<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:17:32.798-07:00</updated><category term='DOG MOM'/><category term='Final Days...'/><title type='text'>Erika and Joey</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-1816511818610227920</id><published>2007-07-19T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T06:22:55.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Last Post!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;After reading my last post on MSN.com, here's the link to email to others...  (&lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19762056/site/newsweek/page/0/"&gt;http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19762056/site/newsweek/page/0/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I couldn't believe how true and really how much I felt that this writer was reading out to me.  Joe and I have been married nearly two  years, and almost every person we come in contact with whether a true friend or complete stranger.... want to know where the rugrats are or if they are coming any day soon.  Yes I said rugrats!  To me, too many people let their children run rampid up and down the dept store walkways, want to bring them to every wedding they are invited to or cant control their screaming at a peaceful dinner.  I go out to eat and be served in pleasantry, not to be bombarded by the obnoxious humming of your child throwing  a temper tantrum because their crayon just broke.  Everyone says well that will change when they are yours.  But really why should it.  I dont want to be looked at like "God why did they bring their kids here!"  There is no reason why your children need to act like animals in a civilized environment.  If you dont have time to teach your children common manners, than why are you breeding.  This country has become too lax on expectations of people as a whole, but dont make your children suffer for you ill will.  Teach them right from wrong and if you cant, dont bring them in public.  If your baby is crying, pick the damn thing up.  Its not their fault - its yours!  Have common courteousy and dont make excuses!  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;AND STOP ASKING ME WHEN I'M HAVING KIDS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(AND I'M OFF MY SOAPBOX FOR THE DAY!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-1816511818610227920?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/1816511818610227920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=1816511818610227920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/1816511818610227920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/1816511818610227920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-last-post-after-reading-my-last-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-8285051835458596703</id><published>2007-07-19T06:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T06:28:25.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Stop Setting Alarms on My Biological Clock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If I'm ever going to fulfill my dream of becoming a mother, I'm going to need some better role models.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;By Carrie Friedman&lt;br /&gt;Newsweek&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;July 23, 2007 issue - I am at a party chatting with a woman I know slightly. As her young son squirms out of her embrace, she slips her hand under my shirt. She's not getting fresh with me. She's touching my tummy with her cold hand and asking me, in a concerned voice, "Why aren't you pregnant yet?" I smile, break free from her touch, and head to the food table to fill said empty belly with her brat's birthday cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I love children and definitely plan on having them. Maternal instinct is oozing out of my pores: I've infantilized my dogs; I've gotten down on my hands and knees at the park with babies I barely know. My marriage is wonderful and solid, and we are both blessed with good health. I've been a nanny, a teacher, a youth-group leader. I've taken childhood-development courses solely for the purpose of someday raising happy, balanced children. I have always looked forward to becoming a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So why don't I have kids or even the inkling right now? It's because of you. Yes, you: the fanatical mothers of the world. It may seem like ages ago now, but you weren't always like this. You, too, were sneering at the obnoxious parents who brought their infants to fancy, adult, nighttime restaurants or R-rated movies and let them carry on, ruining things for other patrons. You've been terrible advertising for the club that you so desperately need others to join.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;If you want me to join your ranks—and you've made it clear with your cold, clammy hands on my stomach that recruiting my uterus is of paramount importance to you—I need to set some ground rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;First, please stop asking me when I'm going to get pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;For all you know, I cannot have kids. For all I know, I cannot have kids, as I have not yet tried. But imagine how painful this line of interrogation would be if I had submitted to all kinds of procedures, only to come up empty-wombed. It would be emotionally devastating. Yet ever since the day after my wedding two years ago, I have fielded this question from the eye doctor, the dental assistant, my yoga teacher, the bagger at the grocery store. All of them feel entitled to ask. Don't. It's none of your business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Next, don't completely abandon your own life and passions. You're setting a bad example for aspiring mothers-to-be like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I recently expressed my happiness over an achievement I had at work to a mother-friend of mine. She said, dripping with condescension, "Well, you don't know happiness until you've had a baby."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;That's very possible, but don't rain on my parade, as I've never said to you, "Remind me, when you went to that expensive college you majored in diaper-rash prevention, right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I happen to love my job. It fulfills me in ways no other person—even a child—could. I learned through my own mother's example that the best lesson you can teach your kids is to pursue their passions. It's not selfish to have your own life. In fact, it's selfish not to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Now let's talk a bit about manners, as in please teach your children some. The world has rules, and kids should learn them. And being well mannered does not infringe on their individuality and freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I crouched to meet the eye line of an acquaintance's 4-year-old to greet her, and in response, she punched me in the face so hard my mouth bled. What was more baffling was the mother's reaction: nothing to the child, but to me she said very sternly: "You really shouldn't talk down to kids."