobs and still struggled every month so this was an expense that I couldn't afford to pay for. So I had NO air conditioning in my car. In the summer. In Texas. THEN I understood why they said that the crime rate went up in the summer, I would be soooooooo mad whenever I had to drive, especially if it was in the heat of the day. Talk about ANGRY! I would take my clothes to work and change when I got there because I would be so hot and sweaty by the time I arrived. </div>
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Whenever I would get down, or feel that I didn't know where to turn, things would always seem to work themselves out. I remember once just having myself a good old woe-is-me, life for me ain't been no crystal stair kinda cry and then went to check my mail and someone had sent me a $100 check. That $100 was like $1000 to me, because I literally had to account for every amount of money that I spent, there was no room for error. I was blogging then but I never shared my story because it just seemed so personal to me, to share that I wore so many thrifted items because I couldn't afford to shop anywhere else. (E'em though I had cute thrifted stuff but a sister still wanted to be able to go to the mall every now and then.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEVKoT1i8eN8xyUhvU2rI158V2opgFlGkOSoMhVFxEh-KnH81S8PvaPembYO67Ssu4QYqzRbjydCBxC7sq_l1r9kMnWDZYmxgLoBuOB_ddS2PCEB5wbR3bRGYBNUiYIHNcH7ozAg/s1600/4.13.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> But now I realize that my situation was meant to share, that whole experience actually strengthened my faith in so many ways. </div>
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That experience was humbling, it was difficult, and it was also a testament to God's grace. </div>
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At one point I had packed up my things and made arrangements to move back with my mom for a while because I was so weary from the struggle. I desperately needed a break. A friend advised me to take ten minutes and pray about what I really wanted and I prayed that God would work things out for me and give me what I was asking for, which was a teaching job. Once I made the decision to stay I really felt a sense of peace. So I held on a few more months and when I had the interview at my school I instinctively knew that this was my school. And it was. </div>
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A book that I carry in my bag on a daily basis is called Write It Down, Make It Happen, it is based on the Bible verse "Write the vision and make it plain." It is a book about goal setting and visualizing our goals and what you 'see' you can manifest. Before school began for me this year I made a list of personal and professional goals that I wanted to achieve and one of the things that I wrote down and didn't share with anyone was that I would be Teacher of the Year. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9P8CDZV83iYFbzHCUmvJQhfEk2WrRgIpWjGtxuLwFpERW-qh4X_RpgRjWJYeNMuSUgJYF-ize4itMnovuWKziBMRYZUy9afQD_FOg91xi_2sdQbRKrfhQ3y9c6w3VQ8tvnrJYg/s1600/4.13.7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9P8CDZV83iYFbzHCUmvJQhfEk2WrRgIpWjGtxuLwFpERW-qh4X_RpgRjWJYeNMuSUgJYF-ize4itMnovuWKziBMRYZUy9afQD_FOg91xi_2sdQbRKrfhQ3y9c6w3VQ8tvnrJYg/s1600/4.13.7.jpg" height="640" width="438" /></a></div>
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Glasses: Warby Parker</div>
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Shirt: Thrifted</div>
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Skirt: Etsy (I had to get this altered, it was waaaaayyy too big and long)</div>
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Shoes: Gianni Bini</div>
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Bag: Christmas gift from my sister</div>
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This has happened quite a bit since I have read the book, last year I wrote down that I wanted to visit New York again (and Philly, but that hasn't happened yet) and I won the People magazine contest and my trip to New York! I guess I need to write down more stuff about my love life (although some of the things that I've written have manifested as well, just not to my satisfaction.) So just like I tell my students, what you envision for yourself and work towards should be limitless, don't put parameters on anything that you desire to do. It is all possible. I wanted to share my story in the hope that it can possibly bless someone else....</div>
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"Choose your thoughts carefully, you are a masterpiece of your life." <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-27956244363459405172014-04-09T19:01:00.001-05:002014-04-10T05:48:02.121-05:00That Time When....I Admitted Stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRhORqLKDk6lGkynypKofqvoxNW9lIvLjzb7vtiwFTK4Y0GPtD4UuqhwOOf3gSzhmnDbirK8knYsOHR4RNKs35aK-2vCtQoGoS-O1-TnxY0kMNZU5kiZKhXZeixCP4LeBwDODlw/s1600/4.7+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRhORqLKDk6lGkynypKofqvoxNW9lIvLjzb7vtiwFTK4Y0GPtD4UuqhwOOf3gSzhmnDbirK8knYsOHR4RNKs35aK-2vCtQoGoS-O1-TnxY0kMNZU5kiZKhXZeixCP4LeBwDODlw/s1600/4.7+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="640" width="402" /></a></div>
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I'm still getting knocked down. But it's okay. This tee shirt helps. :-) </div>
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Y'all know that we are friends. right? So you know I have to tell y'all about all this stuff that's on my mind....</div>
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Confession #1: I think that I watch waaaaaaayyyyy too much Investigation Discovery. I used to be all about The Good Wife and documentaries but ever since ID came into my life I don't e'em have enough time for everything. I don't want to end up on an episode of "Obsessed: Dark Desire Who The *&#%$ Did I Marry Nightmare Next Door Evil Twins" so I want to ask all people that I meet to politely show me a photo of their driver's license. #Sorry #IWontBeSorry</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9PSJWztBDdXioK_Bv_Jt34-GOJCbzkOQ_tdB9aZyKr50Vd3fYoKtMHMzsqwZTR33rvTbVStEkpwoLWxH4BNAGDNhwwPoD_648Xd2pn5SoV2Di0izbnvLBUgaJQ_9rmEZKd00Kdw/s1600/4.7.7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9PSJWztBDdXioK_Bv_Jt34-GOJCbzkOQ_tdB9aZyKr50Vd3fYoKtMHMzsqwZTR33rvTbVStEkpwoLWxH4BNAGDNhwwPoD_648Xd2pn5SoV2Di0izbnvLBUgaJQ_9rmEZKd00Kdw/s1600/4.7.7.jpg" height="640" width="334" /></a></div>
