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Nothing more than I normally do to avoid getting sick. I wash my hands and keep them out of my mouth, nose , and eyes.
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When I was a little girl, my sister, Linda took me with her to give blood. I asked why she did that. She said, "Because I don't have money to give."

It made sense to me. We should do something to help other people (even when we need help ourselves) and you give what you have. So, in high school, I started giving blood, wrote letters for Amnesty International, did beach cleanup.

Every now and then, I have more money than time. At those times, I give money. I currently have more time than money, so I look for things on volunteermatch.org to do. Recently, a friend introduced me to volunteering at the pound. I am very glad to have joined weekends@BARC .

Through volunteering I get the benefit of meeting a lot of different people and getting the reminder of how lucky I am. I have clean water to drink. I have everything that I need and most of what I want. I am safe. I am well fed. I have a veeeeeery comfortable bed to sleep in. I am lucky. I also believe that if one day I need help, there are people to help.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]I would (and have) told. I would want someone to tell me. I cannot control how they react to it, but I think it is better to be able to live with myself than to keep a friend. I am not stupid enough to trash talk their significant other regardless of how I feel because if they stay with that person, they are likely going to have a hard time getting past whatever ugly things I have said about the person that they love.

If my friend chooses to stay with that person, there is nothing I can do about it, but I cannot live with having not said anything.
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Do people really do that? I remember in school people threatened to pinch me for not wearing green, but they didn't. I am assuming the look in my eye of "go ahead. I DARE you" made them give it a second thought.

I would usually just point to my eyes and say, "I have some green in there." to excuse my error in neglecting to wear green for this stupid holiday.
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I do not look like any celebrity now, but I used to resemble Monica Lewisnky.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]I have met minor celebrities here and there, but the biggest celebrity I met was President Bill Clinton during his first term. He was doing the race and sports talk at the Wortham Theater in Houston. I was with the Texas Young Democrats and College Democrats and we got invited to work with the White House advance team. I was lucky enough to get to be Wolf Blitzer's toadie for the day. As payment for our time and help, we got to meet Bill Clinton and have our picture taken with him.

I knew he was in a rush when he was coming through shaking our hands, so I wanted to draw attention to myself so he would talk to me, not just shake my hand and say. "Thanks." I had a button I was wearing on my waist that said, "Will Rogers never met Pat Buchanan" I moved it to my shirt. When President Clinton got to me, he stopped, pointed at my chest and said, "Heh heh. I like that." I was flabbergasted. OMG, the President was checking out my rack!!!! What a horndog! Then I remembered my button on my shirt. lol. I said, "Thank you." He asked when I got it. I told him I got it at the Texas Young Democrats convention the month before.

Afterward, We went to a BBQ place downtown to party and sing karaoke with some secret service agents (which by the way are generally HUGE men).
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Texting. Always. I don't know if it is the ADD, or me being inconsiderate, but talking on the phone takes all my attention, and when I am texting I can still do several things at once.
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Petrichor and emollient are favorites of mine.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]Oh great. Here is where the crazy will really show.

I was afraid someone was under my bed, and if I walked to my bed, a hand would reach out and grab my ankle. To insure that wouldn't happen, I would jump from the bathroom door to my bed which was about 4 feet or so.

I would lay on the side of the bed that I landed on, then every so quietly would inch over to the other side of the bed to sleep. The reason was so the thing under my bed would attack the wrong side and I would have a chance to run away.

Also, at least 4 nights out of the week, I would plan my various escape routes in the even the house caught on fire. I would decide what clothes to throw up, locate the animals so I could grab them, and make sure I knew where my clarinet was.

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I have informed my family (and the state of Texas via registration) that I want any usable organs donated and whatever is left to be donated to science. If my body is rejected for donation, they can do whatever they want with it. Won't matter to me. I will be dead.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]Karen stopped her car in the middle of the road one day because she saw just a peak of wood in a dumpster. It was an awesome handmade solid wood rocking horse. I helped her pull it out of the dumpster and we brought it home. She whitewashed it and cleaned it up. Con really enjoyed it. When he outgrew it (read: rocked it so hard I thought he was going to kill himself) we gave it to someone else.

Also, I found a mighty fine Russian Blue Kitten trapped in a upholstered chair in the dumpster.  We named him Bodhi. That was a pretty good find. (Good think that tiny guy had such a loud meow- It was June and he wouldn't have made it another day in the Texas heat) He is a good cat.

We still have a neat big blue platter my sister found while dumpster diving in VA in the mid 70's.

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I do. I also don't dig fish in tanks, rats in cages, ect. I would LOVE to have all kinds of animals, but I don't think it is fair to keep animals that wouldn't normally choose to be living with you.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]The strangest thing that I know * is that frog piss tastes like mint.


