<?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-5060285</id><updated>2011-10-13T22:37:54.611-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Contradictions</title><subtitle type='html'>Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity!  Give peace a chance!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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>83</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-107582234422120099</id><published>2004-02-03T10:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-03T10:34:40.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming back after a long time...</title><content type='html'>Sorry if it took so long to write, but I don't have a computer with Internet at my appart and I am working so hard at my job - selling pastries and sandwiches... - and at my acting classes.  But now, auditions for the two first theatre school are over - gladly, I could not get even worst and worst...  I had a bad audition... Very bad! I can now spenda little more time telling you how I feel.  Not too often, cause I don't have the net at home and I have two other pages - in French this time- to update, but I'll try not to leave you alone.  Still that's it for now, cause I work this afternoon, but I'll come back the soonest I can. Have a nice day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-107582234422120099?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/107582234422120099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/107582234422120099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107582234422120099' title='Coming back after a long time...'/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105956987062644029</id><published>2003-07-30T08:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-30T08:57:50.613-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not a lot to say.  I move on August 24, I love my job because it is relax, I am reading a damn good book (Misery - Stephen King), I will travel during one week with my man and my family when my job will be over, I'll soon have my REAL licenses for driving...  I am fine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105956987062644029?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105956987062644029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105956987062644029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_27_archive.html#105956987062644029' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105906197948410796</id><published>2003-07-24T11:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-24T11:52:59.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am really happy, even though I should maybe not...  I have an audition for a professionnal dance troup (yeh!)...  I won't have it but it is fun nayways...  I'll speak about it later, gone eating.  Mmmmmm.  Food!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105906197948410796?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105906197948410796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105906197948410796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_20_archive.html#105906197948410796' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105846668207123786</id><published>2003-07-17T14:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-17T14:31:22.040-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am mixed up in my feelings right now...  I can't say if I'm angry or sad. &lt;p&gt;I am sad, because my man is angry about me.  I just decided not to go to the country house.  I don't like being there.  It is not my place!  Still, I told him at the last minute, and this is mainly because of a party...  Anyways.  I'll be alone, I'll probably cry, I did when I told him.  I really don't like to be apart of him, plus when his bro is driving.  I know I should not worry, but I am always thinking that something could happen, and then I'll regret not to have been with him.&lt;p&gt;I am angry, because I know I still be the bad one.  I had that "Hey are you just figuration?????" comment, and I still have on my heart.  I hate my father-in-law's comments about me.  I am no sporty girl, I have no interest in playing cards...  I prefer to be on my own, biking or reading than being in a crowd.  This is supposly weird.  They say I am not sociable.  Well, maybe I should be more like Catherine, my bro-in-law's girl.  She is sporty, she is fun, she is willing.  She is the fave one.  I don't really care, I am the first to complain about the fact I feel like if I was going out with my man's family too...  I have trouble with my family, do you imagine with somebody else's...?  Still, I know they'll all think that, and I fucking hate that!!!  Plus, I was supposed to be there.  That will be a massacre!&lt;p&gt;Can't I be myself once in a while without being weird and frustrating somebody??? Argh!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105846668207123786?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105846668207123786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105846668207123786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_13_archive.html#105846668207123786' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105828320721941312</id><published>2003-07-15T11:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-15T11:33:27.193-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel bad.  God made me with eyes that likes boys, but it is a disaster.  I have a boyfriend and I love him, but I can't stop daydreaming...  Plus, we have troubles, so it is worst.  I love him, I truly do, but...  I'm just a fool!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105828320721941312?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105828320721941312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105828320721941312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_13_archive.html#105828320721941312' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105793317997078899</id><published>2003-07-11T10:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-11T10:19:39.933-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Short and sweet!!</title><content type='html'>Everything is fine, don't worry for me people!  I love my job!  Still, I am not motivated today.  I look forward the week-end, even though we'll be at the country house because of my father in law's bday.  I am tired, and would prefer to work on my websites...  Anyways, I gotta do what I gotta do.  And I'm paid for it...  It could be worst...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105793317997078899?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105793317997078899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105793317997078899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105793317997078899' title='Short and sweet!!'/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105779866725789346</id><published>2003-07-09T20:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-09T20:57:47.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I won't write a long letter, still I just wanted to say everything is okay.  Nonews good news!  I love my job.  I love money. I love my man.  I am happy!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105779866725789346?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105779866725789346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105779866725789346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105779866725789346' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105753300405820473</id><published>2003-07-06T19:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-06T19:10:04.073-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1. I hate the "Regates" and Valleyfield &lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. I hate the sun &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I hate clients &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I hate dorks &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I hate to work "not for me" &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I hate noise &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I hate waking up at 5 am on week-ends&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;8. I hate to stand up all day long &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I hate to wait my boyfriend, worried, during hours&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10. I hate to being told he left the country house very late and will arrive in one hour&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;11. I hate when my boyfriend tell me he will eat with me and bring me food, and doesn't &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I hate not having eaten anything at 7pm because there is no fucking food here &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I hate meat &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I hate when there is only meat in the fridge&lt;br&gt; &lt;br /&gt;15. I hate that fucking week-end!!!!!!!!!!!!! &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;THE END!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105753300405820473?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105753300405820473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105753300405820473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_07_06_archive.html#105753300405820473' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105706630059307031</id><published>2003-07-01T09:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-01T09:31:40.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Appart fight!</title><content type='html'>Long time since I wrote....  Sorry!  I'm having fun with &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/pauline_emilienne"&gt;my new page&lt;/a&gt;, in French this time!  This is so cool!  Anyways&lt;p&gt;Not a lot to say.  My man and I have the house for only the two of us, and this is weird.  We never know what to do, what to eat, wait till the last minute to do everything...  But it is fun because it is like a practice for when we'll be in our appart.  We visited it last week.  It is small, but cool!!  I call it the corridor, because it is long but not large!  The appart make me argue with people.  You know, I want it to look like me and my man so much, still I don't like his family's kind of taste about it and I'm scared.  His dad is buying us little statues to put everywhere... AND I HATE THAT!!!!!!!  There will be none in my appart, you can trust me, still I'll probably have to argue with my sweetie!!  We are too different.  I just hope everything will work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105706630059307031?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105706630059307031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105706630059307031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_29_archive.html#105706630059307031' title='Appart fight!'/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-105672818638012969</id><published>2003-06-27T11:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-27T11:36:26.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh, &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com"&gt;blogger&lt;/a&gt; changed...  I don't like that version.&lt;p&gt;I'm ridiculous.  Pathetic.  I passed an interview and they said they wanted someone that were at school.  I lied about it and I got the job.  Still I had to proove I was at school...  Problem!!  So I got at school this morning, getting a school schedule.  So fucking ridiculous.  I'll have to pay to get a job!!  Anyways, I'll have my money back, so it doesn't really matter, but it is ridiculous anyways.&lt;p&gt;That's about it.  Don't have a lot to say...  My shoulders hurt, because I went to the pool Monday and it was too sunny....  I have a job.  And no money.  I saw my appart.  It is so small, but it is ours.  We begin to argue about it.  About how it will look.  I love him, but I think he doesn't have taste about decoration.  Like his parents.  Too much stuff.  We can't see the walls!!  It is horrible. Anyways...&lt;p&gt;I like it, being alone at my man's house.  I feel like in an appart...  I feel independant.  I'll go back to my &lt;a href="http://www.games.com"&gt;Scrabble game&lt;/a&gt;, with my bro.  Take care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-105672818638012969?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105672818638012969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/105672818638012969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_22_archive.html#105672818638012969' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95953290</id><published>2003-06-23T14:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-23T14:07:33.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No job for now.  It will come!!&lt;p&gt;I had a weird week-end.  Tough on my mind, body and soul.  And heart.  It is the national festivities tomorrow and I had to go to the country house for that.  Or nobody knoews what is Saint-Jean about.  We listened to that fucking boring disco cd over and over again.  If I hear Funky Town before I'm 30 yaesr old, I'll cry!!  I am not in the same kind than my family in law.  It just doesn't work.  I try so hard, but sometimes, my mind is too strong and make me say things...  DjiPy says it is mean.  It is not my fault, I'm done like that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95953290?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95953290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95953290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_22_archive.html#95953290' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95869487</id><published>2003-06-20T13:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-20T13:37:55.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Break during job searching! &lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://http://www.fridayfive.org/"&gt;Friday Five&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. &lt;b&gt;Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;My hair is straight and boring.  They are quite short.&lt;p&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;How has your hair changed over your lifetime?&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br&gt;They were blond, I dyed them black, then blue spot, red spots, purple spots (not at the same time) and now they are red-blond.They used to be very long when I was a kid, I cut them under my ears at high school, then very short in College, and now they are a little longer, because of a play&lt;p&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;How do your normally wear your hair?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Kind of pony tail...  But my hair isn't long enough.&lt;p&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt; The same lenght, but pale blond with pink in it.&lt;p&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;Ever had a hair disaster? What happened?&lt;/b&gt;    &lt;br&gt;Always!!  My hair is a disaster.  When I returned to blond, they turned orange.  They decided to curly, but in the ugly way...  I cry and I complain, and that's all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95869487?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95869487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95869487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_15_archive.html#95869487' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95828559</id><published>2003-06-19T10:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-19T10:51:00.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been nearly, yesterday night, drowned by my beloved boyfried wanted to tranfer me shower water in the mouth, lovingly...  I don't fit.  I don't like being hit for fun.  I gets so much frustrations about a lot of things.  I am too much different.  I don't like being outside, I'm allergic of sun, I need a shower for being happy.  This week-end we'll spend together at the country house is gonna be so annoying.  And boring.  Plus, I try to eat healty, they only eat meat.  I love art stuff and I hate sensationnalist stuff, with lots of explosions, no story and Steven Seagal in it.  They love that.  I hate people thinking they know everything, who speaks always about themsleves, who speaks always, who are always behind you saying the same jokes that are not even funny...  I just don't fit there.  I don't fit with my man neither.  We live in two world and I know that.  &lt;b&gt;BUT I LOVE HIM!&lt;/b&gt; I know it will never be like in the movies, because I'm not right for him.  But I can't think of losing him.  I want him forever, and I know he wants to spend his life with me.  I love him so much...........  I hate complicated story.  At least, we're leaving for our own appart...  Maybe it's gonna help.  I hope so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95828559?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95828559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95828559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_15_archive.html#95828559' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95800632</id><published>2003-06-18T15:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-18T15:03:12.096-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>That's it. I'm annoyed of waiting.  I have a rendez-vous at the local search of jobs tomorrow.  I'm moving in two months, that means I gotta have money in two months.  I won't spend the summer waiting for that damned call.&lt;p&gt;I'm looking forward leaving house to live in my own appart.  It is now confirmed.  I learned it is a dangerous neigbourhood, but I don't really care.  I'm just too happy.  DjiPy and i are beginning to get stuff for it.  This is exciting. In fact, this is the only plus in my summer...  Can't you see how boring it is?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95800632?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95800632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95800632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_15_archive.html#95800632' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95733867</id><published>2003-06-16T19:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-16T19:48:15.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Please, please, please.. If someone can help me...  I do ever want to be that pathetic.  My aunt is so... weird and funny.  When she called her man in France (she moves there, that's why I will have her appart in Montreal, yay!), she got, you know, that little fancy, ridiculous, snob french accent.  She isn't like this when she speaks to me!  Ridiculous!&lt;p&gt;There's a guy who wrote in the papers who died today.  If I said he was important to me, I'd kinda lie.  