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I also shouldn't be punched in the face by kids whose parents don't know how to set basic boundaries. Experiences like this don't exactly encourage me to hurry up and get pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Finally, don't make your kid an extension of your own narcissism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;No one could possibly love your kids as much as you do, so stop inflicting them on others. Don't bring your kid to adult parties when you're not sure if it's kid-friendly. If they didn't invite your kid, they don't want your kid there. If you don't want to get a babysitter, stay home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;My husband thinks some people, particularly mothers, behave in these ways because it helps them validate their own choices. But he doesn't truly understand how infuriating it is, and that's because nobody badgers men with questions about procreation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Becoming a parent was your decision, and I am thrilled for you. All I'm asking is that you let me make that choice in my own time. And keep your hands off my belly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-8285051835458596703?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/8285051835458596703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=8285051835458596703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/8285051835458596703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/8285051835458596703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2007/07/stop-setting-alarms-on-my-biological.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-5443254934672050580</id><published>2007-06-25T05:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T06:46:11.979-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Final Days...'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;FINAL DAYS...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So after much decision and deliberation... I have decided to leave this lovely industry of recruiting to return to the science world where you are actually respected for your position and able to use the brain God has graced you with, instead of being a "phone operator" and be treated rudely.  In one of my previous blogs, you learned a little about the new routine we were all going to have to endure here.  Since then, this place has done a 180 and has indeed lived up to the place I thought all these changes would make. Here is a little recap of the fun!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;1.  We indeed need to be into work by 8am... seems normal yes but what happen to the convenience of "FLEX TIME" we were promised.  I definitely put in more hours a week prior to my 8-5 schedule since it was self motivation instead of being forced upon.  Dare to come in late cuz you'll be made an ass of....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;2.  Wednesdays were dedicated to staying in for lunch - the training was stupid and almost common sense...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;3. Our company acquired another mom and pop shop recruiting firm - well these "mom and pops" were awful and each promised a job.... she the new director of training and he the new president of my sector.. besides being discrimatory, he was rude, loud mouthed and just plain out awful to work for.... Recently, he was "investigated" by HR and has all of a sudden decided to leave the company for "personal reasons"... nonetheless he may have left but will still be paid his big buck salary for 3 years...  how convenient and some lawyer he got himself..... i would love to get paid to do NOTHING!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;4. The latest and greatest ordeal I was involved in.... last week I won a thing where Wired 96.5 comes to your job and gives out free stuff and broadcasts from your workplace..... So they were suppose to come on Wednesday.. we let our bosses know, the rest of the office and then Marketing.... yes marketing needed to know.... we later find out the she would need to come to be the official spokesperson and basically do free advertising for our company instead of it just being something fun...  so she decides she will come out, whatever since we arent allowed to talk to the press and media like we are on Channel 10 news here or something... well because she wasnt going to have enough time to "prepare" something she gets HR involved and I get this lovely email:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'It was brought to my attention that this radio station was coming to the office tomorrow to speak with employees.  After speaking with our PR firm, marketing, the VP and the radio station, it has been decided that this meeting is not in the best interest of our company as well as its employees. This media interaction needs to be cancelled immediately.  In the future, no employee is to have direct contact with the media regarding the company without express consent from the VP or marketing.  Please confirm to me that this has been cancelled directly with the radio station.'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;As you can probably deduct, yes the company also went to the extent to find out what I wrote to the radio station to get them to come to our office.  Luckily, I didnt write what I would have loved to, but their comment still was &lt;em&gt;'Although it wasnt bad, it wasnt 100% positive either' &lt;/em&gt;which means I wasnt a picture perfect ad for the company!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So here it is Monday,  I have my resignation letter typed, printed and signed and my boss isnt coming in today!  Now what to do.... but sit here bored!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Peace!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-5443254934672050580?