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Confession #2: The thought of small talk makes me want to hurl myself in front of a bus. No, seriously. Discussions that make me think really do it for me. Conversation really is a lost art and not one that most people do well. I am keen on exchanges that flow from one topic to another, not forced or planned, I think that you find out more about a person's thought processes that way. Small talk makes me want to pluck out my arm hairs one by one or listen to Kanye talk about Kim Kardashian, so you know that I am serious about my dislike of this. Give me a scintillating conversation about <a href="http://www.economist.com/blogs/johnson/2013/04/code-switching" target="_blank">code-switching</a>, what advice to give young black males about how to handle racial profiling, or <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/09/t-magazine/the-house-that-hova-built.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0" target="_blank">the interview</a> that Zadie Smith did with Jay-Z and I am </div>
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ALL ABOUT THAT LIFE. </div>
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Glasses: <a href="http://www.bonlook.com/eyewear/la-marquise" target="_blank">BonLook Marquise</a></div>
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Tee: Zara</div>
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Sweater: Target</div>
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Skirt: Forever 21</div>
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Shoes: Zara</div>
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Confession #3: I lost focus. I am reading a book that discusses how we sometimes get so infatuated with someone that we ignore their faults and only focus on the physical attraction that we feel when we should really choose a mate based on character. Someone that we respect and that our friends and family would respect, not just because they foine. (Yes, I said <em>foine</em>.) I must admit that I probably haven't completely thought about that with my last few dating experiences because based on the person's character they should not have been the chosen ones. I think that I relied on the 'connection' more than anything else but that does not necessarily mean that you should be with that person. It also talks about how we use the "I'mma just wait on God" approach when we should be proactive and intentional in our journey. Just like when you apply for other jobs and opportunities you have to put yourself in situations where you can be found. I can dig that. </div>
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And just when you think that I am a serious deep-minded thinker, I gotta show you that I am really petty and share this video: </div>
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<a href="http://m.worldstarhiphop.com/apple/video.php?v=wshhWcmKoOK0yOtoiKD3" id="yui_3_13_0_1_1397060873087_1791" target="_blank">http://m.worldstarhiphop.com/apple/video.php?v=wshhWcmKoOK0yOtoiKD3</a></div>
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He said pretzel stick as a letter? Tree branch! To the right! Other people's foolishness is my gain....</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-56535308426277157152014-03-26T18:17:00.001-05:002014-04-10T08:57:33.948-05:00Fragile<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey y'all. I know. It's been a minute....</div>
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I must admit that my disposition has been lower than a snail's stomach the past couple of months. I started off the year in a not so great place emotionally and it sunk even lower than that. I have been praying and writing and keeping myself closed off to the point where I felt like I wanted to disappear. </div>
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I am still fragile, not 100 percent yet but I am focusing on being thankful. </div>
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Sweater: Marshalls</div>
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Skirt: H&M</div>
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Bag: Zara</div>
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Tights: Target</div>
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Shoes: Michael Kors</div>
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Hair: Braidout using MyHoneyChild Twist Out</div>
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There are so many others who have it worse than I do and I realized that it was selfish of me not to be cognizant of other people's struggles. With all of the problems that are affecting people, </div>
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who am I not to be grateful? I am living and loving my way through this life as best I can. </div>
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You only get one shot at it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAIvENaeZ4KorcMZ4GcQA1PWZpXoSmcXtQeKIQqQio4Gcji0y2FA_dBu3bnPTEpTjAAPXYw7KxoQaUqnAJ8hBTBOqj5ag0nfq3jvypFSFcEsLK_gIOX2ECwqe-gJOqvDX_DOdHA/s1600/3.23.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAIvENaeZ4KorcMZ4GcQA1PWZpXoSmcXtQeKIQqQio4Gcji0y2FA_dBu3bnPTEpTjAAPXYw7KxoQaUqnAJ8hBTBOqj5ag0nfq3jvypFSFcEsLK_gIOX2ECwqe-gJOqvDX_DOdHA/s1600/3.23.2.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"When a new day begins, dare to smile gratefully.<br />When there is darkness, dare to be the first to shine a light.<br />When there is injustice, dare to be the first to condemn it.<br />When something seems difficult, dare to do it anyway.<br />When life seems to beat you down, dare to fight back.<br />When there seems to be no hope, dare to find some.<br />When you’re feeling tired, dare to keep going.<br />When times are tough, dare to be tougher.<br />When love hurts you, dare to love again.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnhLznV7WUi8ygPxl9ErYC42-l8sW_LcjggeV0WK_IbB2M0aPxdxXBSCkSDO6VSnNAPxduG7xNdCLQ9GcM3QqWI-8xogOSbd7Rgm0M3K4UeLGXdLLW2rWUz2_VISLl0z7pTRZcQ/s1600/3.23.3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnhLznV7WUi8ygPxl9ErYC42-l8sW_LcjggeV0WK_IbB2M0aPxdxXBSCkSDO6VSnNAPxduG7xNdCLQ9GcM3QqWI-8xogOSbd7Rgm0M3K4UeLGXdLLW2rWUz2_VISLl0z7pTRZcQ/s1600/3.23.3.jpg" height="640" width="572" /></a></div>