I rarely read his articles, still, he is important to my nation.  He was for independancy of Quebec, and lots of things I beleive in, so his death is sad because we lose someone that believe our province could become a country.  I truly believe so, even so we are a lazy people.  Anyways, this is not about my patriotic and politic point of views today.  This is about my father in law.  He doesn't even know or care about this man, still he speaks about him.  This is also ridiculous.  Blah blah blah!  That gets on my nerves!!   &lt;b&gt;This is a lesson to all you, people&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;: Stop trying to look like you knew a lot of things when you don't.  Tom Green movies are not respected cinema, and for a reason.  Shakespeare and Moliere are not the two only noble theatre writer!  It is not because you put on classical music during important dinners that you know a lot about music.  &lt;/b&gt;This is so annoying!!!!  And he is so close minded.  The other day, there was an article at the worst tv news on Earth, the one they watch at DjiPy's house..., on the fact people should not eat meat.  Here he was speaking about them being fucked up and not knowing anything!  False!  Human beings should not eat meat.  Our body isn't made for that.  I don't want to stop eating meat, but I don't eat much.  I care about my cholesterol!  I'll stop, 'cause I could be mean, but it gets on my nerves!!  And he do boring jokes (the same over and over again), and he thinks he's funny, and he laughs out loud, and he speaks loud...  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!  This is weird but I miss my house!  I gotta love my man very much to live here everyday.  I love that guy so much!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95733867?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95733867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95733867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_15_archive.html#95733867' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95725018</id><published>2003-06-16T14:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-16T14:31:06.213-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Guess who hasn't call yet!  So you know i have nothing new to say.  I went to school camp (my teaching job) for the last time today.  I'm waiting for cash because I only have 60 dollars left.  I'm bored and have nothing to do.  Still, I found myself a new idea:  I will try to replay guitare.  I used to play, but since my accident, I stopped.  And I'll check my pics.  I have lots of pics in my room...  I found myslef some little jobs to occupy myself.  I am so bored.&lt;p&gt;DjiPy and I are together since one year and 7 months today.  It is serious as you see.  We fight often since a while, but I love him and I know he loves me.  We are much too different, I guess.  Anyways, I really want to pend my life with him and I hope it is gonna happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95725018?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95725018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95725018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_15_archive.html#95725018' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95596623</id><published>2003-06-12T13:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-12T13:14:37.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;big&gt;Bored!!&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  Will I get this job someday???  I begin to be tired to go distance everyday to wait for a call that won't ever come!!  She said she'd call wether or not she would give me the job, but if she haven't done it before 5 o'clock, I'll print CV and give them away!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95596623?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95596623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95596623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95596623' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95561330</id><published>2003-06-11T15:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-11T15:54:02.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not much stuff to say.  Since school is over, my life is so boring.  Here is a resume of my life: my boyfriend (our fights and loves), my bed, my books ('cause I read plays a lot), kids I hate, Mim's new hair and waiting for my appart.  Insteresting, isn't it?  It think it is pretty boring.  Anyways, the girl haven't call yet for the job, and I begin to be a little angry and mad.  I need money and I would like to know if I got the job or not, you know.  She said she'd call me, negative or positive answer.  It has a week since she were supposed to call me. !@#@#$%%??&lt;p&gt;I'm looking forward to see my man tonight.  I miss him... very much.  He he!&lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt; &lt;img src="http://home.neo.rr.com/bugslair/sextest/kitten.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the &lt;a href="http://home.neo.rr.com/bugslair/sextest/comparison.htm"&gt;What&lt;br /&gt;animal best portrays your sexual appetite??&lt;/a&gt; Quiz &lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95561330?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95561330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95561330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95561330' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95516161</id><published>2003-06-10T14:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-10T14:30:37.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;big&gt;THE DEVILS WON THE STANLEY CUP!!  YAY!! I may just be a girl, but I was right and you were not, you big selfish men. :P&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;The woman for the job (guess) haven't call and I hate my job at school.  In fact I don't hate the job, I'm having fun, but I hate students!  Twelve years old kids are so dumb.  "I'm a "yo" so I don't like you because you are black" or "you have bad hair" or "you are a girl" or something like that.  What a good society they're gonna be!  Yay! (By the way, that was sarcastic...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95516161?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95516161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95516161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95516161' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95477031</id><published>2003-06-09T15:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-09T15:35:54.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just came back from job.  Worst day ever!  I hate kids (&lt;small&gt;lie!&lt;/small&gt;)!  Anyways...  I'm tired and a little angry.  Plus, I think my jeans make me a big butt.  That's terrible.  There's nothing new in my life after that.  I think it has been two weeks I wrote that but the woman for the job haven't called yet.  Maybe my psycho-test of last week wasn't that good.  Anyways, any dumb is able to answer the phone.  I would be good, because I am friendly and have a beautiful voice (that's what Chloe said today).  Talking about her, she read the lines of my hand today.  She says my soul is old, I'm more sensual than romantic, but there is a good stability, I'm gonna live old and have a lot of great breakings in my life.  Breakings?  I may sound fucked up but it scares me.  I don't want it to mean that I am someday gonna lose DjiPy.  I mean, I don't want him to leave me and I don't want to ever leave him.  I want all my kids with him, and I am so sure I could love him all my life I could marry him tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95477031?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95477031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95477031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95477031' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95412645</id><published>2003-06-07T15:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-07T15:57:45.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://saturday8.blogspot.com/"&gt;Saturday-8&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;b&gt;"What If..."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if a million dollars fell off a back of a truck. Would you keep it?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is a destiny thing...  That is not fair, I know, but I might keep it...  That's maybe a gift from God or a tool I ma use to achieve my destiny...  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if you were most powerful person in the world. How would you use that power?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end Bush reign, first, and stop wars...  Then make everyone fans of a great actress... myself.  *LoL*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if had exactly one year to live. What are the three things you'd want to do before you died?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some things I have to say to people I love.  I'd tell everyone I love them and to my theatre gals what they should change in their acting, even though it may be shocking.  Then, have a kid.  I know it is weird because I couldn't see him/her grow, but his/her father would and I really would like my man to have something to remember me other than pics.  Then I would try to make a name for myself.  I would act and sing everywhere,  would be very audacious to make people remember me.  And buy lots of things, shop a lot, and wear different  clothes everyday.  Hey!  It is my last year right!  I can make me happy a little. I would go to every show I want and read every plays of history.  I think that is okay.  And buy stuff to friends and loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if you could change one thing about the world. What would that one thing be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Give peace a chance!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if you could take one thing back. What would that one thing be? What is something you said, something you stole, something you did wrong?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was young and my grandfather was sick.. he always been sick.  They baptized me in my gradparents living room because he was too sick to go to church, you know what I mean...  He was to the hospital.  I was at my friend's house, speaking on the phone to my mom when her mom ask me to ask my mother something.  I didn't understand everything but I heard somthing about death...  So I though my friend's mom were asking if my grandpa was dead.  So guess what I asked.  Still, she wanted to know who was dead in the vilage lately because they were burrying somebody this day...  I still feel back.  I didn't wanted to look fool, so I didn't show I didn't understand...  Yeah, I feel bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if you were stuck on an island forever but had all the water, food and shelter you needed. What would be the three other things you'd bring with you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DjiPy (my man) is the first thing I need, because I could not live without him.  I love him so much.  Then...  A shower!  That's what I hate the most of the country house.  I need a shower with warm water to feel fine.  I don't care about tv, or anything, but I do care about a shower.  Then, I 'd say a theater, so I could play and see plays, a see concert and do concert and stuff...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if the internet didn't exist? How do you think people would communicate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phone and letters used to be important.  I still prefer to speak to the phone than chat.  Without internet people would phone and write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;What if everyone liked each other. What would we complain about?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That would be borring I guess.  I need to gossip and bitch.  It keeps me healty. *LoL*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95412645?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95412645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95412645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95412645' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95382511</id><published>2003-06-06T15:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-06T15:38:15.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What can I say?  I'm bored.  The woman for the job didn't call yet.  I have a headache.  The students this morning were terrible.  I'm mad.  I don't know what to do.  Nothing fine on TV.  Don't wanna clean my room.  Just want DjiPy here with me.  Now.  And my friends.  I miss them. &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fridayfive.org/"&gt;Friday Five&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. &lt;b&gt;How many times have you truly been in love?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Twice, but only one worked out.&lt;p&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;What was/is so great about the person you love(d) the most?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;DjiPy is perfect for me.  He is caring, affectionnate, funny, cute, romantic (even though he doen't think so).  Even his flaws make him sweet and adorable for me. &lt;p&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;What qualities should a significant other have?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;I think caring is the most important thing.  I am a girl who loves to take care of other, specially of those I love, still, I deeply hate when that care isn't back at all.&lt;p&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;Have you ever broken someone's heart?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;  Yeah and the worst is that he was my best friend.  I can't even say why I said no.  Maybe I wasn't ready and I was scared.  Or maybe I am just too selfish and didn't wanted to prove my friends they were right about Ian and I.&lt;p&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;If there was one thing you could teach people about love, what would it be?&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;br&gt;Don't search for love, 'cause you won't find it.  Let it happen.  Oh, and you first have to love yourself before someone like you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95382511?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95382511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95382511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95382511' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95335678</id><published>2003-06-05T13:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-05T13:45:12.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not much to say again.  I'll spend the week-end without my lover and it makes me feel bad.  Already.  God, I'm really addicted to that guy!!  Anyways.  I went to the place I allplied to work at this morning.  I thought it was to talk about when I'll begin and everything... No.  I just passed a psychotest or something like it to know if I'm a good girl to work there.  Come on, everyone can talk to the phone.  Even though I'm a theatre freak girl.  I think.  We'll see if I have the job.  She's supposed to call today or tomorrow.  Pray for me.  I need a job.  I'm broke and if I wanna leave house next year with my man...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95335678?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95335678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95335678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95335678' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95248917</id><published>2003-06-03T15:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-03T15:02:32.473-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not much to say today.  I know I won't sleep and I will feel bad in not long.  I won't see DjiPy for almost two days.  I miss him already.  I love him so much!  He's all I want.  He's all I need.  I know I won't sleep with him tonight and it scares me.  I'm a scared girl.  I'm scraed of everything.  I often have nightmares.  Still, when DjiPy is in my bed, when I wake up, I look at him, I give him a little kiss I go near enough of him to feel his heat and I try to fall asleep again, because I know nothing can happen.  We're together and in love.  When he is not there, when I wake up, it is impossible to me to fall asleep once again.  So I can sleep like two hours in a night, and read like 5 hours, and cry the rest of the time.  Very nice! I just hope that play is gonna be very good! &lt;b&gt;PS: &lt;/b&gt;I didn't have the call for the job yet...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95248917?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95248917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95248917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95248917' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95204683</id><published>2003-06-02T15:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-02T15:41:31.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Test time guys!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt; &lt;a target="_blank" href="http://www.mis-focus.com/quiz/underwear.html"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.mis-focus.com/quiz/boxers1.jpg" width="150" height="63" border="0"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/a&gt;Your the boxers.  You leave everything to the last minute.  Never on time for anything.  And always caring about others before yourself.&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://www.mis-focus.com/quiz/underwear.html"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt; Which underwear are you?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95204683?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95204683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95204683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95204683' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95203563</id><published>2003-06-02T15:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-02T15:11:57.150-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Still waiting for that damn call.  Wish I'll get the job.  It's sunny outside, but I won't go out.  even to show my beautiful look today, my new orange shirt and smile.  Waiting for the call.  &lt;p&gt;It have been a strange week-end.  My concert wasn't the best.  I'm angry.  I ruined my tunes, still I have been told I'm very talented, with a good scene sense.  Nice!  I dedicated a song to my loved one... still I forgot half of the song, I'm angry!!!!  Anyways.  The worst is about His eye is one the sparrow.  