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/5443254934672050580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=5443254934672050580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/5443254934672050580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/5443254934672050580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2007/06/final-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-2854201980097222262</id><published>2007-05-18T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T06:32:21.954-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DOG MOM'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;DOG MOM"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I thought this was too cute!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VyGSmsLtEE4/Rk2nqkxf_MI/AAAAAAAAAAU/D-vZH875Aes/s1600-h/n38809047_31286614_7463.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065889505729313986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VyGSmsLtEE4/Rk2nqkxf_MI/AAAAAAAAAAU/D-vZH875Aes/s320/n38809047_31286614_7463.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a id="myphotolink" href="http://bloomu.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31286613&amp;id=38809047"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a id="myphotolink" href="http://bloomu.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31286613&amp;amp;id=38809047"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bloomu.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31286614&amp;id=38809047&amp;amp;amp;prev"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I made and ate hot meals unmolested. I had unstained, unfurred clothes. I had quiet conversations on the phone, even if the doorbell rang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I slept as late as I wanted And never worried about how late I got to bed or if I could get into my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I cleaned my house every day. I never tripped over toys, stuffies, chewies Or invited the neighbor's dog over to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I didn't worry if my plants, cleansers, plastic bags, toilet paper, soap or deodorant were poisonous or dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I had never been peed on Pooped on Drooled on Chewed on Or pinched by puppy teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I had complete control of My thoughts, My body and mind. I slept all night without sharing the covers or pillow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I never looked into big, soulful eyes and cried. I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop a hurt. I never knew something so furry and four-legged could affect my heart so deeply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I had never held a sleeping puppy just because I couldn't put it down. I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was well. I didn't know how warm it feels inside to feed a hungry puppy. I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Dog Mom: I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being A Dog Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a id="myphotolink" href="http://bloomu.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31286613&amp;amp;id=38809047"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-2854201980097222262?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/2854201980097222262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=2854201980097222262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/2854201980097222262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/2854201980097222262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2007/05/dog-mom-i-thought-this-was-too-cute.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VyGSmsLtEE4/Rk2nqkxf_MI/AAAAAAAAAAU/D-vZH875Aes/s72-c/n38809047_31286614_7463.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-3386977831286954629</id><published>2007-03-13T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T11:13:39.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#006600;"&gt;IN THE ARMY NOW.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041469953843877458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VyGSmsLtEE4/RfbmNlCrVlI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Yx1R15NVypE/s320/Soldier.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;For those who dont know, I made a job change in November of 06 to try something different.  I am now a scientific recruiter for a well know company in the area that is also part of a large corporation.  Everything has been going pretty well due to the large learning curve in a totally new industry.  Recently, we have added some large players to our department in the corporate way.  They come from a company that is very "militant" in its thinking and the way they run their offices.  Well, word on the street is we have a test group going on right now with a new schedule such as:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Defined work hours are now 8-5:30 - now any smart person can see that working that five times a week is greater than 40 hrs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;One day out of the week we have to work at 7am until a possible 7pm - now who on this God given earth has to work 12hrs on top of the other days of 8-5:30&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Every Wednesday we arent allowed to go out for lunch, meaning we HAVE to "bag it" - so now we dont have a true lunch on one of these days on top of not getting an hour and a half lunch on the other days cuz that 8-5:30 doesnt entitle that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;For the first two hours of the work day we have to huddle up with our co workers to get motivated and set our game plan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;For the next two hours we have to be on the phone but cant be on our computers in any way - no email, no internet no NOTHING - how effective can that be if we cant have our research in front of us half the time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;So, what kind of company am I working for now?  Definitely not the joyful retreat that I was brought on to.  We'll see if this "pilot" thing works out!  Usually people at our level give disgruntle feedback then are told to suck it up anyhow.  Lets just say there wont be many people in this office left!  Who wants to work for the Man when the Man just sticks it to ya?  Why cant I just find some peace somewhere that I can just be happy?  I dispise working to begin with, can't it just be a little enjoyable!  IF I WAS A RICH GIRL......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-3386977831286954629?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/3386977831286954629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=3386977831286954629' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/3386977831286954629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/3386977831286954629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2007/03/in-army-now.