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When someone is hurting, dare to help them heal.</div>
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When another is lost, dare to help them find the way.</div>
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When a friend falls, dare to be the first to extend a hand.</div>
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When you cross paths with another, dare to make them smile.</div>
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When you feel great, dare to help someone else feel great too.</div>
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When the day has ended, dare to feel as you’ve done your best.</div>
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Dare to be the best you can..." – Steve Maraboli</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-11362586368059879792014-02-09T19:37:00.001-06:002014-02-09T20:35:36.710-06:00Struggle <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." -Bob Marley</span></div>
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpA-j0ulCuB3XPOxVg-X2zgNclgFmQyLSlDXb5xuPCWOXpf2nSF8sMI1goEpTmXpfmCI8Bg-uU8WtKLESh90bk8VD_ZzLL2a39qybL2dtIOKpCG5oY0Iwa9IAVQFCC1mMV3kXbg/s1600/1.9.5.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></div>
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I saw this quote during an episode of "Being Mary Jane" and promptly dismissed it. I wasn't sure if I agreed with the premise of thinking that people will hurt you and the idea of suffering for someone. </div>
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Then a friend shared this article with me last week and I understood what Bob Marley meant by using the word suffering. I'm obsessed with this article. </div>
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It speaks to my soul. Here is an excerpt:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"If I ask you, "What do you want out of life?" and you say something
like, "I want to be happy and have a great family and a job I like,"
it's so ubiquitous that it doesn't even mean anything. </div>
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Everyone wants that. So what's the point?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud3j-c4Z2gmk_-1oyYBLGxCeMITEHd2J1-j9v0kqYAVxoZYskp0R82IZ-JGM38UcdsLYRlT4PK8xAH9tjQAuU_hQiA4aa5ZjrNp2cKHQeYtBrrrstdXYk-ySLF-Mif0qNBqPyfQ/s1600/1.9.7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud3j-c4Z2gmk_-1oyYBLGxCeMITEHd2J1-j9v0kqYAVxoZYskp0R82IZ-JGM38UcdsLYRlT4PK8xAH9tjQAuU_hQiA4aa5ZjrNp2cKHQeYtBrrrstdXYk-ySLF-Mif0qNBqPyfQ/s1600/1.9.7.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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What's more interesting to me is <strong>what pain do you want?</strong> What are you willing to struggle for? Because that seems to be a greater determinant of how our lives end up.</div>
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Everybody wants to have an amazing job and financial independence --
but not everyone is willing to suffer through 60-hour work weeks, long
commutes, obnoxious paperwork, to navigate arbitrary corporate
hierarchies and the blasé confines of an infinite cubicle hell. People
want to be rich without the risk, with the delayed gratification
necessary to accumulate wealth.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpKpkBPradcZ6_YGKl1Gu6lZMy47yiwvFk09a0LtMbHYZgMcsavvs51G0YhsjGukQVXbvyiZQiv99HweI8MPqIzgr1CtD7qsD5TS58OFXsUZ1ctSEb-PvkfyuQJgxEplDYr4tNQ/s1600/1.9.3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpKpkBPradcZ6_YGKl1Gu6lZMy47yiwvFk09a0LtMbHYZgMcsavvs51G0YhsjGukQVXbvyiZQiv99HweI8MPqIzgr1CtD7qsD5TS58OFXsUZ1ctSEb-PvkfyuQJgxEplDYr4tNQ/s1600/1.9.3.jpg" height="640" width="544" /></a> </div>
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Everybody wants to have great sex and an awesome relationship -- but not
everyone is willing to go through the tough communication, the awkward
silences, the hurt feelings and the emotional psychodrama to get there.
And so they settle. They settle and wonder "What if?" for years and
years and until the question morphs from "What if?" into "What for?" And
when the lawyers go home and the alimony check is in the mail they say,
"What was it all for?" If not for their lowered standards and
expectations for themselves 20 years prior, then what for? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FBmoy2D_P3GlbYZO81mYTAqWMt6oW8-uk2FIiUl9yJbZEQVgQ0tCOvarNgcTtfHLSiOxQIpctkMaFFZkeDv2TFBfgrSGkfChZlapNbmd9S03Dtt-Bb_Hok1KGPfctFXmdKMqpg/s1600/1.9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FBmoy2D_P3GlbYZO81mYTAqWMt6oW8-uk2FIiUl9yJbZEQVgQ0tCOvarNgcTtfHLSiOxQIpctkMaFFZkeDv2TFBfgrSGkfChZlapNbmd9S03Dtt-Bb_Hok1KGPfctFXmdKMqpg/s1600/1.9.jpg" height="640" width="480" /> </a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Coat: Marshalls</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dress: Gap</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Belt: Forever 21</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Bracelets: Various </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Boots: Juicy Couture </span></div>
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Because happiness requires struggle. You can only avoid pain for so long before it comes roaring back to life. </div>
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At the core of all human behavior, the good feelings we all want are
more or less the same. Therefore what we get out of life is not
determined by the good feelings we desire but by what bad feelings we're
willing to sustain.</div>
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"Nothing good in life comes easy," we've been told that a hundred
times before. The good things in life we accomplish are defined by where
we enjoy the suffering, where we enjoy the struggle. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzThyphenhyphent-T0rWWzs2umHnsFP3oX_tVk9V2l8d-qLAFTfngyzlv35Pih9qlaB-RCGIlfNNk_p0NgmQ1OUFwcWu7atASPBsKGMk_weGFsQwOozsBUNmQm2z9uFrkZQxCtfIQW1kjRkw/s1600/2.9.8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzThyphenhyphent-T0rWWzs2umHnsFP3oX_tVk9V2l8d-qLAFTfngyzlv35Pih9qlaB-RCGIlfNNk_p0NgmQ1OUFwcWu7atASPBsKGMk_weGFsQwOozsBUNmQm2z9uFrkZQxCtfIQW1kjRkw/s1600/2.9.8.jpg" height="640" width="514" /></a></div>
