<?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-5484926791912046574</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:13:02.603-08:00</updated><category term='young women'/><category term='getting out of the shower'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='hot wife'/><category term='gossip'/><category term='midlife crisis'/><category term='Holiday'/><category term='sexting'/><category term='divorce'/><category term='karma'/><category term='deployment'/><category term='hanging out'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='tricking out wife'/><category term='inexcusable actions'/><category term='two families'/><category term='nude pics'/><category term='two girls'/><category term='she&apos;s gorgeous'/><category term='cellphones'/><category term='cheating'/><category term='pretty big cock'/><category term='nightly price'/><category term='romantic partners'/><category term='old women'/><category term='girls talking'/><category term='daughers'/><category term='collge bar'/><category term='alimony'/><category term='locker room'/><category term='crazy bitch'/><category term='skanking it up'/><category term='stripper wives'/><category term='naked girls butt'/><category term='Crazy Sex'/><category term='texting'/><category term='hooker'/><title type='text'>My 20-Something Co-Workers</title><subtitle type='html'>This is a blog of many conversations I have had with my 20-something male coworkers. I will try not to disclose, or atleast change their first names. This is in no way suppose to degrade,condone, reward, or be an analysis of their behavior.  Have a good laugh and enjoy!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6469679515525222155</id><published>2011-11-09T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T07:52:54.154-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot wife'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='midlife crisis'/><title type='text'>Buying a Bike and a Wife</title><content type='html'>Most of the guys I work with have money to spend on extraneous toys or midlife crisis accessories. Again, I say guys because I do not work with any women regularly. One of my male co-workers recently separated from his wife of 18 years and decided it was time for a new toy, or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did I show you pictures of the new bike I'm buying?" asked one of my male co-workers, pulling out his phone to show pictures of him posed on a custom painted chopper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow its beautiful," I said admiring his new toy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea it is gorgeous," said my co-worker, "and you should have seen the guy's wife. I was going to offer him another 20 grand for his wife she was so hot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My co-worker is not yet divorced, he is only separated. Although I know he was joking, it was very inappropriate to put a price on a women. He has worked in countries where this is the custom, a monetary value is put on your future bride. However, this was New York. Monetary value aside-this woman was married.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6469679515525222155?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6469679515525222155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/buying-bike-and-wife.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6469679515525222155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6469679515525222155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/buying-bike-and-wife.html' title='Buying a Bike and a Wife'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-7327052368964093418</id><published>2011-11-05T04:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T07:33:13.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Strip Club Waitress</title><content type='html'>There is no secret what really goes on behind the scenes at restaurant and bars. A cook is always sleeping with a waitress, who is angry because she caught the manager sleeping with a hostess while he was suppose to be sleeping with her. Constant drama is the norm in most restaurants. Just like the field I work in now, nearly everyone had a back story that involved a little bit of uncouth activity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I used to waitress at [Generic Strip Club/Topless Bar]," said one of my 20-something female co-workers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow that must have been a tough job," I said imagining the daily grope fest she must have endured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It had its moments," she replied,"I got a lot of weird requests. One time this old guy told me he would give me $150 to show him my tits-so I did it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You did?" I asked shocked-this women was now a mother of two, and didn't seem like the type to do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea its not a huge deal-its not the same as stripping," she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few of the other girls we worked with "stripped on the side," a term that meant they weren't full fledge strippers or didn't consider themselves strippers because they actually worked at topless bars. I suppose flashing is not the same as stripping, but waitressing at a strip club and flashing customers could easily lead to being a full-fledge stripper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-7327052368964093418?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/7327052368964093418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/another-strip-club-waitress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7327052368964093418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7327052368964093418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/another-strip-club-waitress.html' title='Another Strip Club Waitress'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-1445382427962887951</id><published>2011-11-04T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T08:20:39.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Never a Stripper, Always a Waitress</title><content type='html'>My co-workers and I had a running joke. Girls that work at strip clubs were always a waitress and never admitted to being a stripper. When I worked as a waitress (at a restaurant) I knew a few girls that admitted to stripping on the side just to say they did it, or doing bizarre things while working as waitress at a strip club. None of them ever came out and said they were a stripper and that was how they made their money. This all changed one day when I was Sales Rep. for one of the big four cell phone companies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you work there?" I asked a customer nodding at to the tight fitting baby t-shirt from one of the strip clubs in the area she was wearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes I do," she freely admitted with a hint of hesitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thats cool, we see a lot of the girls come through here," I said pointing at the three lingerie shops very close to the store I worked in. Many of them were are customers and stopped by during the shopping trips when looking for their work clothes-again always waitresses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's not bad there, I work in the topless bar half but after 2 am they sometimes let us come over to the strip club part," she continued while texting away on her phone,"you usually don't even have to get naked but you can still make great tips."