<?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-2036278030592937508</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:42:48.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my family rules</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-786166313107304788</id><published>2009-04-21T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T08:04:45.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk</title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't updated in so long, but here's a nice story.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were having a family dinner at my house but I wasn't going to be there until 6:15, when I was done work. So when I walked in, everyone cheered and yelled my name. It was obvious most of my family members were completely drunk. Here's some highlights of the evening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-My uncle was laughing so hard that he drooled/spit on the kitchen counter. My aunt stood next to him laughing un-controllably and pointing at him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Somehow we started talking about condoms and jokingly i was like "CONDOMS SUCK!" and my uncle cheers'd me for saying that. He was basically cheersing me for EVERYTHING I said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-My mom was getting dessert and went to steal my aunts chair. My aunt pulled the chair quickly, just as my mom was sitting down. She landed on the floor, the dessert going EVERYWHERE. Everyone was laughing so hard. My uncle even got up and took a picture of my mom with his black berry. Later on my aunt found pie in her purse.&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-I was eating my hamburger and started choking. My uncle, instead of helping me, said "Chew jessica, it's not a boy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-My uncle rocked out on my brothers drum set, throwing the drum sticks in the air and trying to catch them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Same uncle walked around for 10 minutes trying to find his coat, not even sure if he brought his coat. It was on the ground, right in front of him. He also searched our house for his empty case of ginger ale. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-786166313107304788?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/786166313107304788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/04/drunk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/786166313107304788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/786166313107304788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/04/drunk.html' title='Drunk'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-7547931711151077617</id><published>2009-02-22T21:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:13:14.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boobs</title><content type='html'>My aunt and uncle came over to see the new house tonight. I was giving my aunt a hug goodbye and she said "Titty bump". Awkward. Then my dad proceeded to tell us that we had the biggest boobs in the family. "Biggest pairs", as he put it. My family is really awkward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-7547931711151077617?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/7547931711151077617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/02/boobs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/7547931711151077617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/7547931711151077617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/02/boobs.html' title='Boobs'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-6474562333150380222</id><published>2009-02-22T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T21:12:13.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh</title><content type='html'>Basically, this blog has failed. I'm going to continue writing in it, but not every day. I guess after I had a story, I'll tell it here. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-6474562333150380222?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/6474562333150380222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/02/ugh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/6474562333150380222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/6474562333150380222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/02/ugh.html' title='Ugh'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-2470903985686383405</id><published>2009-01-31T18:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T18:59:48.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hangover</title><content type='html'>This isn't really a story. It's more of just something my dad does all the time. If i mention that I have a headache or i'm not feeling so hot, he'll ask if I'm hungover. If I answer yes, then he'll yell really loud, just to piss me off and make things worse. He'll do this to my friends as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-2470903985686383405?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/2470903985686383405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/hangover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/2470903985686383405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/2470903985686383405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/hangover.html' title='Hangover'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-5782922286399584426</id><published>2009-01-29T11:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T11:34:41.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Special Gameboy</title><content type='html'>This happened ages ago, on our way home from a family reunion. My mom, brother and i , were riding with my uncle, aunt and two cousins, Kyle and Brittany. It was extremely hot in the truck and my brother decided to put the window down a crack. My mom told him to put it back up, with this , he put it down some more. My mom threatened him and told him to put it back up. He then put it down some more. Finally my mom told him, if he put it down anymore, he would blow right out the window. He finally put the window back up. After a while, he tried to put it down but it wouldn't work. My uncle noticed he was trying and was like "What the hell john! ! you broke my window!!!" My brother was scared and started telling him how sorry he was and he didn't mean to. My uncle had just locked the window and tricked my brother. On the same ride home, my brother had declared that his game boy was special. Ten minutes later, he dropped it and told us "my game boy isn't special anymore :(". &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-5782922286399584426?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/5782922286399584426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/special-gameboy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/5782922286399584426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/5782922286399584426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/special-gameboy.html' title='Special Gameboy'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-427783263874165504</id><published>2009-01-27T08:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T08:13:30.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Relay for Life</title><content type='html'>This story is dedicated to Ben.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, this takes places about, oh 2 years or so ago. It was mid July and I was dating Benjamin. My parents had invited him to join us for Relay for life, which he promptly did so and wore one of my t-shirts from the year before hand (Still have the family picture of us all). Anyways, We were at Relay for Life and it was getting fairly late and chilly out. I believe we had just finished eating Pizza. I was wrapped in a blanket AND had a sweater on. I asked Ben if he was cold and he told me no. Only minute later, He asked if he could have my sweater because he had gotten cold. My uncle, who had his back to us and was completely wrapped up in a sleeping bag, randomly said "Fucking wuss.." and then that was it. Ben and I laughed so hard at this because it was completely out of no where. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Note: I posted to stories today because I probably won't get a chance to update tomorrow, since i'm moving. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-427783263874165504?