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People want an amazing physique. But you don't end up with one unless
you legitimately love the pain and physical stress that comes with
living inside a gym for hour upon hour, unless you love calculating and
calibrating the food you eat, planning your life out in tiny plate-sized
portions.</div>
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People want to start their <nobr>own business</nobr> or become financially independent. But you don't end up a successful entrepreneur
unless you find a way to love the risk, the uncertainty, the repeated
failures, and working insane hours on something you have no idea whether
will be successful or not. Some people are wired for that sort of pain,
and those are the ones who succeed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuAb6r6q4tktdDAFcIP2sOUwkbOrD2x7fSWnVqMNy1WiJvgq_L79YOfPlcQqM44t9Wz9HDUluTn9iKZllAC04pg8Vi0qMYbxNJ0smlpaClcnz6pI9nHBedxOTPQnAxIQLOBdfQ-g/s1600/2.9.4+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuAb6r6q4tktdDAFcIP2sOUwkbOrD2x7fSWnVqMNy1WiJvgq_L79YOfPlcQqM44t9Wz9HDUluTn9iKZllAC04pg8Vi0qMYbxNJ0smlpaClcnz6pI9nHBedxOTPQnAxIQLOBdfQ-g/s1600/2.9.4+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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People want a boyfriend or girlfriend. But you don't end up attracting amazing people
without loving the emotional turbulence that comes with weathering
rejections, building the sexual tension that never gets released, and
staring blankly at a phone that never rings. It's part of the game of
love. You can't win if you don't play. </div>
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<strong>What determines your success is "What pain do you want to sustain?"</strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3mgaxAuCM02qIPV4M_oiNLf_Wzi_6fu0FOOpinVQZzVqlyfn06o0IOjloAtnPKt2uvwB07qMm_R0ex1jqRai1klieJuky4pzAMdHRGcNTzgjVof-V4ZFtjXgMxQIAK8_gCB3tQ/s1600/1.9.6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3mgaxAuCM02qIPV4M_oiNLf_Wzi_6fu0FOOpinVQZzVqlyfn06o0IOjloAtnPKt2uvwB07qMm_R0ex1jqRai1klieJuky4pzAMdHRGcNTzgjVof-V4ZFtjXgMxQIAK8_gCB3tQ/s1600/1.9.6.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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If you want the benefits of something in life, you have to also want
the costs. If you want the six pack, you have to want the sweat, the
soreness, the early mornings, and the hunger pangs. If you want the
yacht, you have to also want the late nights, the risky business moves,
and the possibility of pissing off a person or ten.</div>
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If you find yourself wanting something month after month, year after
year, yet nothing happens and you never come any closer to it, then
maybe what you actually want is a fantasy, an idealization, an image and
a false promise. Maybe you <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" target="_blank">don't actually want it at all</a>.</div>
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So I ask you, "How are you willing to suffer?"</div>
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Because you have to choose something. You can't have a pain-free life. It can't all be roses and unicorns. </div>
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Choose how you are willing to suffer. </div>
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Because that's the hard question that matters. Pleasure is an easy question. And pretty much all of us have the same answer.</div>
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The more interesting question is the pain. <em>What is the pain that you want to sustain?</em></div>
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Because <em>that</em> answer will actually get you somewhere. It's
the question that can change your life. It's what makes me me and you
you. It's what defines us and separates us and ultimately brings us
together.</div>
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So what's it going to be?" -Mark Manson</div>
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Do you agree with this article? That we have to choose the pain that we are willing to suffer for to get what we want in the end? Are you willing to </div>
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suffer through the hard times to reap the reward? Is it worth the risk? Are you guilty of settling for a life that is less than you deserve because you are afraid of the pain? </div>
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(I have been asking myself these questions ever since I've read this article.) </div>
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Read the full article at The Huffington Post <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mark-manson/the-most-important-question_b_4269161.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-89036362685199177272014-01-23T08:03:00.000-06:002014-01-23T08:03:26.231-06:00Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQft6yiEBJA3BaRBHNCLabhhZLtuEsTw7UhZ5x7rwcWDWy1bd-mcxs3sM028BR4wMcQ8n0_3m4_Kbu_y3Oi8ji-2S1ooMoc0OFmfp4s1g_WL83nPTTX63V_lTjdr8IgisSzfKJDg/s1600/1.19.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQft6yiEBJA3BaRBHNCLabhhZLtuEsTw7UhZ5x7rwcWDWy1bd-mcxs3sM028BR4wMcQ8n0_3m4_Kbu_y3Oi8ji-2S1ooMoc0OFmfp4s1g_WL83nPTTX63V_lTjdr8IgisSzfKJDg/s1600/1.19.2.jpg" height="640" width="356" /></a></div>
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First, can we talk about this sweatshirt? </div>
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I follow <a href="http://instagram.com/theessenceof_" target="_blank">@theessenceof</a> on Instagram and about flipped out when I saw this sweatshirt from her friend and designer, <a href="http://instagram.com/tuttielu" target="_blank">@tuttielu</a> on there. I promptly emailed her and became the proud owner of one! (P.S. follow me on Instagram <a href="http://instagram.com/fashionnettework" target="_blank">@fashionnettework</a>) Another blogger and virtual friend, Yolanda of Yoyo's Fashions purchased one too and sent me pics of how she styled hers and I thought I would showcase hers as well. </div>