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and my 20-something co-worker were very taken by this statement-I said before every girl that worked at the strip clubs in the area said they were a waitress and never a striper. I should also mention the difference between a topless bar and strip club is not much-it just means the girls have to keep their thongs on, but the patrons can still drink liquor. Alcoholic beverages of any kind are forbidden in strip clubs in this state. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually the girl left and not long after my 20-something co-worker asked me what her number was, "Really? You want her number? We can't do that in the first place-and you want to date a stripper?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You got to give her credit-she was upfront about her job, if she didn't lie about that-she probably will be honestly about everything else," said my 20-something co-worker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of my 20-something co-workers (and still do) as lacking a moral code, and this blog is the proof. Perhaps he did just want her to say he dated or picked up a hot stripper, but for once I like to think he actually was actually thinking with his other head (although I doubt it).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-1445382427962887951?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/1445382427962887951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/never-stripper-always-waitress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1445382427962887951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1445382427962887951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/never-stripper-always-waitress.html' title='Never a Stripper, Always a Waitress'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-890798363446347425</id><published>2011-11-03T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T10:23:43.166-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hooker'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nightly price'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tricking out wife'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stripper wives'/><title type='text'>Sitting In a Truck</title><content type='html'>"Up in North Dakota I was at a site with a bunch of guys, there were no women delivery people or 2nd parties either," said one of my co-workers,"so any women that showed up on site automatically stuck out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I am the only woman on site regularly, we do occasionally have a female delivery worker, consultant, or day worker show up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"After a few nights out on site I noticed she sat in her car usually, so I asked one of the guys who she was-he told me she was so-and-so's old lady (wife)," continued my co-worker, "most of the guys didn't bring their wives up to North Dakota and almost all the guys were from the south so I asked him if she ever cold just sitting in her truck all night and why she didn't go into one of the trailers. He didn't really have an answer and just sort of smile and shook me off."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The next day the lady's 'husband' showed up and asked me if I wanted to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;spend some time with her&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. I didn't know what that meant at first until he quoted me a price."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He was tricking out his WIFE?" I exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, a little while later I asked around and found out she was a stripper in town at one of the clubs, and he married her up here a month or two before. He was collecting cash on the side while she slept with some of the guys on site," explained my co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hookers masquerade as different things out here, and none of their cover stories surprise me any more. Making money on the side with your new stripper wife, or girl from back home are just a few of the ways women and men make money off the books and on site.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-890798363446347425?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/890798363446347425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/sitting-in-truck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/890798363446347425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/890798363446347425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/sitting-in-truck.html' title='Sitting In a Truck'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6126362375524493273</id><published>2011-11-02T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T12:11:58.192-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='romantic partners'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='two girls'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='she&apos;s gorgeous'/><title type='text'>Michelle Meet Michelle</title><content type='html'>"When I was up here a little while back I was hanging out with these two different girls-luckily they were both named Michelle," said my well over 20-something supervisor. "One was a gal I knew from a sales girl out here, and the other was waitress at this  bar I went to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well thats good, you could never mix up their names then," I said still realizing this man was married and probably had another girlfriend in a different state bring his total to at least four romantic partners. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea that was great at first," continued the supervisor, "but one day Michelle was suppose to come out and meet me in the afternoon and was late-and the other Michelle was going to come out and meet me in the evening for late night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh no," I said knowing where this story was going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Michelle one was just leaving the trailer as Michelle two was showing up and walking in, so I said 'Michelle meet Michelle'."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know theres not a lot of women out here-but why didn't you try to play it off like she was consultant or a sales rep?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well you need to see how my girls dress," said the supervisor,"but after the first Michelle left she texted me from the car to say "Damnit [supervisor's name] she's gorgeous!