The pianist wasn't on the right tonality, the background vocalist wasn't at  the good places, and I forgot my lyrics, because of all this.  Really, I have troubles with lyrics...  Then, we argued all week-end long, my lover and I, until yesterday.  He paid the movies.  We watched THE MATRIX RELOADED.  Nice movie.  I like the first best.  I think it is more surprising.  It was new!  After that we argued again, about a shoe shopping thing (really stupid fight), then, at the evening.  He began to be so sweet, and nice, and sexy...  I had a great night, if you see what you mean.  We have forgiven each other for all the things we told each other...  I love him.  I'm mean sometimes, but I wanna keep him.  I love him so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95203563?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95203563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95203563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95203563' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95090169</id><published>2003-05-30T14:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-30T14:14:31.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello group!  I hope you're all doing fine.  I'm okay.  I'm waiting for that call.  Oh please, I want the job!!!!&lt;p&gt;I'm very nervous.  I have a concert tonight.  Maybe I should practice right now.  Anyways...  I'm confident.  Nothing else to say.  Having a quite boring day.&lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trinitykiss.com/time"&gt;&lt;img src="http://members.aol.com/trinitykiss/images/t60s.gif" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trinitykiss.com/time"&gt;Which era in time are you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.drudabear.com/fignewtonaward.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.drudabear.com/quiz4.htm"&gt;See what drug you are.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95090169?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95090169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95090169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95090169' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-95037987</id><published>2003-05-29T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-29T11:50:34.170-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I AM SO BORED!  It si always the same when I spend the day at DjiPy's home.  He works today.  I woke up early enough to have the computer, still, I'm already bored.  I'll probably finish the day reading the same boring book I just finished or sleeping or watching a movie I've seen ten thousand times.  I should not stay here.  It gets on my nerves.  I begin to think of going back at my house, with my own family, still I would miss DjiPy so much.  I'm bored of being here.  I'm no veggie gal, but I like to eat healty, lots of cheeze, pastas and vedgetables.  He, the meals are : meat and patatoes.  Almost everyday!!  Or pasty with meat in it!!  I just think of my cholestherol!! Oh my!!  I got more weight since I live here.  DjiPy's father says it is a good thing...  No!  I'm not that skinny obssessed gal but I want to fit in my clothes, damn it.  Do you know how much it cost??  And I can't do anything on my own.  I am on the computer, they'll check what I'm doing.  Etc.  Aaaaaargh!  And I am the mean one because I decided not to go to some religious family party because it was Mothers' day the next day and I wanted to spend time with my mom.  We had a day at Montreal, shopping, already plan.  Because I always plan.  I know what I'll do weeks before it's happen.  I'm a busy girl!  They always plan the activites at the last second, and makeme feel like I am the mean one.  I've got organization, I'm not cruel!  And I hate being at the country house.  I need a shower to be happy.  That's the only thing I need for happiness.  That's what is missing, but they have X-box!  Damn it!  And the same jokes since Ilive here everyday.  I'll go crazy!  And, the worst thing, I feel like if I lives in a middle ages family.  On the sex fact.  I mean, I am a girl.  So I'm not supposed to know things about hockey and I should love some player because they are cute.  That's all.  If I had a car crash, that's because I drive like  a girl and girl are bad drivers.  I am a victim.  I am just a girl!  I cannot dream of driving a Honda CRV, thats not a girl car.  &lt;i&gt;What is a girl anyways?&lt;/i&gt; Am I supposed to be cute, non moving, like a porcelain doll.  I hope not, DjiPy will be sad; I am much more smart.  He always want everything to fall in his hands.  He is more intelligent than me, I know, still...  Anyways.  I'm not supposed to be good at vodeo games.  So when I beat someone, that's luck.  When I lose, everyone laugh at me.  I can't stand it anymore.  Yesterday, I had a fight with DjiPy about that.  He told me HE was the man and I was the little girl that thought knew a lot about hockey.  Fuck you.  If even my man can't understand that I hate that, what I am supposed to do?  Crucify myself!?  I don't know what to do.  I can tell DjiPy some stuff I just wrote, but not everything.  He loves it here, still I am not at my place.  I miss home, my mom's food, even our fights.  I gues ours are pretty more smart that theirs.  It is so bad!  I am bored.  I don't know what to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-95037987?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95037987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/95037987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95037987' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94991909</id><published>2003-05-28T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-28T11:16:36.633-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Good!  Now school is finaly really over.  I brought to my acting teacher, who I can name the worst actor director I ever met, the last money I had to bring him.  I'm glad it is over.  I feel free, and I am much more happy.  I sing out loud, laugh all the time and I didn't have a fight with my man since a long time.  We even spoke during an hour yesterday about casting and movies and theatre, and did not  fight even though he can be quite closed-minded about my future profession. He hates theatre, and I hate the fact he doesn't like it at least a little.   I guess the fact school is over and stress is over is a very good thing in my case.  Am I in a vacation?  Right now: yes.  Soon, I can't say.  I have a job interview at 2 o'clock at Vaudreuil.  I hope I'll get the job!!!  I want the job!!  Pray for me!!  Please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94991909?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94991909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94991909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94991909' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94947974</id><published>2003-05-27T13:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-27T13:32:00.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Good day everyone!  I just finished my day teaching.  It was cool.  I realy liked that.  I can be intense if I know nobody is judging me.  I have been doing dumberies (is that a word?) all day long.  I should always be like that.  I could be a great actress and be better at improv.  Anyways, that's all for now.  I don't have a lot to say.  Just looking forward the girl at the job I applied call me.&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.drudabear.com/dilaward.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.drudabear.com/quiz2.htm"&gt;See what Rugrat you are.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94947974?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94947974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94947974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94947974' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94902002</id><published>2003-05-26T12:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-26T13:07:43.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What a horrible week-end that ends.  I crashed my car, because of a dumb dyied blond.  I hate that bitch!  Anyways!  I was so angry Friday that I could not write a note about it in my blog.  Still now, it is okay, kind of.  So... &lt;p&gt;I don't know...  My acting teaching job sucks a little.  I only have 17 hours in four weeks.  So I decided to find another job.  Mireille want me to work at her job.  It would be nice, her boss agree.  Still, I would sacrifice my week-ends.  And cash for gaz; it is far from my home.  My mom found something too, still, I have to call.  I am so shy!  I hate to be shy!!!!  I am frustrated against me.  I want this job!&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://strictlyshoujo.com/goodies/quiz.html"&gt;&lt;img src="http://strictlyshoujo.com/goodies/images/g_usagi.jpg" width="252" height="150" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;You are &lt;b&gt;Tsukino Usagi&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;You are love food, boys, shopping, and hanging out with your friends. You tend to cry when things get too hard, and have trouble doing things right the first time.  You probably need to study a little harder. Your faith in the basic goodness of all people keeps you on the right track, even when others don't see it.&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://strictlyshoujo.com/goodies/quiz.html"&gt;Take the "What Magic Girl are you?" Quiz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;table width="350" border="0" bgcolor="#FF70CC"&gt;&lt;tr bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;td width="125" align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.suzaku.info/quiz/images/lovealot.jpg"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td  bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font size="3" color="#FF70CC"&gt;Love-a-Lot Bear&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;font color="#FF70CC"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;You love to take care of others and people love being around you because you make them feel appreciated. You are very sweet and soft-spoken. You are also a romantic and consider yourself an excellent matchmaker, so you tend to be a bit nosy. But everyone still considers you the sweetest person they know.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr bgcolor="#FF70CC"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.suzaku.info/quiz/carebears.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;font color="#FFFFFF"&gt;Take the &lt;i&gt;Which Care Bear Are You?&lt;/i&gt; Quiz!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="arial"&gt;&lt;img src="http://members.aol.com/groovydougie/quizzes/stripes.gif"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://members.aol.com/groovydougie/quizzes/pattern.htm"&gt;What Pattern Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94902002?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94902002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94902002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94902002' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94701796</id><published>2003-05-21T16:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-21T16:16:57.970-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;big&gt;Vacation's where I wanna be&lt;br&gt;Buddy on the beach where the fun is free&lt;br&gt;We don't need a holiday to start to celebrate&lt;br&gt;Repeat after me, "I need a vacation"&lt;br&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;small&gt;&lt;i&gt;Vitamin C - Vacation&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yay!  I feel fine today!  I went to school to end all the stuff I had to do about my last session.  I just have to remember to go see the A.P.I. (pedagogical helper) to check how to do my last class by the Internet.  I went shopping too.  I used to hate Wal-Mart, because it is too Commercial, too Amercan, too McDonald's production, too capitalist.  I went today.  I spend money.  I had fun (weird...)  Who cares it is capitalist?  I'll be angry after them!...  when I won't need to go shopping and pay less.  He he!  I am not as tough, as hard as I could be.  What's happening to me???  Aaaaah!  He he!  I just feel fine today!  Sunny and smily!  I'm having a good day!  And I miss DjiPy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94701796?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94701796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94701796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94701796' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94641853</id><published>2003-05-20T13:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-20T15:28:37.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Test time!&lt;p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;img src="http://www.the-stargazer.com/images/jpwom.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.the-stargazer.com/fashion.html" target=_new&gt;&lt;font face="Verdana" size="1"&gt;What &lt;br /&gt;kind of clothes should I be wearing?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;font face="Verdana" size="1"&gt; by &lt;a href="http://www.the-stargazer.com" target="_blank"&gt;Evelyn&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wiredreflection.com/tests/pets.html"target="new"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.wiredreflection.com/tests/ryooki.jpg"border=0 frameborder=0 alt="You are Ryo-oki!"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the &lt;a href="http://www.wiredreflection.com/tests/pets.html" target="new"&gt; "Which Anime pet are you?" &lt;/a&gt; test!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;center&gt;I am 23% Internet Addict&lt;BR&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fuali.com/default.aspx?id=102" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.fuali.com/pix/102/1.gif" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt;I am amazed that I even found this test.  This is my first time online, isn't it great, I figured out this AOL-thing!  But I don't quite know how to turn the computer off.&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fuali.com/default.aspx?id=102" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Take the Internet Addict Test at fuali.com &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94641853?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94641853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94641853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94641853' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94636138</id><published>2003-05-20T11:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-20T11:08:11.476-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, school is finally over.  I have a one week holiday because Monday, I will have a job.  I'm teaching acting!!! Isn't that fantastik!  Julie D., my boss and improv coach, called me this morning to announce me that.  I am so happy.  I am floating!  Plus, it is sunny, and Val and Maude, the two actresses in mt acting class I found the most impressive, told me I was good and improving.  Mireille told me I was one of the best in the play.  That's nice.  I still have lots of work to do on my acting, I need technique, but I am not affraid.  I can and I am capable of anything, because I now believe truly in me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94636138?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94636138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94636138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94636138' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94519343</id><published>2003-05-17T22:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-17T22:38:56.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;big&gt;Here is a letter to my man, because I miss him so.&lt;/big&gt;  DjiPy I love you!&lt;p&gt;My love,&lt;br&gt;we haven't see each other since more than 24 hours right now.  I miss you so much, you wouldn't even believe it.  Please, give me some news, phone me and tell me you love me and you miss me too.  I wrote you a e-mail, still I miss you even more, so I write you a letter.  If you decide to check my blog then you will se it.  Sorry, other people may see that, but they don't know us so what.  They'll just know Hope loves DjiPy. I love you.  I miss you.   Very much.&lt;br&gt;Did I ever told you how much I love you?  I realized this week-end I lve you even more than I thought.  That's very much love, believe me!  I feel empty when you're not there.  You're like a part of me and I need it to feel fine.  When you're far, I cry and feel bad, I don't want to do anything, I am worried...  Please, I don't want us to be apart once again, okay, baby.  Life without you is boring.&lt;br&gt;  I have to take my shower.  (Parenthesis... Sorry)  I won't, because I am scared to miss your call, &lt;i&gt;if&lt;/i&gt; you call.  Mom wanted to go to the movies with her and Dad, still I refused (believe it or not), because I tought you would be frustrated if I wasn't there and I would be so sad to miss your call I would cry.  And I cried enough.  I miss you so.  I hate to be apart of you!  &lt;br&gt;I thought of you very much.  Yesterday, to help myself to fall asleep, I imagined you.  I drew you in my mind: your eyes, lips, soft skin, you cute belly, your...  anyways! ;)  You are so beautiful! I imagined my hands on your skin and it was like if I really touched it.  I remembered the last kiss you gave me before leaving for your improv tournament.  I thought of lots of things I can't write here...  Hey hey!  I love you.&lt;br&gt;Fuck it, &lt;big&gt;will you call me someday??&lt;/big&gt; I miss you!  I am worried like a little idiot, and you are having fun at hotel and having partied at your improv tournament.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!  It frustrate me so much!!  I miss you.  Maybe you don't have time to think of me, but &lt;big&gt;I miss you&lt;/big&gt;.  End of the angriness scene.  Sorry.  I miss you so.&lt;br&gt;Okay, now my inspiration is taking its break.  If we were together, that would be the moment when I'd hug you and tell you I adore you.  You are not here, so I'll simply tell you that I love you and that I am looking forward the next time we'll see, we'll hug, we'll sleep together, we'll laugh for nothing...  I love you.  I love you, I love you I loooooooooooooooooove you!!  (Intermission, la la, la, la)  Sorry, I didn't have inspiration and I started talking with my mother about my accident.  It's been a year already.  I'm still hurt.  Nice.  Doctor Levesque is a dumb.  I should have gotten a churgery.  Anyways, pizza should arrives soon.  Yeah, we're having pizza, before Mom and Dad go to the movies and I go... cleaning my room.  