*(and I mean I know it from personal experience and it was validated by another person's experience, I didn't read it somewhere)
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[Error: unknown template qotd]I vote Ike so that my roof stays on today.
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I was working at Bank One. I was on the elevator and heard someone talking about planes crashing. When I walked into my office (a cubicle farm) and everyone was standing, looking stunned. I asked what happened. One of the managers told me that a plane hit one of the towers of the world trade center. My legs weakened a bit. I was stunned. I walked to my desk and logged in. There were no calls coming in. None. I generally took anywhere from 80-132 calls a day. No one was calling any of the 200 people in my office.

I logged onto CNN and saw the news as a second plane hit. I started crying. That is not unusual. I am freaky sensitive and am actually crying now as I remember the event. I was just quietly crying and refreshing the news pages.

A call came in and I answered it. While on the phone with the gentleman, I was reading about a plane being missing. I thought of my sister working next to the FBI building on the other side of town. I wanted her out of the area. There was no reason to think a plane was headed there, but all I knew was someone was targeting symbolic buildings and I was worried about my sister. The call was hard to finish. The gentleman offered to let me go and he would call back later, but I told him it was fine and finished the call.

I opted to not leave at noon when it was offered. I did leave at 3. I went to pick my son up at the YMCA. He was 7 years old. I asked him if he knew what had happened that day. He vaguely knew. I explained. His first question was if the president was okay. My sister and I watched the news for days and sobbed for days. We understood what what coming because of it. Connor kept bringing us kleenex and paper towels for our tears. How was I supposed to explain to a 7 year old what horrors we do to each other? I told him that we should just pray for peace for the souls of those that had died and peace for the people that do such horrible things to each other so that they can stop.

Seven years later and I still cry.

Yesterday, Connor was shown a film about 9/11 in school (he is now a high school freshman). He talked about seeing things he had not previously noticed like the people jumping out or falling out of the windows. Some of his classmates were crying.

I hope that neither Con nor I ever live through such an event again.
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I think my favorite would have to be X-Cops. But that is a hard pick. There were so many amazing episodes.

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Funny thing. In 2003 I got an invite code to join Livejournal from [livejournal.com profile] culturalbaggage of encyclopedia dramatica fame. Within a year, he turned out to be one of the ugliest, most vile people I have ever encountered online and IRL. He is the only person I have had to block from commenting on my journal in the almost 5 years I have had it.

Actually, he is in court right this very second for some of his more douchbaggery actions.

I am grateful for the introduction to livejournal. I will not be sending him a thank you card, however.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]My father calls me Shorty, even though I am 5'10" because at age 7, I was short to him

My sister called me Farthead because she would fart in my face.

My friends often call me Gerb or Gerbs because my last name is Gerber. 

My son calls me Mom or Fini (what he calls his aunt) because at age 14, he still can't get us straight. We are those chick parental units.
 
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[Error: unknown template qotd]I think the most common one is how I am strong, smart and confident.  The truth is, I am absolutely eat up with insecurity. I don't feel particularly strong, smart or confident. I question every decision I make, every emotion I feel. I am thin skinned. I feel like a big phoney when people tell me such things.
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I answered this earlier, but reading someone else's answer reminded me of this:

I told a woman who had6 miscarriages and desperately wanted a baby, "Perhaps you should eat a sandwich. I may be fat, but at least my body can sustain life. Your fetuses starve and die before they are ever born"

Not the kindest or classiest way to handle the issue.

I was working in the accounts receivable are of my college book store and Connor was about 4 months old. I came in every day and worked, kept my mouth shut, did my work, then went home to my baby. There was this impossibly thin Asian woman that worked with me and the other 4 women. They chatted all day, so I knew that the Asian woman kept getting pregnant than miscarrying.

One day they were talking about something and she said, ". . . take that fat cow over there for instance. . ." and gestured at me. WTF? I didn't ever say anything except "good morning", and have a nice evening"" every day.

So, I said, "Perhaps you should eat a sandwich. I may be fat, but at least my body can sustain life. Your fetuses starve and die before they are ever born" and left. She burst into tears and all the other ladies consoled her and when I got back told me how horrid I was. She didn't come back for days.

I didn't feel bad then. She was cruel to me for no good reason.

I feel bad now. I should have taken the high road. She was obviously a miserable person. I didn't need to make it worse. I could have stood up for myself with out cutting her so deeply.

I seem to have a knack for that. It is a sick talent. I have an innate ability to know what a person's insecurities and sensitive spots are and can stab them right there.

That is why I get quiet when I am angry now. You can't really ever take back when you say something. It is out. You can apologize, gloss over, spin, and lie, but you can never take anything you say back.

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