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/427783263874165504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/relay-for-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/427783263874165504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/427783263874165504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/relay-for-life.html' title='Relay for Life'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-6070450425320634213</id><published>2009-01-27T08:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T08:08:13.025-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Titty Bar</title><content type='html'>This is another Kyle story. We were on our way back from a punk show. It was Devin, Kyle, Leanne, Daniel and myself. Kyle, Daniel and I were seated in the back. Kyle was completely wasted and wouldn't stop babbling. Here's how one of the conversations went:&lt;div&gt;"Deeeeviiiiiiin, can we go to a titty bar?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"No kyle.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Titty bar! Titty bar! Titty bar!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"No!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Devin, turn left, left...left...LEFT! Ok, so you missed that titty bar, but don't worry... there's another one on the left coming up."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"....."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Devin, it has come to my attention that you have passed the Titty bar, yet again."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We're not going..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"FINE!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And with this, Kyle went on about other things. Swearing his head off about different things and just ranting. Then he decided he was hungry and we made a pit stop at Wendy's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Jessica, can you buy me a hamburbur?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"A what?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hamburbur..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hamburger?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"HAM-BUR-BUR!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"uh ok."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I then purchased Kyle a "Hamburbur", which to this day, he still says. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-6070450425320634213?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/6070450425320634213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/titty-bar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/6070450425320634213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/6070450425320634213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/titty-bar.html' title='Titty Bar'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-4522880946554725785</id><published>2009-01-26T09:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T10:02:09.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hooker</title><content type='html'>If anyone has ever been in the car with my dad while driving through London, they'll know this story very well. Basically, anytime i've ever gone anywhere in london with my dad, he's been able to point out any hooker. Now, I know what you're thinking., so stop. He works at the London Police station, as a dispatcher (aka answers 911 calls). So he just knows what they look like, etc. Anyways, it usually goes some what like this:&lt;div&gt;"Hooker, hooker , hooker, EW! not a hooker , just really ugly.... hooker, hooker, drug dealer..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;etc. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's honestly hilarious. There was a time recently when he picked me up from a friends house in London and told me that there was a hooker out when he came to pick me and now she was gone. So either she was really desperate for cash or someone was really desperate for sex , in the words of my dad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-4522880946554725785?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/4522880946554725785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/hooker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/4522880946554725785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/4522880946554725785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/hooker.html' title='Hooker'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-416181873574513537</id><published>2009-01-25T07:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T07:06:42.259-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Teenager</title><content type='html'>This story was on boxing day. We were all drinking and having a good time. I was sitting with my cousin Tara just talking away, when my cellphone started to vibrate. Taking it out and looking, it was my uncle, who was sitting in the chair in front of me, texting me. He asked me what I was drinking. I responded and that was that. But then he just continued to text me, big wtf. Eventually he was sitting next to me and texting me. I just stopped responding and he was like "Why did you reply to my text!", i turned and said "You're sitting right next to me...." and then he went "Ah yes, but I'm being a teenager tonight!". Later on in the evening, my other uncle decided he would let everyone know that he didn't wear underwear anymore. My aunt (his sister) didn't believe him, so took a peek down the back of his pants and then exclaimed "Oh god, he wasn't lying." &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-416181873574513537?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/416181873574513537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/teenager.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/416181873574513537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/416181873574513537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/teenager.html' title='Teenager'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-4587743703207517807</id><published>2009-01-25T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T07:01:50.164-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cock sucker</title><content type='html'>I believe it was just another random family Dinner when this one happened. We were sitting in the living room and Matthew was trying to pick a fight with either his mom or dad. This always happens, he gets really rambunctious. So eventually he accidently ended up elbowing his mom , in which she called him a cock sucker. The whole room kind of went silent and Matthew had this hilarious look on his face, like what the fuck. We all started to laugh really hard and then my dad said "Well, maybe if you weren't a cock sucker!" and then just continued laughing. Basically everyone made jokes until my aunt said that was enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-4587743703207517807?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/4587743703207517807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/cock-sucker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/4587743703207517807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/4587743703207517807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/cock-sucker.html' title='Cock sucker'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-6465061463306046506</id><published>2009-01-23T13:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T13:37:40.418-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Video</title><content type='html'>Here's a little somethin' extra for today:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JgjDMziVGwI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JgjDMziVGwI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"&gt;My voice isn't that annoying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-6465061463306046506?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/6465061463306046506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/video.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/6465061463306046506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/6465061463306046506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/video.html' title='Video'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-3067959400246572115</id><published>2009-01-23T08:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T09:03:30.