Oh yeah, what a wonderful evening!  I would prefer to clean my room with you.  I could take breaks and hug you, and you would finish the job alone, like always.  Hey hey!  Mean, but legal.  Do you remember when I was searching my cell in my room and decided to clean it up to find it.  You did it more than me.  It is not my fault, you're better than me.  I am cleaning up with feeling.  I look at everything, read everything, remember stuff.  That's a technique, but that's not a good one I guess.&lt;br&gt;Pizza!!  I will wait until they call me to go eat, because &lt;big&gt;they&lt;/big&gt; will cal me (Hmm hmm!)  I wonder what you are doing.  I hope everything is fine.  You have a good team, I think.  I hope you're having fun and feeling great.  And that you will cal me!!  I love you.  Oh, they call me, I go eat.  I'm not hungry.  I've ate much at the restaurant, this morning, after my voice lesson.  Still, I want good pizza, hot pizza.  I gotta go. &lt;br&gt;&lt;big&gt;Je t�aime.&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br&gt;Ta petite puce qui t'embrasse partout partout&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://incredible.nu/mine/rugrat.html" target=_blank&gt;&lt;img width=220 height=120 border=0 src="http://incredible.nu/b/rugrat-ang.gif" alt="Which rugrat are you?"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94519343?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94519343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94519343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94519343' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94508217</id><published>2003-05-17T15:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-17T15:19:31.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;I MISS DJIPY!!!&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94508217?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94508217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94508217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94508217' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94410834</id><published>2003-05-15T17:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-15T17:01:29.723-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This have been a strange week.  First, Christian death is kinda weird.  Of course, it makes me sad.  I used to hang out with this guy.  But, more than his death, it is the situation that hurt me.  First, he was twenty.  My man is 20 too, I'm 19.  Death can arrives anytime, and that's scary.  Then, I learned he was a father.  He and his girlfriend have a 5 months old baby.  That's worst!  Life is truly weird.  I was supposed to go to the funerals, but just the tought of seeing my childhood friends, who I haven't met since a while 'cause I thought they were a little too fucked up for me (none, except Christian finished high school and they all take drugs...), and of seeing a dead body in real was scaring me.  So I didn't go.  I think I am ridiculous, but well, that's it. &lt;p&gt;Second, we have been playing &lt;i&gt;Lysistrata&lt;/i&gt; for the first time, Tuesday.  The results?  It wasn't ready, but everyone liked it very much.  And I am a beautiful girl and a damned good actress.  This is not my judgement, I just have been told that.&lt;p&gt;Third, this is my last week in college.  Yay!  It is finished.  There is so many people I won't ever meet in my life.  I'm not that sad, but it's a weird feeling.  I've been exchanging phone numbers, knowing some will never call me...  Weird, but nice anyways.  It is finished.  I just feel liberated!  There's only one exam left.  And a play.  I will miss college, but I'm glad it's over!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94410834?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94410834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94410834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94410834' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94135427</id><published>2003-05-11T01:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-11T01:07:31.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't have a lot to say.  It is late, and I am tired but I know I won't sleep so I've been working on that f***ing big work I'm supposed to do with Stephanie for Monday, and I've watched X-men at TV.  Now, I'm bored, and I miss my man, wich is slepping in his bed right now.  I won't see DjiPy until tommorrow.  I am sad.  We were supposed to go book shopping today but his cousin had her first communion, so he had to go.  I'm mean, I've decided not to go.  I went book shopping with my mom.  It was fun.&lt;p&gt;  There's a guy who died this week in my village.  I now know who it is.  I used to take bus with him to go to high school.  Christine, a ex-friend of mine, used to have a big crush on him.  It is terrible to die at 20 years old.  It really scares me.  I don't wanna die.  Life is a bitch, but I love it, that's okay.  There's too many thing I have to keep.  I'm scared to death of death.&lt;p&gt; I'll go.  Have that homework to do and updates I could do on my page.  Wish I could sleep.  I'm affraid of nightmares and flashbacks.  When DjiPy isn't with me, it happens all the times.  I hate the ex!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94135427?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94135427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94135427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_11_archive.html#94135427' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-94004811</id><published>2003-05-08T14:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-08T14:36:29.456-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm bored.  I'm looking forward the vacations.  My goodness!  Only one week left.  And I don't have a job.  I'm quite a lazy girl.  I didn't search for a job, nor for an appart.  At least, my aut is leaving for France at the end of summer and my mom is trying to get it for me, but ya know, I feel kinda unmotivated.  It is like for acting.  I'm bored of acting class because of the teacher, first, and the students.  The atmosphere is terrible and I don't like that competition.  I don't understand.  I am capable to tell someone I think they are a good actor.  Why can't they do that??  And I work like a fool with the tickets and stuff for that show.  I'll be jiggered!&lt;p&gt;Speaking of working, I still have 300$ to find for theatre.  If I don't, I have to give it from my pocket.  It is for the first of June.  I don't have time and I don't feel like going to shops asking for money again.  I did it too much for that fucking acting class.  I should not have entered the theatre group.  Really!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-94004811?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94004811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/94004811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#94004811' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93957633</id><published>2003-05-07T20:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-07T20:02:36.180-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There's only one week left until &lt;i&gt;Lysistrata&lt;/i&gt;, our school play.  I kinda know my text.  I'll study it.  Anyways, I'm kinda stressed out because of the acting week that is going on.  &lt;b&gt;First&lt;/b&gt;, we have been practicing our play yesterday during four hours and today during, oh my, from 9 to 5.  I'm burnt.  I'm been standing up and laughing loudly during all this time.  My back and my throat hurt a lot.  Jean-Pierre Leduc, our director, is really a bad director.  I hate him more everyday and I reaaly am looking forward the end of the term.  In fact I can't stand him.  Anyways.  &lt;b&gt;Second&lt;/b&gt;, we learned a big news today, at the cafeteria.  Val is going to UQAM in acting.  This is wonderful.  I really do think she is a great talented actress.  JF is accepted at UQAM too.  And Daneau is going to the &lt;i&gt;Conservatoire&lt;/i&gt; in Montreal, the greatest acting school in Quebec, in Canada.  Nice nice nice.  This is sad for those who did not make it and I guess that scares me a lot.  You nknow, I guess there are two sides of me.  One is confident and tells me I cannot be refused everywhere because I am born for that.  The other one tells me I have not enough talent.  I guess I need confidence and motivation.  That's what's missing right now.  I am not motivated at all. Julie, Daneau's girl (for now...) did a speech to some stdents about the interviews in acting school saying that maybe we are not all talented enough and stuff.  I was discouraged at first, but now I tell you, &lt;i&gt;go to hell&lt;/i&gt;.  I feel confident anyways.  I have a good partner (wich is my boyfriend..), and a super coach, who is nice, cute and talented.  And good ideas for scenes.  I'd like to act some Ionesco.  It's gonna be cool.  Believe me. &lt;b&gt;Third&lt;/b&gt;, Mireille is in a phase wich I hate.  She is now the greatest actress on Earth.  And the weirdest fact is that teachers seems to agree.  Jean-Pierre, our &lt;b&gt;wonderful&lt;/b&gt; director, said she should have been Lysistrata, the main role.  I do not agree at all.  All the students either.  And this is not jalousy.  I really examined my mind for that and no, I am not jalous at all.  I think I am more talented than her and more "real".  She is too much.  DjiPy told me she could be a good actress... in a porno movie.  I found that funny.  Mean but legal. Anyways..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93957633?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93957633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93957633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#93957633' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93807098</id><published>2003-05-05T12:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-05T12:18:50.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;big&gt;&lt;b&gt;I feel fine.  It's kinda like summer.  I've been walking outside, wearing a-tshirt!  Yay!  I feel so happy!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93807098?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93807098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93807098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#93807098' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93755271</id><published>2003-05-04T14:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-04T14:35:58.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Julie didn't called me.  I'm kinda worried...  Anyways...&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://home.vicnet.net.au/~kyb/rb/rainbowbrite.htm" target="new"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://home.vicnet.net.au/~kyb/rb/indigo.gif" border=0&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="verdana" size=1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://home.vicnet.net.au/~kyb/rb/rainbowbrite.htm" target="new"&gt;Which Rainbow Brite kid are you?&lt;/a&gt; By &lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=girlsoldier"&gt;&lt;img height="17" border="0" src="http://img.livejournal.com/userinfo.gif" align="absmiddle" width="17"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/girlsoldier/"&gt;Growing&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93755271?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93755271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93755271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_05_04_archive.html#93755271' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93484872</id><published>2003-04-29T16:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-29T16:03:44.540-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm broke.  I tried to buy... some movie at ... some shop and I didn't have enough money.  Stephanie bought it for me.  It was only 17,20$...  It's ridiculous.  That was for a bet with my man...  Anyways.  It means I don't have 20$ lefet.  How will I pay my gas?  I'm broke.  &lt;bIG&gt;BROKE!&lt;/bIG&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93484872?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93484872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93484872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#93484872' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93462380</id><published>2003-04-29T09:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-29T09:02:39.783-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bad day beginning...  I'm mad!  I'm so mad!  Life is a bitch.  No, it's a life.  I'll say like Jean-Paul Sartre: "&lt;i&gt;L'enfer, c'est les autres&lt;/i&gt;." Hell is everybody else!  I'm so mad.  I feel angry. (&lt;b&gt;If you wanna know why, read my imood&lt;/b&gt;...)&lt;p&gt;I think my man takes me for granted. (I don't know if that's the good word, but I heard that in a song...)  This morning, he went away from home without telling me anything.  FALSE! He told me to put off his X-box.  Nad that's it.  No kiss.  No  "Take care", "I love you".  If I did that, he would be so angry.  Last week, I went to my house after school and I told him bto call me when he would be home.  This way, I could meet him during the afternoon.  He was so angry about me because I wasn't already home when he arrived.  He excused himself after, saying he acted stupidly...  And I agree.  I know right I'm acting quite stupidly too, but I am angry.  I love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93462380?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93462380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93462380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#93462380' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93404969</id><published>2003-04-28T11:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-28T11:51:41.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay...  The "Fetes theatrales" are over.  A good thing.  I'm bored of acting and seeing plays for now.  I fucking bored of Mireille...  She slept with a man from Russia or something this week-end, and tells everyone how good it is to sleep with a man you'll never meet again.  That's disgusting, I guess.  She acts like a slut and pass for one.  I won't say what I think...  And I wanna see my man once in a while.  Speaking of men, I met one of my high school friends at the fest.  He's so damn cute.  He changed his look.  And he's a terribly good actor.  And I found a coach for my auditions at acting school.  His name is Patrick, he's energic, nice, cute and I know we gonna do good stuff together.  Acting schools, here I come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93404969?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93404969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93404969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_27_archive.html#93404969' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93129691</id><published>2003-04-23T15:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-23T15:21:27.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The project due day is today.  That's a damn good thing.  I can't stand it.  I can't stand Mireille acting...  She is so...  SO!  I mean, I can't stand to ear her.  She supposed to be thinking of the last time she made love, that's the scenario.  I don't feel like it was fun... *LoL*  And this is too big.  Ooooh!  Please, make that stop!!!!&lt;p&gt;Myriam, a girl who went to my elementary school, told me something funny.  She said her bro, when we were young, was deeply in love with me.  That's funny.  He was so cute!  I wonder if he told me then what would happen.  DjiPy says that the simple think we say can change destiny, that we would maybe never have been friends and lover if I dyed my hair red and not black...  I wonder...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93129691?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93129691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93129691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#93129691' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-93045409</id><published>2003-04-22T09:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-22T09:50:57.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I still have half an hour before class, so I'll write something.  Still, nothing insteresting happened...  I spent the week-end with my man at his family country house, I had a terrible cough all wee-end, I bought myself a child coloring book, I hope Minnessota Wild will win tonight, the Fetes Theatrales begins tomorrow and I present that damn project.  That's gonne be a mess.  I won't see my man much because I am busy and Mister decided to go to the Expos tonight...  I hate baseball.  That's about it.  A week-end resumed in 2 sentences...  Anyways.&lt;p&gt;Oh, and finding an appartement is damn complicated.  I guess I'll still live at my parents in law house next year...  Damn it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-93045409?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93045409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/93045409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_20_archive.html#93045409' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-92852592</id><published>2003-04-18T15:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-18T15:24:34.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>News...&lt;br&gt;We took over the world.  So my improv carrer is maybe at its end.  Sad, I guess.  I'll have time to sleep on Monday and Thursday night...  Anyways.  I learned something because of that.  People you don't think that are gonna be important in your life may be people that you will miss most when it's over.  I knew I would miss Oli, he's my best friend.  But I discovered I really liked Valerie.  We may not be great friends, be there's kind of an affection that was created and I will miss her terribly at the end of the schoolyear. A great actress, a terrible bitch, a beautiful girl and I wish somebody with whom I will keep in touch.  That's weird I guess.  I feel kinda nostalgic, still, I'm happy.  Never thought I'd feel like that.  Anyways...&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://fridayfive.org/"&gt;Friday Five&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;1. Who is your favorite celebrity?&lt;br&gt;I would say... Well I don't know.  Johnny Depp.  He's my childhood crush and a damn good actor.  A real actor.  Oooooh!  I can't say.&lt;p&gt;2. Who is your least favorite?&lt;br&gt;Guess who?  Britney!&lt;p&gt;3. Have you ever met or seen any celebrities in real life?&lt;br&gt;None you may know.  Some Quebec's actors and humorists, and that's all.&lt;p&gt;4. Would you want to be famous? Why or why not?