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Yolanda's Way: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRKdKi74_nPswleHo6bP9THsqMXZ3kY1XNR-1oIcI8xBamLifJrRqNxhH6nmsbc-SwFqaLOAiMM7BHuzJyNL3BgcCvCCQ0M0VQ-egfBY7-DT4Uba6SuY3NCjNx03yVjJ4SXLhVw/s1600/yolanda+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijRKdKi74_nPswleHo6bP9THsqMXZ3kY1XNR-1oIcI8xBamLifJrRqNxhH6nmsbc-SwFqaLOAiMM7BHuzJyNL3BgcCvCCQ0M0VQ-egfBY7-DT4Uba6SuY3NCjNx03yVjJ4SXLhVw/s1600/yolanda+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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Love the graphic skirt with the sweatshirt. Check out her blog, Yoyo's Fashions<a href="http://yoyosfashions.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> here</a></div>
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And here's my way: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFtGUtnZ9zjgayJodV-dX6rfRO-aLPvJ6aKrynfcmY2z1GehVMdpTlrh0ETTIXIXE-dXQ28w342ouqzbtyykYSMUwngxSOFU5oc8CBUpwXNNGSU3YrMI9sAfMJCV8geUGSf1u2Q/s1600/1.19.3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFtGUtnZ9zjgayJodV-dX6rfRO-aLPvJ6aKrynfcmY2z1GehVMdpTlrh0ETTIXIXE-dXQ28w342ouqzbtyykYSMUwngxSOFU5oc8CBUpwXNNGSU3YrMI9sAfMJCV8geUGSf1u2Q/s1600/1.19.3.jpg" height="640" width="402" /></a></div>
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I have met two readers of my blog recently (hey y'all!) and I always get sorta embarrassed. I wonder if they think that I look the same in person as I do on the blog, I hope that I don't come across as a dork, and I'm secretly wondering if we can take a picture together but I never ask! To Elaine, text me so we can go thrifting and to the girl at the gym (I'm sorry I forgot your name!) I hope I see you today, I really did like your Wu-Tang shirt and thank y'all so much for reading. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIrjDxKG_FqddtDkzwIJQWGZLi9mbuEwa2Guo129tioMydNnV0UE9zzixZrawAtFIeoAybLuqr47Fm3zYJ7zfSopwC-RyJrBaLwLzi5eY-lnaxHbS44trN0LmiQV0SwjWb44EXw/s1600/1.19.2+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtIrjDxKG_FqddtDkzwIJQWGZLi9mbuEwa2Guo129tioMydNnV0UE9zzixZrawAtFIeoAybLuqr47Fm3zYJ7zfSopwC-RyJrBaLwLzi5eY-lnaxHbS44trN0LmiQV0SwjWb44EXw/s1600/1.19.2+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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I know that on most visits I have a cheery anecdote for y'all or words of encouragement but I am unable to can on that today. I am never sure if I should post when I am not feeling my usual self but I want y'all to know that I'm human. It is hard in this life at times. I get frustrated. I lose heart.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhfn5lYo-v8HOplRtymLdQA7KFyUeSDEt_FjcbszsxVAuPOMKiEoqMqXZ8SotncHh2MQXLYCWdRQuDAwWl62NjAZqWycBsE7R9NaY5bh3kAlFgM92PEf9fa2FSYiym91HyK4ZUQ/s1600/1.19.8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhfn5lYo-v8HOplRtymLdQA7KFyUeSDEt_FjcbszsxVAuPOMKiEoqMqXZ8SotncHh2MQXLYCWdRQuDAwWl62NjAZqWycBsE7R9NaY5bh3kAlFgM92PEf9fa2FSYiym91HyK4ZUQ/s1600/1.19.8.jpg" height="640" width="330" /></a></div>
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I sometimes imagine my heart to be this battered and bruised little thing, still beating but maybe not as strong and resilient as before. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bcPNwg2wrjTaMwMcOPruNDgbF628YRAFKcGzXFjL5SxwpB8lS-p3MpaCKH1Bj6pLQgT2PPlRegNuu5yF_HOQB7dlcA204c5xsdm5NtvfynDxEredwwaVUYOhVij0fuJDhaic2Q/s1600/1.19.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bcPNwg2wrjTaMwMcOPruNDgbF628YRAFKcGzXFjL5SxwpB8lS-p3MpaCKH1Bj6pLQgT2PPlRegNuu5yF_HOQB7dlcA204c5xsdm5NtvfynDxEredwwaVUYOhVij0fuJDhaic2Q/s1600/1.19.4.jpg" height="640" width="326" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I don't expect anyone to understand my journey, it is mine alone</span></div>
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and sometimes it is best to go through it on your own terms.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXGlZwqE9wewQq54FD29z7ZYIO9XtGw0kfmXn2uH4eWex33OQmoHqQfQirfOv2nfQ7BFLu0VjrdOZ9od3EhutaU-MsOgsupsqmxLWot_fxS4EP8P0K7mfyzPXPhNc5XLAZH16IQ/s1600/1.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXGlZwqE9wewQq54FD29z7ZYIO9XtGw0kfmXn2uH4eWex33OQmoHqQfQirfOv2nfQ7BFLu0VjrdOZ9od3EhutaU-MsOgsupsqmxLWot_fxS4EP8P0K7mfyzPXPhNc5XLAZH16IQ/s1600/1.19.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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Glasses: BonLook</div>
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Sweatshirt: Email <a href="mailto:TuttieRossDesigns@gmail.com">TuttieRossDesigns@gmail.com</a> for info</div>
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Skirt: Joe Fresh</div>
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Bag: Zara</div>
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Bracelets: Various</div>
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Shoes: BCBG </div>
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And no one should judge another person's pain. </div>
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Staying positive, prayerful, and diligent can be a lesson in futility at times. Happens to the best of us. </div>
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Stay up.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-10708231723179605452014-01-17T07:49:00.002-06:002014-02-09T19:38:43.202-06:00Lemonade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3tNeI7gYwVOsHfBPs9DL2nFigtmaQaPUteQCNMYxgS1GETVD5uWTxU1IUGhuw4noF4h7UfsjUNfwrbF1TVxfI2MdF2Y2Tx75qhs6-BJNPWoO-WH96CSnMKO5MTZ96SKlpOLsMA/s1600/12.3.3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3tNeI7gYwVOsHfBPs9DL2nFigtmaQaPUteQCNMYxgS1GETVD5uWTxU1IUGhuw4noF4h7UfsjUNfwrbF1TVxfI2MdF2Y2Tx75qhs6-BJNPWoO-WH96CSnMKO5MTZ96SKlpOLsMA/s1600/12.3.3.png" height="400" width="377" /></a></div>
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I don't have any new pictures to post and I ran across these that I took during Christmas break so I figure they are better than nothing. </div>
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(Showcasing my birthday gifts from Reiko over at God's Favorite Shoes.)</div>