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VyGSmsLtEE4/RfbmNlCrVlI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Yx1R15NVypE/s72-c/Soldier.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-5123080306395023064</id><published>2007-03-05T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T10:36:14.102-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;ARRRGH... How can you deny him.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www2.blogger.com/&lt;a%20href="&gt;&lt;img alt="Look at me down here mommy!" src="http://inlinethumb24.webshots.com/663/2783359600083909187S425x425Q85.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ok, so I had to vent because this is just bothering me to no end. As you can see Winston is the cutest freakin thing to walk this Earth. Winston is finally one years old and we have him exactly how we want him. We can trust him outside of his cage all day long and trust that when we get home that we won't be walking into a puddle of pee or poop. But whenever we want to travel home to see our parents, mine especially, I feel like I get the third degree about him. Are you bringing the cage? Are you taking him with you? I just feel like they will never trust him, yet you want to get another puppy. THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN! How will you ever deal with a puppy peeing and pooping all over your house! Winston loves being out of the cage and I probably can bet that he is more likely to ruin your house if you force him inside of four walls! How would you like being stuffed into a small space? I know I would be spiteful in the end! Just needed to vent and feel like I accomplished something. But I Digress!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-5123080306395023064?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/5123080306395023064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=5123080306395023064' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/5123080306395023064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/5123080306395023064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2007/03/ok-so-i-had-to-vent-because-this-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-112177450770735730</id><published>2005-07-19T07:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T05:01:47.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, lets just say we are making beautiful head way on our house! We have a new ceiling on our first floor ... just need some new walls, spackle and paint!  Its all coming together finally!  Luckily we have parents to really  help us!  Other than the house, just really stressing over the wedding!  We have so little time and way too much on our plates.  The invites are going out this weekend, I finally finished all my bridesmaid gifts with the finishing touches last night and now just the little crap that you cant do until the end anyhow!   I am soooo looking forward to Italy.... i cant even tell you how much i need a vacation or else i'm gonna have a meltdown!  Or even a full weekend to just sleep in!  I am so tired anymore I dont even know where to start.  Well going to the house tonight to spackle!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-112177450770735730?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/112177450770735730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=112177450770735730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/112177450770735730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/112177450770735730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2005/07/well-lets-just-say-we-are-making.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-112056444475141991</id><published>2005-07-05T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T04:54:04.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Well, back to the grind today after an exhausting weekend!  Joey and I (along with Muller and my FFIL) painted our house!  Boy, did the guy we bought it from do everything half ass!  At least our painting skills are great, with tips from the pops!  We are very excited to be moved in eventually.  Who ever heard of putting textured paint all of your house.  Who knows, but now we have to rip down the walls to make it the way we want it.  We know in the end all of our work will make it worth it, but wow we have so much going all at once.  I hope to get pics up here as soon as possible, to share with all!  We are so thankful to have friends and family so willing to help us through all of this.  Well I guess since I am at work I should do something since I am getting paid.  Ill write again lata!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-112056444475141991?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/112056444475141991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=112056444475141991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/112056444475141991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/112056444475141991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2005/07/well-back-to-grind-today-after.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14079361.post-112013324669857904</id><published>2005-06-30T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T05:21:06.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/62/6653/640/meandjoey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660066 3px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660066 3px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660066 3px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660066 3px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/62/6653/320/meandjoey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Joey in Cape May, NJ on New Year's Day 2005 &lt;a href="http://www.hello.com/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" alt="Posted by Hello" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif" align="absMiddle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14079361-112013324669857904?l=erikaandjoey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/feeds/112013324669857904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14079361&amp;postID=112013324669857904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/112013324669857904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14079361/posts/default/112013324669857904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erikaandjoey.blogspot.com/2005/06/me-and-joey-in-cape-may-nj-on-new.html' title=''/><author><name>Erika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13027444086282716081</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