&lt;br&gt;Yeah, for an actress, that wuld be a good thing, but not terribly famous.  Just known to be talented.  Like actors in Quebec... I don't like the US star system.&lt;p&gt;5. If you had to trade places with a celebrity for a day, who would you choose and why?&lt;br&gt;I would say Avril Lavigne.  First, she has good songs, and she's real.  Second, because she's real, her life must be kinda fun...  Anyways...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-92852592?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92852592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92852592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92852592' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-92720533</id><published>2003-04-16T11:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-16T11:40:54.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My God, seems like an eternity since my last update.  I'm so busy!  This is terrible.  Acting classes, the theatre team, improv (we're semi-finalist!), the end project, school, my man, voice lessons, DjiPy's improv....    Aaaaaagh!  This is too much for me!  Plus, next week, we present three plays in a big fest.  I had three practice today, I'll go only to one.  I'm so stressed out I lost my voice.  My throat was hurting since last Wednesday, that's why I had trouble at my French "recital" where I was supposed to sing.  That was terrible.  Then my voice became okay.  It hurted, but just enough, ya know.  But now!  I can't speak, I can't eat...  I'm going crazy.  I woke up at 5 am because it hurt.  I went to the doctor this morning.  We'll see what it is tomorrow.  Hope it's okay for improv finals tomorrow and for the fest, next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-92720533?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92720533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92720533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_13_archive.html#92720533' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-92430132</id><published>2003-04-11T10:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-11T10:52:36.716-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fridayfive.org/"&gt;Friday Five&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. What was the first band you saw in concert?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will laugh...  It is the Backstreet Boys.  I was twelve and so in love with Brian...  *LoL*&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. Who is your favorite artist/band now?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't there is too many band.  I'd say "Les Cowboys fringants", a Quebec's band with political funny songs.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. What's your favorite song?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know again.  "Ne me quitte pas", from Jacques Brel, maybe?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. If you could play any instrument, what would it be?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harp.  It is sexy and so cool, romantic, stuff.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. If you could meet any musical icon (past or present), who would it be and why?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn't easy neither, but it would be Jacques Brel.  He is my favourite song writer. 25 years after his death, his songs are still popular and sung in French and in English.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-92430132?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92430132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92430132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_06_archive.html#92430132' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-92428283</id><published>2003-04-11T10:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-11T10:26:55.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;BIG&gt;TEST:  So who am I anyway?&lt;p&gt;&lt;/BIG&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;b&gt;Quiet or Loud? &lt;/b&gt;Both&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;Short or Tall? &lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Short, very short.  I am 5'' tall.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;Weird or Original? &lt;/b&gt;Weird!  A phenomenon.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;Pretty or Cute?&lt;/b&gt;Cute!  Mim says people loves me because I'm petite and cute...  &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;Nice or Mean? &lt;/b&gt;Nice, much too nice.  Mean in my head only.  I could be evil. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;b&gt;Friendly or Selfish? &lt;/b&gt;Friendly , I guess!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;b&gt;Normal or Special?: &lt;/b&gt;Special.. or weird&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;b&gt;Smart or Stupid?: &lt;/b&gt;Stupid, in a cute way.  But I'm smart anyways.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;b&gt;Boring or Fun?: &lt;/b&gt;Depends when.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;b&gt;Attractive or Unattractive?: &lt;/b&gt;Attractive, I guess.  Mireille said she should kill me when I wear my blue shirt...  I guess I'm attractive.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;AM I:&lt;/big&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;b&gt;A psycho?: &lt;/b&gt;I don't think so.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;Athletic?: &lt;/b&gt;If imprv and wreastling in bed a sport, so I am! *LoL*&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;A nerd?: &lt;/b&gt;Glasses doesn't make the nerd.  Good grades too.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;A slut?: &lt;/b&gt;No&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;Ghetto? &lt;/b&gt;???&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;b&gt;A Bitch?: &lt;/b&gt;When I'm angry, yes, yes, yes!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;b&gt;A Player?: &lt;/b&gt;No&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;b&gt;Two-faced?: &lt;/b&gt;We are all, I guess!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;b&gt;Obnoxious?: &lt;/b&gt;yes&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;b&gt;Immature or mature?: &lt;/b&gt;immature sometimes, mature the rest of the time.&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;JUST SOME QUESTIONS... &lt;p&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;b&gt;What do I think I'll be when I grow up?: &lt;/b&gt;an actress!!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;Do I think I'll get married?:&lt;/b&gt;yes &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;b&gt;who do I think I'll marry?: &lt;/b&gt;Jean-Pierre Bergevin, my man, my lover, the prince charming!!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;When is my birthday?: &lt;/b&gt;April 1st 1984&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;Who is my best friend?: &lt;/b&gt;Julie Boisvert and Olivier Legault&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;What song (if any) reminds me of me?: &lt;/b&gt;On my own (The Miserables)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;b&gt;Do I remind me of any characters on TV?: &lt;/b&gt;Anais Fontaine (Le plateau), or Bubbles (Powerpuff girls)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;b&gt;What animal am I most like?: &lt;/b&gt;cats&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8&lt;b&gt;. If I could re-name me, what would I call me?: &lt;/b&gt;Hope&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;b&gt;If I could describe me in one word what would it be?: &lt;/b&gt;romantic&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/A/atotalblamblam/1038622715_t_thecount.jpg" border="0" alt="The Count"&gt;&lt;br&gt;The Count's Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started with a simple affection for counting and&lt;br&gt;the terror it induced in others, didn't it?&lt;br&gt;But now it's turned into a full-blown life-&lt;br&gt;consuming chaotic nightmare of order,&lt;br&gt;repetition, zealousness, and perfectionism.&lt;br&gt;You used to be so grand, but now you find&lt;br&gt;yourself obsessively worrying over the littlest&lt;br&gt;things--like, maybe if you don't check the&lt;br&gt;light switch at least once every two minutes,&lt;br&gt;the electricity will go out (and damnit, you're&lt;br&gt;a vampire--that shouldn't be a problem!), or&lt;br&gt;maybe if you don't wash your hands until your&lt;br&gt;seams are coming out, you'll get some fatal&lt;br&gt;disease.  Get yourself some treatment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/atotalblamblam/quizzes/Which%20Sesame%20Street%20Muppet's%20Dark%20Secret%20Are%20You%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;Which Sesame Street Muppet's Dark Secret Are You?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-92428283?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92428283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92428283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_06_archive.html#92428283' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-92426036</id><published>2003-04-11T09:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-11T09:39:04.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, it's been a long time and lots of things happened!  First, we won the Tiers.  It is the first time Valleyfield wins.  Yay!  I won the 3rd star of the last match and Jessica told me it was Sphie Caron, a girl from the national league, that insisted for this star.  That's nice.  That tournament made me gain confidence.  And I nearly kiss a Sherbrooke guy in an improvisation.  That's funny. Still, it stole all my energy.  Since the beginning of the week, I was so tired and angry and stuff.  DjiPy too.  So we took a day together yesterday.  He called sick.  I missed my relaxation class and we slept together, played X-box, and did stuff you don't wanna hear...  He he!  I am now so fine.  It did a lot of good things.  And my couple is only better now.  I had difficulties to go out of the house because DjiPy didn't want to let me go.  He said he loved me about 60 times in half an hour.  Life is beautiful. &lt;P&gt;The sad fact now.  Julie and Olivier aren't a couple anymore.  Olivier is very sad.  That's what Marc told me because I didn't succeed in my tries to call him and e-mail him.  I am worried because he is the kind of guy that loves too much and you know, I don't want him to do stuff he could regret.  I'll try to call him again this week-end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-92426036?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92426036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/92426036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_04_06_archive.html#92426036' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91862649</id><published>2003-04-02T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-02T14:54:30.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>DjiPy and I are okay.  We talked yesterday.  He still doesn't understand that it pains me a lot to fight with him, even thought I know the subject isn't serious, but it helped me to talk.  I love him and he loves me.  Everything is fine.  He have been very nice with me yesterday because it was my birthday.  He was my slave.  He did lots of things, like an enormous massage, and even cooked for me.  It was fun!  I don't wanna lose him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91862649?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91862649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91862649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91862649' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91783742</id><published>2003-04-01T13:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-01T13:00:00.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm 19 today and I don't wanna talk to anybody.  Thank you!  If my year is like today, I'd better kill myself.  That's it.  End of the entry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91783742?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91783742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91783742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91783742' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91729654</id><published>2003-03-31T15:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-31T15:48:24.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I read a terrible story about war in &lt;a href="http://islam4real.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tora Bora's blog&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  Here it is. A must read! &lt;P&gt;CNN/Reuters: News reports have filtered out early this morning that US forces have swooped on an Iraqi Primary School and detained 6th Grade teacher Mohammed Al-Hazar.&lt;P&gt;Sources indicate that, when arrested, Al-Hazar was in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a set square and a calculator. US President George W Bush argued that this was clear and overwhelming evidence that Iraq indeed possessed weapons of maths instruction.&lt;P&gt;Funny, isn't it? I decided it was my day to joke a little.  Come on, I'm pretty, nearly 19 &lt;b&gt;(tomorrow!!!!)&lt;/b&gt;, full of energy, in the Tiers team!  Julie D., my coach, is in her periods again, or she act like it.  Fuck off.  I don't have to care about her way to act with me.  DjiPy and I have fights.  So who cares?  I'm sad about it, this is true, still I love him and I know he loves me.  We'll spend the rest of our days together.  It's normal we don't always agree.  Mireille is thinking she is the greatest ass on Earth.  So who cares, she is not!  She can't even act correctly!  Everybody is angry and anxous because of the Tiers this week-end.  Relax!  &lt;big&gt;Don't worry, be &lt;b&gt;happy&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;/big&gt;  I don't feel like wasting the rest of my days worrying about what is going on in everybody's life.  Mother Teresa can't stand it anymore. &lt;i&gt;Je suis � boutte!!!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91729654?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91729654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91729654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91729654' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91648943</id><published>2003-03-30T09:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-30T09:39:37.153-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, this is my last week-end.  Next week, it's the Tiers.  I won't even sleep in the same room than my boyfriend.  I'm kinda frustrated and sad about it.  It may look ridiculous, but I can't sleep without him near of me.  I do nightmares.  I remember stuff I don't want to remember.  I dream of the ex.  I dream of war and terrorism and stuff that makes a lot of dead people.  I'm scared.  Talking about war, Martine told me she read in a newspaper that US have terrorist camp, a little like the jews camp in World War two.  I don't know if this is true, but that's a little freaky!  I should stop arguing about war.  It makes fights between my man and I.  I know I'm right.  I mean I'm against it, but I know it is impossible to play fair in a war.  DjiPy is angry against me because I didn't scream or something when I heard that disgusting thing People in Iraq did.  You know, killing soldiers while holding a white flag.  This is truly disgusting, but we're in war.  I assume.  US army will do stuff too.  That's why I'm against war.  Can't you see how horrible it is? &lt;P&gt;I went to the Opera last night.  Really!  The weird fact is that I loved that!  That was cool.  And i'm able to sing it.  This was "Die Zibberflote", a Mozart thing.  Anyways, that was cool.  &lt;P&gt;My man will go to the University next year!  Yay!  The problem is we have to find an appartment in Montreal, this is tough.  Anyways, I am really happy about it.  And he is so cute right now, with is new glasses and short hair.  He cut is hair for my birthday!  Talking about did, &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tuesday is my birtday!!!!!  &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91648943?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91648943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91648943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_30_archive.html#91648943' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91416956</id><published>2003-03-26T10:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-26T10:55:32.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>People tend to say much but to do little.  In my French class, we had to resume chapter of an annoying book.  We were supposed to give that to the teacher on April 24.  Still, she decided she wants that work this week.  I'm not ready.  It's not an organization thing, ya know, but I decide to do it slowly.  I have much work to do outside French class. Well, i was angry and went to the student association to complain.  Mathieu, a friend of mine working there, told me it was okay but needed prooves.  He told me to tell people in my class to go tell him what happened.  Nobody wants it.  They're gonna do what the teacher asks them to do.  I guess it is terrible.  Nobody can't satnd her.  Everyone complain.  Nobody, tough, is ready to help someone that is ready to do something.  That's dumb.  I'll never do anything to help a group again.&lt;P&gt;I decided something kinda weird.  If there is a Star Academie 2, I'll try it.  Flow of weird hope floating in my mind.  ANd I was hating that show before it begains.  Anyways.  *Love*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91416956?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91416956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91416956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_23_archive.html#91416956' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91362748</id><published>2003-03-25T14:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-25T14:53:12.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No, no, I won't say anything about Iraq today.  I'd just like to congratulate &lt;big&gt;Micheal Moore&lt;/big&gt; for the oscar he won for his wonderful movie &lt;i&gt;Bowling for Columbine&lt;/i&gt;.  And I have to say his speech about war was wonderful. "Shame on you, Mister Bush!!"  That guy rocks!&lt;p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/T/thelumbymon/1045346425_zyquizpunk.jpg" border="0" alt="I am punk music!!"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Rock on, dude! You are Punk music!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/thelumbymon/quizzes/What%20type%20of%20music%20are%20you%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;What type of music are you?