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I have a student who is very concerned with my love life. Or lack of one. She asked me at the beginning of the school year if I was married. I told her no and she asked if I was engaged. Nope. "A boyfriend?' she asked pleadingly. I shook my head no. "But WHY?" she asked, looking at me all earnestly. "I wish I had answers for you" I laughingly told her. "That's crazy" she said and I told her "We are in agreement."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6idEl-wh847uLOqRrj6jLInrYr2vXI-y7W-dyPim_31FlP6MdfATohbTeUyWot7vxkJOm8Le95NnP7oUb3aItbh9wApdwJ5BqyeBm27DVTNdeZQfdLfohJAoK8n9p2H3Gm8uazA/s1600/12.3.9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6idEl-wh847uLOqRrj6jLInrYr2vXI-y7W-dyPim_31FlP6MdfATohbTeUyWot7vxkJOm8Le95NnP7oUb3aItbh9wApdwJ5BqyeBm27DVTNdeZQfdLfohJAoK8n9p2H3Gm8uazA/s1600/12.3.9.png" height="376" width="400" /></a> </div>
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So now she will ask me at random times if certain male teachers are married as if she is going to try and set me up with them. I appreciate her tenacity. She also told me not to do speed dating because I'm not 'desperate.' I assured her that I didn't think speed dating was for me and she nodded her head in relief. Maybe this 6th grader can be my dating coach because she is definitely on a mission!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAA3WZ4RAHuDA87OQdNeEddmXuQVcZ5UbkUUvM3QVtr5c4WQE1TLJKW7ZlvxCl4dvIbFgU-qcTxNbD-oi15o7snmfvq2MkcEMH9zcqDEp9x0bIc5q0TeiWOKgWKqJv5AAIwDokKQ/s1600/12.3.5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAA3WZ4RAHuDA87OQdNeEddmXuQVcZ5UbkUUvM3QVtr5c4WQE1TLJKW7ZlvxCl4dvIbFgU-qcTxNbD-oi15o7snmfvq2MkcEMH9zcqDEp9x0bIc5q0TeiWOKgWKqJv5AAIwDokKQ/s1600/12.3.5.png" /></a></div>
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My favorite-est gift! I love to journal and Reiko had it custom made for me! </div>
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I love it so much I don't e'em want to write in it! </div>
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Journal and pillow by <a href="http://www.olivepaperie.com/#!home/c1sn0" target="_blank">Olive Paperie</a>, tell Dana I sent you!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSTCOG97-y9GPoLXg5B1cBhZL3Oibhk6rDV3jKUVEGy7RuDahlpYFsSSO5rIY8aBH-mXcV08JZ4oazhX_EFH1yhTgMc0V1_lnnP08rSpiPEjsRC9B-wIjTt_qXjSX4LaXBKRVKQ/s1600/12.3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSTCOG97-y9GPoLXg5B1cBhZL3Oibhk6rDV3jKUVEGy7RuDahlpYFsSSO5rIY8aBH-mXcV08JZ4oazhX_EFH1yhTgMc0V1_lnnP08rSpiPEjsRC9B-wIjTt_qXjSX4LaXBKRVKQ/s1600/12.3.png" height="640" width="452" /></a></div>
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Conversation with my friend's daughter (she's 6):</div>
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T: You ain't married yet?</div>
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Me (liking the fact that she said 'yet'): Naw</div>
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T: Well when are you going to get married? </div>
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Me (liking the fact that she assumes it's my choice): Hmmm, I'm not sure, I guess I gotta get to work on that.</div>
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T: Yes. You should. </div>
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I love talking with kids. They'll give it to you straight. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfowPl4OeGJg0ss9HS2JrSRJQLnyHQ0ll4gLGoJaSBOf-BIE7SXj2fQJliuDNORQQpC3RY6c2-2VvNO7F5dO1vdQKr5GTx3hZNxCZFmFZ6iclvhtcNAtLOqK1qbPh3rL-lNm98A/s1600/1.16+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfowPl4OeGJg0ss9HS2JrSRJQLnyHQ0ll4gLGoJaSBOf-BIE7SXj2fQJliuDNORQQpC3RY6c2-2VvNO7F5dO1vdQKr5GTx3hZNxCZFmFZ6iclvhtcNAtLOqK1qbPh3rL-lNm98A/s1600/1.16+PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a> </div>
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But in the meantime I get people like this dude at the gym who forgot that he had already tried to get my number and went into his whole spiel like we didn't just do this a couple of months ago. I'm thinking that if you don't remember that you already tried to "holla at me" (ask me out for those of you are unfamiliar) and I said no, then you, sir, are doing too much. You try to talk to that many women? Or am I just forgettable? Either way, you need to remember these things because it ain't a good look. I had to tell him "We've already done this dance." (I really hated this guy's approach, he was horrible!) He was eyeballing me like the cartoon where everything looks like food. I expected him to stick out his tongue and do pelvic thrusts towards me. You can look interested but don't be a pervert. No one likes a pervert. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CTaNG7x8N6EfbruY117QpvkqUvAdgSVKyff_1K5jULlbvSfBpjrirwdiv1htyp8wqK2hqEKUQpnbXiihFrpRTn3zDRBkcXyxtHO0mxWIWxawR9on-ydOcF2bA2azCxlRxOa2Lw/s1600/12.3.10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CTaNG7x8N6EfbruY117QpvkqUvAdgSVKyff_1K5jULlbvSfBpjrirwdiv1htyp8wqK2hqEKUQpnbXiihFrpRTn3zDRBkcXyxtHO0mxWIWxawR9on-ydOcF2bA2azCxlRxOa2Lw/s1600/12.3.10.png" height="640" width="322" /></a></div>
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*My nephew took these photos, he could care less about my directions*.</div>
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Glasses: BonLook</div>
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Sweater: Target</div>
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Tee: Target</div>
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Sweater tights: H&M </div>
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Boots: Marshalls</div>
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But I won't give up hope. I can't, it's on my damn vision board! </div>
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"I believe that if life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade... <br />
And try to find somebody whose life has given them vodka, and have a party." ~Ron White </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-72658213802146048582014-01-05T18:34:00.000-06:002014-01-06T10:03:45.244-06:002013 Year In Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD8dV1NnA2MHmYylLkcomn5TJd-sDDdKzYtq3E5TGM0ILKETLWPlW8SsKOgfi3JsK-_Ml4JBjfyixnEwA2PvGSB_CwYjNExfEeRLHe-4WMviXkAqXM171XNNl3tB9El2JScxJh6w/s1600/1.5.14.3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD8dV1NnA2MHmYylLkcomn5TJd-sDDdKzYtq3E5TGM0ILKETLWPlW8SsKOgfi3JsK-_Ml4JBjfyixnEwA2PvGSB_CwYjNExfEeRLHe-4WMviXkAqXM171XNNl3tB9El2JScxJh6w/s640/1.5.14.3.jpg" height="426" width="640"></a></div>
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Hey y'all. Hey. I have compiled a list of Things I Learned in 2013 for y'all. Enjoy.</div>