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kyle Rules</title><content type='html'>This happened back when I lived in London. I went to a show with Danielle, it was at the Embassy. Some bands I liked were on the Embassy side and then there was a Punk show on the Whippet side. So that meant Kyle was there as well, completely wasted. Danielle, Sam Sheff and I went outside, not sure why though. Kyle was out there, so we decided to talk to him. I introduced Sam to him and Kyle introduced him self, something like this : "Im Kyle, Kyle rules... never forget." At the point, Sam seemed fairly confused, so Kyle pulled his bottom lip down, to reveal at tattoo that said "Kyle Rules.". At seeing this Sam said "Sweet tattoo, I want the inside of my lip done too.." Kyle smiled big and said "Get Kyle rules...because I rule". Then after some small talk, we all went back inside, to our appropriate sides. Kyle then was texting me, but none of it made any sense. I'm assuming he was using T9, but it just wasn't making any sense. I was even showing Danielle the texts but she didn't understand either. Eventually we went home (Danielle and I), Terrell came over and then Kyle randomly showed up. Kyle stayed up the entire night with Terrell and getting more drunk.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Note: Kyle texts everyone and anyone with "Kyle Rules". Its basically his catch phrase. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-3067959400246572115?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/3067959400246572115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/kyle-rules.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/3067959400246572115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/3067959400246572115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/kyle-rules.html' title='Kyle Rules'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-4752047517858624378</id><published>2009-01-22T12:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T12:59:58.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Divorce</title><content type='html'>This just happened and it actually made me laugh so hard. My dad, My mom and I were downstairs in the living room talking about running into woodstock. I told my dad I wanted Pizza Hut and then he said they weren't going near that area. But then my mom spoke up and said that she did kinda want to go to Zellers. Then the conversation went something like this :&lt;div&gt;"Hey dad, you married into this..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well that can easily be fixed.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Jerry! You wouldn't survive without me"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oh?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yes, you really wouldn't"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"That sounds like a challenge to me....."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"....."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Divorce! Here we come!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Not funny dad.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"OH... uh errrrr SOOOO PIZZA HUT EH?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Honestly, If you were there, you'd laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-4752047517858624378?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/4752047517858624378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/divorce.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/4752047517858624378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/4752047517858624378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/divorce.html' title='Divorce'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-5397847366237973926</id><published>2009-01-21T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T12:13:45.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boobs</title><content type='html'>During the period of time when my Grandpa was hospitalized , everyone was really emotional. There was one day, where he wasn't doing very well and everyone was down in the dumps. My two aunts were discussing something, when my aunt Michelle, went out into the hall for a breather. I followed her out and we stared out the window for a little bit. Eventually she spoke up and said "Jessica, I think your boobs are bigger than mine..." through her tears. I laughed and cried with her and told her "No, I really don't think so, yours are definitely bigger". We continued to laugh and joke for the next couple of minutes. Even when we were at the lowest of lows, we still had something to laugh about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-5397847366237973926?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/5397847366237973926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/boobs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/5397847366237973926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/5397847366237973926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/boobs.html' title='Boobs'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-2617570429988093812</id><published>2009-01-20T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T21:11:04.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hook's Buffet</title><content type='html'>This has to be at least 3 - 4 years ago but I remember it very well. My family was gathered at Hook's Buffet in London, minus two families. So it was my Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Nicole, Uncle Danny, Aunt Michelle, Uncle Jim, Cousin Mark, Cousin Matt, Mom, Dad and Brother. So anyways, we had gotten our food and were all seated and chatting away. My Uncle Jim dived right into telling us this story that happened only night before. It start with my cousin Matthew breaking something but not owning up to it. My uncle had known that he had broke whatever it was, but decided to have some fun with the situation first. He confronted Matthew and asked if he had done it, He said no. My Uncle sent both Matthew and Mark to their rooms, until someone fessed up. About 5 minutes later, he called Mark into the living room, Matt still in his room. He told Mark what they were going to do and to just play a long with it. My uncle loudly declared that Mark must have broken whatever it was and should be punished. He grabbed a lard phone book and ruler and hit it, which as soon as it made a loud smack, Mark would scream. He then sent Mark back into his room. They continued this routine a couple more times until Matthew finally came out of his room, yelling to stop hurting Mark and that he had been the one who broke whatever it was. Needless to say, He was grounded for a while and told the truth, that Mark wasn't actually being spanked or hurt. Matthew didn't find it as funny as the rest of the family did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-2617570429988093812?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/2617570429988093812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/hooks-buffet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/2617570429988093812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/2617570429988093812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/hooks-buffet.html' title='Hook&apos;s Buffet'/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2036278030592937508.post-258801821163982798</id><published>2009-01-20T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T21:01:33.699-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alright, Originally I had made a blog, to write about my Dad. I decided that, fuck that, I needed to make a blog about my entire family. My entire family is hilarious and we have the most ridiculous times when we get together. So basically, each day, Im going to rack my memory and post a story!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2036278030592937508-258801821163982798?l=myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/feeds/258801821163982798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/alright-originally-i-had-made-blog-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/258801821163982798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2036278030592937508/posts/default/258801821163982798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfamilyisbetterthanyours.blogspot.com/2009/01/alright-originally-i-had-made-blog-to.html' title=''/><author><name>jessicanichelle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08580091647120500487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QDkvdO9j2Ko/S-NW2EdyNDI/AAAAAAAAAAU/59WGFdPerc8/S220/Photo+40.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