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/O/orliwhore/1038125967_DesktopLaw.jpg" border="0" alt=""&gt;&lt;br&gt;Jude Law: you like them romantic and British with&lt;br&gt;beauiful green eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/orliwhore/quizzes/Which%20guy%20are%20you%20destined%20to%20have%20sex%20with%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;Which guy are you destined to have sex with?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/1034107908_CAndreaquizeyesblue.jpg" border="0" alt=""&gt;&lt;br&gt;Blue Eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/theandrea/quizzes/What%20Color%20Eyes%20Should%20You%20Have%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;What Color Eyes Should You Have?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91362748?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91362748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91362748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_23_archive.html#91362748' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91288240</id><published>2003-03-24T12:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-24T12:43:15.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't watch tv since Friday.  I think this war is terrible.  It hurts, really.  I mean, think of all the innocent people that is gonna die!  Anyways, just looking around me, it seems like I'm one of the only sensitive ones.  Why do I seem to be the only one depressed and shocked because of war?&lt;p&gt;I'm depressed, but I feel well today.  I think I'm pretty and I have a lot of energy.  I want to move a lot. Still, I am not productive.  Guess what, I'm home to do homework...  Yeah right!  Anyways, I worked my singing and my blogging, that's enough for now.  My headache is just okay for now, don't make it bigger.  I don't know why I have that fucking headache always.  My Relaxation teacher says it is because of stress.  Still, I am not very stressed these days, and I sleep well.  The Tiers is in two weeks, I can relax.  Anyways, I hope it is soon finished, I makes me crazy. I have been sick Saturday night.  You know when your headache is so big that you have nausea.  Anyways, my head hurts, but that's okay.  People are dying in Iraq.&lt;P&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/G/ghettokitty/1047299736_entrancing.jpg" border="0" alt="entrancing"&gt;&lt;br&gt;You have an entrancing kiss~ the kind that leaves&lt;br&gt;your partner bedazzled and maybe even feeling&lt;br&gt;he/she is dreaming.  Quite effective; the kiss&lt;br&gt;that never lessens and always blows your&lt;br&gt;partner away like the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/ghettokitty/quizzes/What%20kind%20of%20kiss%20are%20you%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;What kind of kiss are you?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;DjiPy's so lucky!! * LoL*&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/V/vinacross/1045376560_tuffLoving.gif" border="0" alt="Loving"&gt;&lt;br&gt;You're the loving smile,the one that is entirely&lt;br&gt;devoted to others,especially that one&lt;br&gt;person.You really can't get them out of your&lt;br&gt;head,but then,you don't really want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/vinacross/quizzes/What%20Kind%20of%20Smile%20are%20You%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;What Kind of Smile are You?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;P&gt;  &lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/V/vinacross/1034448042_rgirlhotel.jpg" border="0" alt="Raspberry Swirl"&gt;&lt;br&gt;-Raspberry Swirl- You're "Raspberry&lt;br&gt;Swirl" from the "From The Choirgirl&lt;br&gt;Hotel" album. You're full of odd talk and&lt;br&gt;metaphors about sex. You also bash men just a&lt;br&gt;little bit. "If you want inside her, well,&lt;br&gt;boy you better make her Rapberry swirl".&lt;br&gt;You're full of upbeat music and you're great to&lt;br&gt;dance to,and you certainly get lots of&lt;br&gt;attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/vinacross/quizzes/Which%20Tori%20Amos%20Song%20Are%20You%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;Which Tori Amos Song Are You?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;P&gt;  &lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/V/vinacross/1041995613_ensitiveGF.gif" border="0" alt="You're Sensitive and you'd like to stay that way.."&gt;&lt;br&gt;-Sensitive- You're Sensitive, and you'd like to&lt;br&gt;stay that way. Sorry,listened to a bit too much&lt;br&gt;Jewel there. You're sweet and very emotionally&lt;br&gt;charged. You definitely love the person you're&lt;br&gt;with, and always want to know how they're&lt;br&gt;feeling so you can make sure they're happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/vinacross/quizzes/What%20Kind%20of%20Girlfriend%20Are%20You%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;P&gt;Solo Acoustic..You're someone that doesn't need to&lt;br&gt;be with somebody else. you can hold your own,&lt;br&gt;and still be entertaining. Maybe you'll be as&lt;br&gt;good as Chris Carraba one day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size="-1"&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/MeowVampire/quizzes/%20What%20kind%20of%20%20band%20should%20you%20belong%20to%3F/"&gt; What kind of  band should you belong to?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91288240?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91288240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91288240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_23_archive.html#91288240' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91065060</id><published>2003-03-20T11:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-20T11:31:55.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Guess who isn't working right now! &lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quizilla.com/I/Impy/1034736667_ktopphoebe.jpg" border="0" alt="Phoebe Halliwell, flighty sister."&gt;&lt;br&gt;You're Phoebe Halliwell, controversial sister.&lt;br&gt;Your fans are fiercely loyal, but rapidly&lt;br&gt;running out.  Figure out what your deal is with&lt;br&gt;Cole and find the spunk that Paige seems to&lt;br&gt;have stolen right out from under your nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/Impy/quizzes/Which%20Charmed%20One%20Are%20You%3F/"&gt; &lt;font size="-1"&gt;Which Charmed One Are You?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;font size="-3"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://kelly.moranweb.com/quiz" target="new"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://kelly.moranweb.com/quiz/soul/images/passion.gif" border=0&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;I am truly passionate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://kelly.moranweb.com/quiz" target="new"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find your soul type&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://kelly.moranweb.com" target="new"&gt;kelly.moranweb.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91065060?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91065060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91065060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91065060' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91060211</id><published>2003-03-20T09:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-20T10:15:00.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>They started bombing Iraq yesterday night.  I think it is disgusting.  Imagine or many people will die!!  Have anybody thought of the children?? I heard that they don't have any shelter for the population 'cause US army usually bomb them.  This is scary.  People my age will die.  People younger that I will die too.  I hate this idea of dying young.  I read on a  blog that US population is angry against France.  There is a clique wich says: "Now, Iraq, Then France."  The guy that have tought of that is a fascist!  There is a French site that wants to send bretzel to the cowboy president, 'cause he nearly died during eating one in January 2002.  I guess I will stop arguing against war for now in my blog, but I will display this URL.  This is too funny.  Mean, but legal.  Is he killing people or not?  So here is the URL: &lt;a href="http://www.bretzelforbush.com"&gt;www.bretzelforbush.com&lt;/a&gt;.  I just tought it was kinda funny, and as mean as "Now Iraq then France".  In your teeth!&lt;p&gt;This is not hate.  This is kind of angriness.  The United States are a wonderful country, still, everyone makes mistake and I think this is one.  If you wanna kill that guy, kill him and nobody else.  People in Iraq don't diserve to die because of Hussein ruling their country.&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/passion_n_hope/join"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://us.i1.yimg.com/us.yimg.com/i/yg/img/ui/join.gif" border=0&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click to subscribe to passion_n_hope&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;p&gt;This my yahoo group.  This is for anyone that is doing theater or like theater very much.  Feel free to join.  Peace!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91060211?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91060211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91060211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91060211' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91011378</id><published>2003-03-19T15:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-19T15:30:35.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;BIG&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/BIG&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91011378?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91011378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91011378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91011378' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-91005888</id><published>2003-03-19T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-19T13:50:50.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Having a pause, so won't be here long.  War is dumb and my hair is disgusting.  Acting class is dull.  End of entry.  Thank you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-91005888?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91005888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/91005888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#91005888' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90926773</id><published>2003-03-18T10:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-18T10:45:01.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel wonderfully fine today.  I slept well.  I fell asleep at 9:30 p.m., after The Simpsons.  I woke up early this morning, in my man's arms.  He slept holding me.  Ain't that cute? I love him so much.&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;End of cuteness!&lt;/b&gt; Bush is a dork.  Okay, Hussein ain't better.  Let's go.  Let's war, everyone.  That is so fun!  Fuck, am I the only one seeing the shit it is doing?  This is the end of the UNO.  Bush is a dork.  The worst thing is that around here, nobody seems to undertand.  They announced that during the news, yesterday night.  DjiPy's family and I were eating in front of the t.v. like always (This is kinda ridiculous, but this is addictive.  I don't speak anymore at the table, I am watching atrocities!)  Anyways, a debate begin.  They say it's a good thing, and stuff.  even DjiPy said so.  Come on gang, war can't be a good thing.  Nobody seemed to understand my point, so I left the table.  I was angry, and troubled.  I'm scared of war, like I am scared of death.  War equals death.  In DjiPy's room, I started to cry, and then everybody was making fun of me because I am not normal.  Hussein is a bad guy.  Bush is God.  Hell yeah!  This is so dumb.  We are so badly informed.  War is never an obligation.  And this Bush guy is a belligerent.  Like his father.  Like the Gulf war.  But this time, Hussein is waiting for the US army.  We are gonna suffer, everyone.  I mean, for once, Mister Chretien did something well.  Canada won't take part of this war.  Of course, nobody wants it.  Students are closing schools for that all over the province of Quebec.  Thousands of people are walking in the big cities streets for peace.  The high school I went  to took a walk to the house of the federal deputy, for peace!  We want peace you fools!  &lt;BIG&gt;Peace!!!!!!&lt;/BIG&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Give peace a chance&lt;/i&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="2" width="240"bgcolor="#e7e4e4"&gt;&lt;tr&gt; &lt;td width="50%"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; Conscious self&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://similarminds.com/images/6.gif" border="0"&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;/table&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com"&gt;Take Free Enneagram Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90926773?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90926773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90926773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#90926773' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90874851</id><published>2003-03-17T15:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-17T16:04:21.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Took a test.  I'm too lazy to do something else...  By the way, I updated my web page.  I made a great frog page.  I love frogs!  You could go see it.  Just take that damn non working banner...&lt;P&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.allaboutfrogs.org/funstuff/frogtest.php3"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.allaboutfrogs.org/funstuff/frogtest/result13.jpg"  width=215 height=100 alt="I'm a Pixie Frog!" border="0"  &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;The African bullfrog, or Pixie frog as it is often called (because of it's latin name, not because it's as cute as a fairy!), is one of the largest frogs in South Africa. Usually, they hang out in open grassland, and if there are any to be found, they'll sit around in puddles. When startled, these frogs will blow up like balloons to scare away the intruder!  In the dry season, they will burrow into the ground. These guys eat lots and lots of really big bugs, fish, mice, lizards, and even other frogs.&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.allaboutfrogs.org/funstuff/frogtest.php3"&gt;What kind of Frog are &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90874851?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90874851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90874851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#90874851' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90867592</id><published>2003-03-17T13:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-17T13:37:56.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Is there a war, or not?  This is getting kinda complicated!&lt;P&gt;Once again, this damned banner doesn't want to appear.  I have visited almost every "HTML" about site and I haven't found how to make it works. &lt;BIG&gt;Help me&lt;/BIG&gt; please!&lt;P&gt;My man is at job, right now.  I'm looking forward he comes back.  He called me during his break, at 10 this morning.  This makes me feel fine.  You know when you feel you are really important for someone...  This is the best feeling I ever felt.  And he is so sweet.  He told me he will call me at his next break.  I miss him.  His job is in the metal industries.  I don't like it.  One of his friends did epilepsy and that is because of his job.  I don't want him to do the same.  I love him so.  He says sometimes that he knows he is going to die young.  This scares mea lot.  I am affraid of death, I guess, and everytime I am going to school or he is going to his job, I feel like I'm never gonna see him again.  I guess I am too dependant and I love him too much.  Still, I can't make my mind in the fact I am gonna lose him someday for sure.  I know he is the man of my life, the love of my life, I can't stand the idea of his death...  I shouldn't think about that now.  He is not dead.  I will see him tonight and cuddly and kiss him.  And will maybe be together tomorrow.  He asked to finish his day at 12 to buy his new glasses (and to be with me...)  I love him so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90867592?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90867592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90867592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#90867592' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90770482</id><published>2003-03-15T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-15T14:17:57.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What do I have to do if I want that damn banner to work?  It is so cute, why can't everybody see it? !@#@#$$%?&amp;*&lt;P&gt; I don't really know what to say.  I now have brown hair with orange in it.  It is kinda cool, still ordinary.  I'm looking forward to be blonde again.  I think I look sick with blonde hair, but I have to.  My role in the school play have to be blonde.  Plus, it is my natural color.  I'm kinda tired of looking fake.  Sure, i'm pretty (I guess) with black hair, and I look pretty with my new hair too...  I have pretty pink cheeks right now.  I look healty.  Anyways... &lt;P&gt;By the way, I'm in the TIERS team.  The TIERS is a big improv tournament.  I am very happy.  This is the proof I am now considered as a good player.  That's nice for the ego.  Mireille was deceived.  I don't care.  She thinks she is the greatest.  Well, she is even faking her toughts about her talent.  She knows she is not that good.  She is not a bad player, tought.  Still, she is not veru good.  That's kinda mean but I was hoping she wouldn't be in the team.  She is always speaking about herself being cool, having one night stand (which I never had and I'm glad to say that), being Jean-Marc's and Jean-Pierre's (the two acting teachers) favourite student, being talented...  And me being a poor girl, the girl next door, with a poor casting and that will never be able to do anythin in her life because of that casting and because i am not that talented...  Not as much as her...  Fuck you!  I had the big role in the school play, I won the "King of the Ring" event, I won a first star and couples of 3rd stars, and I am in the TIERS tournament, so go to hell with your...  She makes me so angry.  You know, I like that girl, but she has no confidence.  