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1. Unexpectedly awesome things can happen. Expect good things. </div>
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2. People mean well but you can't always take everyone's advice. People forever giving relationship advice when their man don't work, don't wanna work and doesn't even consider you his 'main girl.' Or you telling me what men like and you rollerset your hair and wear pantyhose. Consider the source is all I'm saying, consider the source.....</div>
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3. I really REALLY like Beyonce now. (I secretly love her.) I don't want to say that I'm a part of the Beyhive but I might put someone's tires on flat if I hear them bashing Beyonce. People mad about her cd saying its too sexual, I don't remember her saying that she was only going to make kid friendly music. And she's talking about Jay-Z, so duh! #AccordingToHerHePutsItDown #IKnewIt </div>
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4. I have some great friends. But I learned that it is best to keep your circle tight. And loyalty is important to me. I told someone that I think it is hard to be my friend because I do have high expectations of friendships but that is because I consider myself to be a great friend. So yes, if I can't trust you I will snatch my friendship back from you and leave you where you at. You wasting my friendship time. </div>
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5. I would rather have no date than this blog post <a href="http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/2013/03/not-these-panny-drawers.html" target="_blank">right here</a>. No thank you, I would rather stay home and get drunk and watch Real Basketball Wives Love & Hip Hop Preachers of Atlanta.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOKMhBrYOJolOcSpqRUeSmHULrR3HSeStfm0vpRpKgULdDug_VfUqM4xUXLoPCf2-eHl1lSCNgW8ZolgtBiMHdIr0khzRoblUDWcsNF9AIBt-bXOtMYkwcW54EUPQjP0DP6TiNw/s1600/1.5.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOKMhBrYOJolOcSpqRUeSmHULrR3HSeStfm0vpRpKgULdDug_VfUqM4xUXLoPCf2-eHl1lSCNgW8ZolgtBiMHdIr0khzRoblUDWcsNF9AIBt-bXOtMYkwcW54EUPQjP0DP6TiNw/s640/1.5.14.jpg" height="640" width="396"></a></div>
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6. I have always done this but I came to the realization that I like to know people's motivations about things. I always want to know why someone did something, I guess I want to know the backstory. My major was psychology in college before I switched it because I was obsessed with why people did the things that they do. If you are posting blog photos and your background is messy I'm not e'em caring about your outfit, I'm wondering "Does she work a lot? Did she not think we would notice all that ish in the background? How she got a man with her being so junky?" I swear this is the truth, <a href="http://godsfavoriteshoes.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Reiko</a> will be trying to show me how cute someone's outfit is and I'm asking "Did she wear that to work? Where is she going? Does she have a secret benefactor?" It drives her crazy! </div>
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6. I learned that some people are always mad and apparently that's what's hot in the streets on social media. People ain't always 'coming for you.' I had a brief Instagram Altercation (this could also serve as a song title) with a blogger that I felt was being self-righteous and hostile to people who disagreed with her rants on Instagram. I just didn't understand why she always seemed so angry. People getting all up in arms about Rihanna's Doobie hairstyle? Fo real? My question to her was why can't there be room for all opinions instead of the "if you like that you ain't got no standards" type thinking? So of course that turned into people 'coming for me, you can unfollow me if you want to but I'm still a child of God in the name of The Lord.' Ma'am, calm down. Is it coming for you if I'm asking why everything has to be so adversarial? It has never been that serious and if it is to you, you got to get out more. But you leave people where they are, you can't make people be happy and as we say in Texas, bless her heart. (And yes, I did unfollow her, I don't have time to be at odds with people I'ont'eem'know in my real life.) Sidenote: I'll bet she's a real hit at parties.</div>
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7. <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">People will try and be shady on your blog and leave comments and pretend that someone else did it and I will still shut.that.ish.down. If it's you, your "niece", your baby mama, stay off my ish, you were not invited to this party and you can't sit with us. To my person from #6, </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I consider this as 'someone coming for you' it is unnecessary and unwarranted shade designed to elicit a response, not you going off on a tangent and getting mad because people disagree with your opinion. #YoureWelcome </span></div>
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8. Sometimes you have to take risks in love. Or like. Or whatever it is. Even if it doesn't turn out the way that you hoped. I would rather know that I left nothing unsaid than never having said it at all. Just be honest. And take chances. It'll all be okay. </div>
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9. You can't make yourself like somebody romantically. No matter who people try and set you up with. And how much money he makes. (I don't know why people act as if someone having a lot of money should excuse everything else.) Although I feel that people's standards aren't really that high when they are trying to set me up anyway. "He's been married four times but he's a nice guy. I don't know where he works but he's always got a pocketful of cash. If he was alive I would set you two up." These are all true statements people have said to me I swear fo Gawd. </div>
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10. I strongly, strongly believe that if you are grateful for all things, the good and the bad, if you strive to be a blessing, and if you see the humor in it all, people will remember it and appreciate having you in their life. Or so I've heard.....<br>
2013 was filled with lots of firsts and of course lots of laughs<br>
