tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post5917764885532008807..comments2008-04-20T11:50:39.690-04:00Alejandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01188236667131395996noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-20329084090960375072008-04-20T11:50:00.000-04:002008-04-20T11:50:00.000-04:00

Lol my gay friend asked me to the prom, too.

ZenDenizenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14005775186817411944noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-70362242704543079642008-04-15T23:58:00.000-04:002008-04-15T23:58:00.000-04:00

Alejandra,love your blog so I had tagged you for a MEME.http://eatrdie.blogspot.com/2008/04/meme.htmlKeep up the great writing...and cooking!

Norm Schoenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05578625756483131492noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-12888594539695745472008-04-14T00:33:00.000-04:002008-04-14T00:33:00.000-04:00

I was a 3rd grade teacher. I love Ramona...

Linahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03183380353007875717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-42800834164270261032008-04-11T21:06:00.000-04:002008-04-11T21:06:00.000-04:00

All I remember is hanging out with the drummers and something about canned goat.

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-42875225958727818992008-04-11T11:42:00.000-04:002008-04-11T11:42:00.000-04:00

My favorite school lunchtime memory involves my mother's daily ritual of saying to one of us: "*insert name*, you want to tell your father what you did this morning?"We always shrunk in our chairs as we were met with my father's ominous glare, waiting to hear what sorts of wrong-doing we'd performed that morning.She was always betraying our trust this way. On one hand, she felt that my father was

Moehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00755769021797379097noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-47634933815547915412008-04-10T15:07:00.000-04:002008-04-10T15:07:00.000-04:00

I remember high school best. Growing up in a small town had its advantages. We had an open campus and I was notorious for being able to stay out of trouble with teachers and administrators while regularly breaking rules (pretty much out in the open). My favorite memories are of arranging for group picnics on the lawn in the spring. I would use class time to talk others into it and collect

PheMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18416960108949176508noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-34896654981369104092008-04-09T18:10:00.000-04:002008-04-09T18:10:00.000-04:00

I think the best part of this blog is the potential that some guy could pop in and say..."I'm not gay!"Everyone loves a good train-wreck.

Ryan Placchettihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16643877862728867595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-19049308673178687602008-04-08T20:48:00.000-04:002008-04-08T20:48:00.000-04:00

In seventh grade at Bedford Middle School, all the cool girls (or at least the ones I thought were cool) bought a bagel smothered in cream cheese, a blue slush puppy and a chocolate fudge brownie. This lunch was especially cool because it cost exaclty $2--the same amount as a "lunch ticket" that could buy a hot meal from the other part of the lunch line.I always brought my lunch. The most

APhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04795138592939093232noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-70619207861533665202008-04-08T14:22:00.000-04:002008-04-08T14:22:00.000-04:00

Hey! That was my entry!

Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10188103984666876013noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720533874747570790.post-55949637644147781982008-04-08T14:09:00.000-04:002008-04-08T14:09:00.000-04:00

Let's see...There was the time in 3rd grade where I dared one of the kids at my table to blow up his empty juice box, put it on the floor, and stomp on it just to see what would happen. He did, and the burst of sound caused everyone in the cafeteria to stop talking and look at us. There was the time in I think junior year of high school when a bunch of pranking seniors, clad in camo and ski masks

I-66http://www.blogger.com/profile/12929341629393348737noreply@blogger.com