When we are in competition (She is in competition with everyone, tought), I am less that shit.  That is quite hard to endure.  I can't stand her, these days...&lt;P&gt;Another manifestation today agains the war.  I forgot to wear my white ribbon.  Some guy were giving them at school.  &lt;BIG&gt;&lt;b&gt;War is dumb!  Peace!  Bush is the American Psyco&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/BIG&gt;. I'm proud to say my ancesters came from France when I see this is one of the only bright countries saying no to war.  We can't fight war by war!  Do anybody of these anti-islamic fools know that Ben Laden trained by the US army during the other war against Saddam Hussein?  You made a monster, in your face!  He sure made terrible things and he should die in terrible sufferances, but stop killing kids that haven't done anything to your country.  They are islamic, is that a crime.  They are not all terrorists, damn it! &lt;P&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tests&lt;/b&gt; Am I addicted or what?  I am not finished with this site, still my man is waiting for me and I guess he's a little bored playing to Pokemon Snap with my 13 years old bro.  This is kinda funny.  Anyways.  See ya!  I don't go to school Monday and Tuesday, I'll update my blog sometimes...  Ciao!&lt;P&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://home.nyu.edu/~lap250/juliamouth.gif"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net/celebrityfeature.shtml"&gt;what celebrity feature are you?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net"&gt; mewing.net&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://mewing.net/smellfine.gif"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net/smellquiz.shtml"&gt;do YOU smell?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net"&gt;mewing.net. a wide field of wild daisies.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://home.nyu.edu/~lap250/madondrag.gif"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net/dragtest.shtml"&gt;find YOUR drag persona&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and go to mewing.net. where all the men wear skirts.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://home.nyu.edu/~lap250/picsix.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because i thought this picture was pretty, laura of &lt;a href="http://mewing.net"&gt;mewing.net&lt;/a&gt; told me this: "you are an effervescent, happy person, but your friends and coworkers have noticed with dismay that you tend to bark like a dog and lick your knee, elbow, or wrist when left to your own devices. at the age of seven, you took a road trip with your family, and discovered that your favorite state is kentucky. at the age of twelve, you fell in love with the boy {or girl} next door, but were rejected in favor of your little sister. your career path involves animals and/or fashion design, but you will die alone and miserable at the age of 82."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mewing.net/image.shtml"&gt;whatever will laura tell you??&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90770482?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90770482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90770482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90770482' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90521702</id><published>2003-03-11T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-11T09:13:10.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey!  Just passing by to say hello, fans!  *LoL* &lt;P&gt;I gotta go soon.  I have an acting class today.  Then, I'm gonna change my look.  This is my new hair day.  Will I be blonde?  Will I be brown?  Que sera sera! *LoL*  I guess I am feeling good today, if I think it is pretty funny...  Anyways.&lt;P&gt;I just discovered I'm a love addict. What a suprise!!!  (By the way, I was sarcastic...)  I know I love too much, but I love to love.  DjiPy is the man of my life and I know it. &lt;P&gt;!"//$%??&amp;&amp;*  I'm gonna be late.  Damn internet.  I guess I'm a blogger addict too.  Anyway, this is the end of this short and sweet issue.  Take Care everyone!  *kisses*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90521702?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90521702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90521702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90521702' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90400568</id><published>2003-03-09T09:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-09T09:50:37.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm really not a HTML girl.... &lt;P&gt;I don't any ideas what the hell to say.  I went to a wonderful show yesterday.  It is called "L'homme de la Mancha" wich is French for "Man of the Mancha", a broadway show.  That was cool.  And I miss DjiPy a lot!  He didn't wanted to go with me.  He hates theatre.  That is sad.  He gonna be desperate when I'll be an actress...  He He! &lt;P&gt;Speaking of actress things, I'm supposed to kiss Rolland-Hugues in our play...  Ierk.  He's not cute at all, but that not the point.  DjiPy doesn't agree with that, like he doesn't agree my blonde hair for the same play.  I am sad he doesn't understand how important acting is to me and how it is important to be good in this play.  I am tired of being the "poor little girl with no confidence that wanna be an actress but too shy to prove what she's able to do".  I am talented, I am willing, I wanna prove it.&lt;P&gt;&lt;b&gt;Tests&lt;/b&gt;... again!&lt;P&gt;My &lt;a href="http://bloginality.love-productions.com"&gt;Bloginality&lt;/a&gt; is &lt;a href="http://bloginality.love-productions.com/infp.php"&gt;INFP&lt;/a&gt;!!!!&lt;P&gt; &lt;img src="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/dumb/teehee.gif" title="Like, I'm so cool!" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/dumb/"&gt;How dumb are &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;P&gt;  &lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/damned/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/damned/valhalla.jpg" title="Valhalla" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/damned/"&gt;Are &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; damned?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;Brought to you by &lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/"&gt;Rum and Monkey&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/small&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will die a warrior and be spirited away by warbling wenches to the Hall of the Slain. Meat and mead for ever more, well until Ragnarok, anyway, when you will do battle with giants, giantesses, dwarfs, elves and Nidhug, a dragon who likes to nibble trees. Odin is great!&lt;P&gt; &lt;img src="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/drunk/emotional.jpg" width="300" height="180" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rumandmonkey.com/widgets/tests/drunk/"&gt;What Kind of Drunk Are &lt;i&gt;You&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90400568?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90400568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90400568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_09_archive.html#90400568' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90312501</id><published>2003-03-07T13:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-07T13:05:27.153-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>AAAAAAAAAAARGH!  Why can't my HTML stuff work?  Please, somebody, anybody, help me!  I have a great little banner...  Still nobody can't see it!  Nothing goes well today!  Fighting with my man, the worst hair ever, a big match tonight and no voice, a Critic class...  Damn it.  At least I bought myself clothes....  Anyways, talk to you later, have a class beginning in minutes.  Bye bye for now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90312501?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90312501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90312501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90312501' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90188010</id><published>2003-03-05T14:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-05T14:06:57.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;La la la, in winter wonderland! &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;P&gt;Ok, won't be here very long...  I have a long trip to Beauharnois to do and it looks like X-mas aroubd here.  This ain't a joke.  There is about one meter of snow outside the house.  Anyways, I just wanted to say hi.  Can't say why.  Guess I'm addicted to my weblog.  Anyways.  I put out my brand new banner.  You can now visit my site.  Admit it is beautiful.  My friend &lt;b&gt;Sam&lt;/b&gt; made it.  Thanx a lot.  I don't know when will be the next entry.  Maybe tonight if my father-in-law is able to install internet.  You should have seen that yesterday.  It was quite funny.  Still, I am just a girl so I can't help with computers. !@#$%?&amp;* Anyways, Take care till my next update!  Bye!  *mouah* *mouah*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90188010?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90188010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90188010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90188010' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90179486</id><published>2003-03-05T10:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-05T11:21:24.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey hey!  Nothing really to say.  Fuck war!  The only good thing about it is that I do not have school today because of it...  Manifestations in Montreal... All my friends are going there.  I'm not.  It is not a "I don't care" thing.  It is about comfort.  It is snowing around here.  I mean really snowing.  Streets are full of ice.  I don't feel like killing myself in my car today.  Plus, I have a big theory work in Theatre for Friday.  I wrote two lines only and I don't have time to work on it tomorrow: practices of improv and project.  Anyways, I'll do my own little manifestation on my blog:  No war!  No war!  No war!&lt;P&gt;By the way, because I am lazy, I am not doing homwork right now but tests.  I found a wonderful blog you should all visit: &lt;a href="http://existentialmoo.com/quizblog/"&gt;Quiz'me&lt;/a&gt;.  Have fun!!&lt;P&gt;  &lt;table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="background-color: #fff; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica; font-size: 10px"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;You are &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: #090"&gt;16%&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; geek&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.thudfactor.com/images/geekquiz/girl_0x25.jpg" height="170" width="120"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;OK, so maybe you ain't a geek. You do, at least, show a bit of interest in the world around you. Either that, or you have enough of a sense of humor to pick some of the sillier answers on the test. Regardless, you're probably a pretty nifty, well-rounded person who gets along fine with people and can chat with just about anyone without fear of looking stupid or foolish or overly concerned with minutiae. God, I hate you.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thudfactor.com/geekquiz.php"&gt;Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;center&gt; &lt;a href="http://spacefem.com/annoying/index.shtml"&gt; &lt;img src="http://quizilla.com/user_images/S/spacefem/1041784237_peta.gif" border=0&gt; &lt;/a&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;P&gt;  &lt;center&gt; &lt;a href="http://spacefem.com/militantfeminist/index.shtml"&gt;&lt;img src="http://spacefem.com/militantfeminist/03.jpg" border=0&gt;&lt;/center&gt;  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;center&gt; &lt;br /&gt; I'm getting there.  I don't suck, but I've got a ways to go.&lt;br&gt; &lt;/center&gt;  &lt;P&gt; &lt;center&gt; &lt;a href="http://spacefem.com/uselessquiz/index.shtml"&gt; &lt;img src="http://quizilla.com/user_images/S/spacefem/1041735192_useless05.gif" border=0&gt; &lt;/a&gt; &lt;/center&gt;&lt;P&gt;  &lt;center&gt; &lt;a href="http://spacefem.com/evil/index.shtml"&gt; &lt;img src="http://quizilla.com/user_images/S/spacefem/1041783702_evil5.gif" border=0&gt; &lt;/a&gt; &lt;/center&gt; &lt;P&gt;  &lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://brakpage.milkbag.net/quiz/peanuts.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://brakpage.milkbag.net/quiz/linus.gif" alt="I am linus" border="0"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size=2&gt;&lt;b&gt;Which Peanuts Character Are You Quiz&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;P&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/teo592/quiz/dragon.html" target="new"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3&gt;A WHITE Dragon Lies Beneath!&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/teo592/quiz/dragon.html" target="new"&gt;Inner Dragon online quiz&lt;/a&gt; and found out I am a White Dragon on the inside. If there ever was an apparition of balance, power and reclusive intelligence, my Inner Dragon is it. Whites are a fairly common dragon and are considered one of two harmonious dragons. My antithesis is the evil Black Dragon.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Inner Dragon likes to think things out, plot against enemies, and look down upon the world from the highest mountain peaks. My favorable attributes are the Day, the Sun, truth, a positive attitude, and helpful magic. Humans only need fear me when they stray into my domain without proper tribute. Of course, that tribute would probably be a cake the size of a Volkswagen, but hey, if they wanted to move through my turf they should have brought it, right? If someone ever really wanted a fight I'd be an impressive opponent, considering I pack a breath weapon combination of Fire and Lightning. Even the nicest dragons can do some serious damage.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90179486?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90179486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90179486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90179486' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-90121398</id><published>2003-03-04T12:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-04T13:53:03.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You know what?  Here, things are unfair.  *Little materialistic story*  Since my first high school years, I have been asking my mom to have a tv in my bedroom.  She always said no.  Now, these times are over.  I'm far from high school, and far from my bedroom too.  I'm living at my boyfriend's house.  My baby brother, Yannick, is 13 (and arrogant).  He asked my mom to have a tv.  Guess who have now a tv in his room...  Anyways, I'll be angry later.&lt;P&gt;Yesterday, I had a fight with DjiPy.  We are in trouble since a while.  I'm really busy.  I like it that way.  Still, we don't see each other much, even if we live together.  Yesterday, it was about his bro's birthday party, on March 29th.  I can't be there, I'm at the opera.  It was expensive, I won't just trow the ticket away!  Plus, DjiPy's family always change dates.  I already said I was a busy girl.  I can cancel some things, but there are some I can't cancel or don't want to cancel.  Anyways...I'll try to apend more time with him.  I don't want to lose him, but I'd like him to understand that's the way I am.&lt;P&gt;Hey, check it out, I discovered a wonderful site that is called &lt;a href="http://www.escapinghades.com/"&gt;Escaping Hades&lt;/a&gt;.  It is for sexual abuse survivor.  I don't like to talk much about that, because I fear to cry, but if you feel concern...  Anyways..&lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wiredreflection.com/tests/magic.html" target="new"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.wiredreflection.com/tests/witch.jpg" border=0 frameborder=0 alt="You are a Witch!"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the &lt;a href="http://www.wiredreflection.com/tests/magic.html" target="new"&gt; "How Do You Use Magic?" &lt;/a&gt; test!  Written by &lt;a href="http://www.wiredreflection.com"&gt;Brimo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-90121398?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90121398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/90121398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_03_02_archive.html#90121398' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89963352</id><published>2003-03-01T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-01T14:15:46.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I realized something.  Why do everybody is talinkg nasty about each other.  All of my friends are speaking about all of my friends in a bad bad way.  I am supposed to be confident after that.  Yeah, I am a nice girl.  That's what everybody tell me.  Maybe I am too nice.  I am tired of all this.  I mean, I should have told Mireille what I have to tell her since a very long time.  Still, I can't.  She would be sad.  Why can't I realize it makes me sad and that is maybe more important than trying not to hurt some girl who hurts me more.  And I love my friends, but I guess I'll soon get paranoid because of all this.  Why can't guys and girls I know be true to each other.  When I tell somebody they are beautiful, I mean it.  When I say they have been good, I mean it.  I don't fake, or try not to fake.  Why can't anybody do that or try to?&lt;P&gt; Internet is long to load today.  Have a long homework to do and I can't load the page I really need.  That makes me a little angry.  And my man is waiting for me, playing Pokemon Stadium...  Aaaaaaaaaargh!  I hate technology sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89963352?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89963352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89963352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89963352' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89726127</id><published>2003-02-25T14:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-25T14:06:16.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fuck off, I can't get rid of her.  I won't say her name, but she have kind of a boyfriend (see yesterday's entry).  She is not only mean.  She is not only selfish and self centered.  She is so... !"//$%%?&amp;&amp;  First, I have homework to do and here she is telling me she will wait because she doesn't want to take the bus.  Then she does all the work by herself.  It gets on my nerves.  She gives herself big roles, cut our part.  I was happy today.  