and I know that 2014 will be uber-awesome!<br>
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And without further ado, click <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/psttx2edhf0k8r2/IMG_2800.mov" target="_blank"><u>here</u></a> for a video of my year in review</b>.</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-92041836917008784442013-12-16T09:20:00.001-06:002013-12-16T09:49:04.810-06:00Jackie Robinson<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy birthday to me! #MakingPeopleLaughSince1971</div>
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As I've been thinking about my life on this earth I realized that I have never done things the traditional way that you are 'supposed' to. I didn't know that I should have been thinking about getting married, having babies and working a conventional job when I was younger. I was listening to ratchet music, dancing all the time, trying to find a career that fulfilled me, and loving life. And loving it hard. That is the one constant that I have always wanted in my life; love. And it's not that I don't want those so-called normal things, it just wasn't my focus then. But I feel that things happen according to God's plan and whatever is meant to happen will happen at the time that it is supposed to. </div>
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*Before y'all start telling me this is the bomb twistout I want y'all to know that it's a half wig. Best 22 bucks I've spent lately. The front of my hair was left out.*</div>
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The greatest compliment that I've ever received is that I am a flashlight. That I am like a light shining wherever I go. I love that description. I think of it when I feel down sometimes and I remember that someone (who I don't know that well) described me as a light. I love it more than being called pretty, or intelligent or funny (although I like hearing those too!) It makes me feel that the me that I am on the inside is reflecting on the outside.</div>
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Dress: Asos</div>
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Shoes: Jessica Simpson </div>
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My photographer friend Paul and I had a photoshoot to commemorate my birthday. More pics to come but I am very pleased with them. #IsItVainIfISayMyBootyIsLookingPrettyAwesome? #ImJustWondering </div>
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So as I enter into the Jackie Robinson year of life (his baseball jersey was 42, I feel that it's symbolic, no?) I am so grateful for it all. The best part? I don't feel 42, I feel more like I'm about 28 (except for my bum knee), and both of my parents look young so I take no credit for the fact that people tell me that they can't believe that I'm 42. I'm just glad those two got together and created lil ole me. *Ewwwwwwww, huh?*</div>
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Age does not have to limit you unless you allow it to. </div>
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"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" ~Satchel Paige</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33497944.post-41988947482019345802013-12-11T13:53:00.000-06:002013-12-11T17:35:36.043-06:00Get Me Bodied<div style="text-align: center;">
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I went to see Beyonce in concert Monday night. And it was eh-verr-ree-thing.</div>
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We missed two days of school because of snow, sleet and ice and it was so cold in the D but I wore this anyway. #IDidntEemCare My friend said "I see you with yo thighs out." #MadeMeThinkOfChicken</div>
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I danced and sang the entire time, it was so supremely awesome! It was like when you go to a funeral and you say about the person "He looks just like himself." </div>
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She sounded just like herself! But she was singing live. (Hear that, Madonna and Britney?) #ImActingLikeATree #Shady<br />
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I was mega-excited to snag this Notorious B.I.G. sweatshirt from Forever 21, it spoke to me so hard. <br />
Earrings: Aldo<br />
Skirt: H&M <br />
Boots: Marshalls (I am living in these boots these days)</div>
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Lipstick: Ruby Woo by Mac<br />
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Going to the concert was a spur of the moment decision but was one of my (early) birthday gifts </div>
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(My actual birthday is this Friday). Even though going to see Jay-Z was one of my </div>
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birthday gifts as well but who says you gotta have one gift?!? </div>
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Once I found out they had tickets still available on Saturday I said "Let's do it!" </div>
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*in my best Tone Loc voice.* </div>
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I have always liked Bey, I think that she's a talented performer but now after seeing her in concert, I will cut somebody over Beyonce. I will take off my earrings and fight them in the street like she is my play sister. Talmbout "Nobody better not talk bad about Bey!" Now I understand why #PeopleBe crying at concerts and throwing themselves in front of her car, she sang a snippet of "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston and I was shouting like I was in church!<br />
Yelling out "Don't do it, Bey!" and thankfully she didn't. <br />
(I ain't ready for that no ways, I still get teary whenever I hear that song now.) <br />
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Has anyone ever seen Beyoncé in concert? Was your experience as magnificent as mine? <br />
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*Sidenote: I originally wanted to title this post "Milkshake" as in it bring all the boys to the yard but I'm thinking maybe I'm in the wrong yard.....</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://fashionnette-work.blogspot.com/</div>Juanettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08570455815260070848noreply@blogger.com7