Still now...&lt;P&gt;Oops!  Here she comes.  My heart nearly stopped.  Anyways.  Have to go.  Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89726127?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89726127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89726127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89726127' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89715540</id><published>2003-02-25T10:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-25T10:40:26.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Damn it, it is great to be a beauty.  My car didn't have windscreen washer so, of course, I decided to buy some, this morning.  I stopped at a garage and bought a bottle of it.  Then, I tried to open my car's cap, still I was unable.  Mireille had it.  That was funny.  Then the garage man arrived with a large smile and he blinked to us saying: "I'll help you, young girls".  He did everything.  That is kinda funny.  I could think it is kind of sexism, it would be my kind of reflections after an episode like this, still, I just think it is funny.  If we were guys, he would have never helped us.  And if we were ugly chicks, he would have neigther.  Anyways...  Now I can see where I going with my car!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89715540?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89715540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89715540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89715540' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89657480</id><published>2003-02-24T13:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-01T14:17:08.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey!  Did you know "Hot Stuff" are really disgusting?  That's what I'm eating right now...  And I don't know why I'm eating that.  I don't like it.&lt;P&gt;So what's up?  I have a new look.  That's a kinda superficial subject, but I think I am very pretty today.  Even DjiPy, wich doesn't like anything that is not conventionnal, told me I was pretty this morning.  Well, maybe that is because he was so tired that he did not know what he means.  He went to the big WWE show yesterday and came back at 1:00 am with Dede, his younger brother.  I missed him very much.  I have piggy tails, wich is funny cause my hair is much too short to fit in the tails.  That's why I have kind of a scarf in my hair.  You can see my forehead.  I used to have lots of hair in front of it.  I wear nicklaces I bought with I was at high school, a very sexy red polo, black pants with a scarf as a belt...  Justin and Valerie told me I was a "super chick"  his morning.&lt;P&gt;  Speaking about look, there's only two weeks left before the great change.  I'm gonna dye my hair.  They are now black, but I'd like to recover my natural color, wich is blond.  I don't know what color I'm gonna be then.  I'd like to have red hair.  I think I would be pretty, but I would prefer to be blonde again.&lt;P&gt;I should go.  My Integration Project takes very much time of my life.  I have to find videos in wich there is kind of sex.  For exemple, Britney Spears with a G-string *on* her jeans.  I have to find quotes that speaks about sex and practice my dance.  Oh!  There's no sex in that dance, don't worry.  It is just that I have to dance as popstar for an intro to our show.  This is tougher than it looks.  That's why I can say (believe it or not) that Britney Spears is somewhat talented...  BUT NOT ABOUT MUSIC!!!!!  Hey, I just realized that anybody that doesn't know me a little bit who read this gonna think I'm some sex bitch.  He!  He!  That could be funny...  Just to tell you, I am the shiest girl on Earth, but I am brave enough to dress very sexy and show my underwear on stage, but not for fun, for art!  I'm gonna stop here, I think I'm looking weirder than before my explanations...  He!  He! &lt;P&gt;Life is weird.  And I am not only speaking about Mireille having kind of a boyfriend (mean, mean, mean).  And I'm a bitch today: I feel happy!!&lt;P&gt;&lt;font face="tahoma" size="4"&gt;I am &lt;a href="http://www.imfanatic.com/simpsons/simpson_quiz.html"&gt;Krusty the Clown&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;br&gt;Which &lt;a href="http://www.imfanatic.com/simpsons/simpson_quiz.html"&gt;Simpsons Character&lt;/a&gt; are YOU? &lt;P&gt; &lt;font face="verdana" size="2"&gt;Speaking about clown, I heard a joke this morning wich is so funny I have to write it down before I forget.  Still, I have to traduce it in my head, so it might be weird.  Anyways...  They say stars are writing to Washington to tell president Bush (the finest...  he! he!) that a war is a bad idea.  Celine Dion might write in a couple days, the time her husband help her understand Persian Gulf isn't a 18 holes.  (I like mean jokes...)&lt;P&gt; &lt;TABLE BORDER=0&gt;&lt;TR&gt;&lt;TD&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;A HREF="http://quiz.ravenblack.net/flavour.pl"&gt;&lt;IMG BORDER=0 ALIGN="LEFT" WIDTH=100 HEIGHT=100 SRC="http://quiz.ravenblack.net/flavour/10.png" ALT="What Flavour Are You? I taste like Beef." /&gt;&lt;/A&gt;I taste like &lt;B&gt;Beef&lt;/B&gt;.&lt;BR /&gt;&lt;BR /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I taste like beef. I'm probably made of beef. You are what you eat, they say, and if the title didn't mean something else, I would be a beefeater. I think red meat is good for you. Puts hair on your chest. &lt;A HREF="http://quiz.ravenblack.net/flavour.pl"&gt;What Flavour Are You?&lt;/A&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/TD&gt;&lt;/TR&gt;&lt;/TABLE&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89657480?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89657480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89657480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_23_archive.html#89657480' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89571758</id><published>2003-02-22T18:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-22T18:51:05.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yeah, looks like it works...  That's fine. &lt;P&gt;I won't write much, my boyfriend is kinda angry at me because we don't see each other during the week and now that it is the week-end, I am doing homework all day long.  I was only here to see if the blog worked (and believe it or not, it does work!) and to add the code for my new acquisition.  I'm now a proud member of &lt;a href="http://blogsnob.idya.net "&gt;BlogSnob&lt;/a&gt;.  I'll write more later.  Anyways, there's nothing interesting going on, and I am really angry against The Montreal's Canadiens.  My fave doesn't play tonight and they'll loose for sure because their trios tonight are...  well.... I've seen better trios in my life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89571758?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89571758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89571758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89571758' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89504918</id><published>2003-02-21T11:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-21T11:58:42.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What the hell???  Why does the blog doesn't appear anywhere??  I hate technology!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89504918?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89504918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89504918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89504918' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89382767</id><published>2003-02-19T14:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T14:51:28.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Damn it!  I hate HTML.  Can't make my changes.  And most of all, I have a head ache. &lt;P&gt;  Please, superman, help me!  Can someone teach me how to work my blog template?  I am panicking!! I can't see my page.  Computers hate me! Aaaaaargh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89382767?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89382767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89382767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89382767' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89380293</id><published>2003-02-19T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-19T14:02:18.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I shouldn't be here right now.  I am so tired.  I you would see my agenda...  It is terrible. &lt;P&gt;I woke up beside of an angry boyfriend.  We didn't really see each ther since the end of the holidays.  With improv, theatre, school, plays, etc...  I'm always too busy!  I live with him, but...  The fact is we do need each other, but I deal better than him with separation.  Maybe that's because I'm the busy one!  We spoke a little, then he went to work.  I took a shower and arrived late at Mireille house.  I endured her sayings all traval long.  I have some trouble with her since a while.  It is getting ridiculous.  She really thinks she is better than everyone and I am shit.  DjiPy and Julie P. say I should punch her in the face.  I wish I was able to.  Then, school.  Nothing that much interesting.  I am too tired to be happy to go to school, even thought I'm a school lover!  Then, I bought (yeah, I found a dollar in my purse, a miracle) a salad to eat during the lunch break.  Then we had a reunion about our project.  Nothing new, only boring stuff.  Julie P. wasn't at the reunion so I won't have the 20 bucks she's supposed to give me.  I need them so much! Then I'll a a theatre practice.  I don't know my text and I don't really care.  Then I'll jump in my car, with lots of people and drive to the play we're gonna see tonight, wich is said very boring.  And tomorrow?  School from 8 am to 6 pm.  Then I jump in my car, go take DjiPy, and go to the great Valentine's match.  I have been chosen (a little light in the dark).  I won't have time to eat.  And I have to read a Victor's Hugo text for Friday and I have lots of Grammar homework.  I hate English classes.&lt;P&gt;That wouldn't be that bad if there wasn't another problem.  This is not about DjiPy, even tought the guy who said that the good thing about separation  is that you can't argue is wrong.  I need money.  It is terrible.  Gas is costy and my car likes to drink a lot!  Only this week, since monday, I spent 40 dollars of gas.  Aaaaaaagh!  And this is not the only thing.  Tonight's play is 20 bucks.  Jean-Marc have to give me 5 dollar, Myl�ne too.  Julie P. have to give me 20 dollars because of Cegeps en Spectacle.  I have to pay for the bus tonight, my supper too.  And I don't have time to get a job.  It really bugs me.  I cried about it this morning.  I know all college students have to live that situation; we did a collect for Maude last week because she had 2 dollars left for the week and couldn't buy a coffee.  I am not used to that.  And I hate that situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89380293?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89380293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89380293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89380293' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89319365</id><published>2003-02-18T13:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-18T15:57:47.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am discouraging...  I have panicked for nothing...  Once again.  Oli and Julie are a couple, and still my friends.  This is not that bad.  After the worst match of my carreer, I spoke to Olivier during around an hour.  I learn lots of things.  Everything is fine, so. &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worry about Mim.  Yesterday, she was sick.  Head ache.  After the matches, she fell, ya know, with her eyes upside down.  That was scary.  We all panicked.  I haven't stayed long beside of her, and I am a little sad of it, because a second trouble arrived at the same time.  Mireille 2's dad had an accident.  Her mother called her on her cell, still we had no news because she was crying too much.  I went with Mireille.  Mim had enough people around her, I guess.  I haven't seen anyone of these girls today.  I guess Mim is at home cause she wasn't in our acting class this morning.  S�bastien told me he had seen Mireille 2 this morning and her father is well.  I hope so.&lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I soon have to go.  Sewing lesson.  Really.  See ya!!&lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;&lt;IMG SRC="http://www.datazap.net/free/masenko/quiz/drink/drink_beer.gif" BORDER=0 WIDTH=250 HEIGHT=100 ALT="What Drink Are You?"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;A HREF="http://powersugoi.net/quiz/drink.html" TARGET="_top"&gt;What Drink Are You?&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;IMG SRC="http://www.datazap.net/free/masenko/quiz/ssm/ssm_telly.gif" BORDER=0 WIDTH=200 HEIGHT=100 ALT="Which Sesame Street Muppet Are You?"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;A HREF="http://powersugoi.net/quiz" TARGET="_top"&gt;Which Sesame Street Muppet Are You?&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/P&gt; &lt;IMG SRC="http://www.datazap.net/free/masenko/quiz/toe/toe_two.gif" BORDER=0 WIDTH=200 HEIGHT=120 ALT="Which toe are you? o_O~?"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;A HREF="http://powersugoi.net/quiz" TARGET="_top"&gt;Which toe are you? o_O~?&lt;/A&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89319365?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89319365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89319365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89319365' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5060285.post-89255299</id><published>2003-02-17T14:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-02-17T14:39:50.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, well, well...  I was tired of loading &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/hopecharming"&gt;my Geocities page &lt;/a&gt;on the school's computers to write my journal, when I feel like throwing up what I have to say, and the blog I tried on Diaryland didn't enjoy me.  It was ugly.  So, I'm trying this one.  I hope it is gonna be fine!  Well, let's go.  We're Monday and I don't have any class this after noon.  I should read my book for Thursday French class but I am not very motivated, if you see waht I mean...  I think it is much too boring and I already feels a little frustrated.  Julie P.  thought is was funny, cause I didn't spoke of the reunion this morning.  She says being quiet gives me an angry look.  Maybe, but I ain't worst than the other girl of the group yelling at each other cause nobody likes the project.  I knew this project would be a fiasco! &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a little frustrated, and this is a little about Valentine's Day.  No trouble with my man.  He has been terribly sweet.  I know he's right for me.  Still, there was another love story...  I have two best friends.  A girl and a guy.  The guy loves the girl, who likes the boy.  Can I make it anymore obvious?  Olivier, the guy, decided to ask Julie B., the girl, what were her feelings on Valentine's Day.  He made a scenario, everything was cute, but he is so shy and everything.  He nearly screwed it up.  So like superheroes, DjiPy and I tried to help.  We gave him  advices.  I was very nervous because I know what kind of lover is Olivier and I don't want my best friend to make a terrible thing because his girl doesn't want him.  Ya know.  Looks like it works.  I phoned at Olivier's house yesterday and his mother told me he was at Julie's house.  Good thing.  So we called later.  He didn't even want to talk to us.  Didn't have the time.  Was with Julie.  Will know everything as the same time everybody will learn about them.  Fuck you!  We helped you out!  I am your best friend!  Is that shit?  I aggry with the fact you're with your girl and want to be with her, but you can tell me if everything went well.  I don't you to tell me everything that happend, damn it!  You called me during I was cuddlying with DjiPy to know what damn colour of rose you should buy.  I didn't say anything, but now, I am angry!  Really!  Best friends are there when you are in troubles, but when you finally found love, fuck friendship!  Thanx a lot, Olivier.  I know what to think.  And thanx Julie.  After 15 years of friendship, I don't understand you being so unconfident with me.  Am I frustrated?  No.  I am angry! &lt;P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now I know helping out someone ain't a good thing.  That's okay, I'll just live my life with my man, and that's all.  No problem!  He has confident in me and knows me well, better than you do. &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I am really frustrated about it.  I have an improv match tonight, I fear it to be the worst I played ever.  Playing with anger isn't a good thing for me.   &lt;P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't see DjiPy really for one week, again.  That frustrates me too.  Last week, it was about Cegep en Spectacle, the big contest.  This week it is different.  Tonight, there is a match.  I play, and he is the zebra.  Tomorrow, I have a theatre practice.  The show is in 8 weeks only.  I don't know my text and the director has trouble with all the actresses.  Wednesday, I go to the theatre for my Critic class.  I am certain this play is gonna be boring!  Thursday, there is a special match with a team from Montreal.  I don't know if I'm part of the team (I'd like to), but my boyfriend is the zebra at this match too.  So we are toghether Friday night, after school and his job.  Still, we won't be together Sunday too, because I have an acting in front of a camera class, and he is going to the big wrestling show at Montreal with D�d�, his brother.  And, anyways, we both promised each other we wouldn't touch each other for one week.  Aaaaah!  That is gonna be hard!  He is so damn sexy!  I have to, because of the medication I take, but it is tough! &lt;P&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Oh!  I have to say, I won't traduce my blog.  It is gonna be English only.  It takes much too long.  Thanx for understanding!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5060285-89255299?l=cleonice.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89255299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5060285/posts/default/89255299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cleonice.blogspot.com/2003_02_16_archive.html#89255299' title=''/><author><name>Hope</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06723526003169933263</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></entry></feed>