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if either relationship continued after this, but each girl had the benefit most women do not-knowing full well their partner was not exclusive and exactly what their competition looked like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6126362375524493273?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6126362375524493273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/michelle-meet-michelle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6126362375524493273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6126362375524493273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/11/michelle-meet-michelle.html' title='Michelle Meet Michelle'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-2431210117605290524</id><published>2011-10-31T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T11:28:48.202-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='divorce'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='two families'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alimony'/><title type='text'>Two Families, Two Countries</title><content type='html'>Women have written books and made millions telling the story of their cheating husband that had two families in two different places. I never thought they were lying, but I didn't think I would ever meet someone with a similar experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was working off shore for a long time with this one dude, he had a wife and a few kids in the US. We worked off shore close to Thailand, I think, and he met some chick there and married her. She ended up having his kid too, but his plan when his contract was over was to pick up and go back to the United States and forget about her," said one of my co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's a dick move," I said fully knowing this was not an uncommon story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea it is. So we were leaving the rig for the last and stepped off the helicopter pad. Standing at the gate was his US wife and kids there to "surprise" him, and not fifteen feet away was his Thailand wife and kid," he said. "This dude could not believe it-as soon as he saw them-he begged the supervisor to let him get back on the helicopter and go back off shore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did he let him leave?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hell no, he slapped him on the shoulder and told him he was on his own and he was going to have to deal with it at some point," continued my co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out later his US wife got a divorced and took him to the cleaners, and he deserved it. Her monthly alimony check was five-figures not counting child support.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-2431210117605290524?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/2431210117605290524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/10/two-families-two-countries.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2431210117605290524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2431210117605290524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/10/two-families-two-countries.html' title='Two Families, Two Countries'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6790920689474663991</id><published>2011-10-29T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-29T06:57:47.379-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='divorce'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='young women'/><title type='text'>The Only Thing an Old Woman Can Do Is Find a Younger One</title><content type='html'>One day after all my work was done, I sat down with the head of the site. He was an older man from the south, new to the site but not to the field. Being polite I asked him about his home, and who he left behind-if he missed his wife or girlfriend, his kids or his pets. Most of the guys I work with are anything but coy, but I was still taken aback by his answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hell no I don't miss my wife!" he said laughing, "I married her because I knocked her up at 15 and her daddy made me marry her. I was actually dating her sister in college at the time, but her daddy showed up and said she was pregnant and I was the one that did it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You stayed married all these years?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea but she knew I had other women. I always told her when I was coming home and gave her a few days notice. She stayed with me for the money and I didn't want her to take half of everything-but I finally gave her joint control of the bank accounts she took all my cash. So now we are getting a divorce."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't be! She's old now! I'll get my money back and besides-the only thing an old women can do is bring me a younger one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously this was not the story from a 20-something, but the women he dated were. He proceeded to show me pictures of the young beautiful women he dated on the side. I knew it was only because of his wealth, and he probably did too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6790920689474663991?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6790920689474663991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/10/only-thing-old-woman-can-do-is-find.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6790920689474663991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6790920689474663991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/10/only-thing-old-woman-can-do-is-find.html' title='The Only Thing an Old Woman Can Do Is Find a Younger One'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-3412518274345924684</id><published>2011-10-23T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T19:55:54.606-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pretty big cock'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='karma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='getting out of the shower'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='daughers'/><title type='text'>Stepping Out of the Shower</title><content type='html'>"I do have a pretty big cock," said one of my co-workers. In the context of the conversation-where they continually asked me how large my boyfriends' (past and present) genitals were-it was not entirely out of no where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This one time I stepped out of the shower and 'D had these two girls over, one was starring at it and was 'oooooh' so I grabbed it and wiggled it around in a circle to tempt her," continued my 20-something co-worker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She kept starring at me so I was like 'Yea you like that!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why he did this was not as curious as to why there were girls hanging out near the men's bunkhouse near the shower. I know better than to go near there, but most girls do not. My other co-workers applauded this action. Many stated they remembered the incident and offered their encouragement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly this co-worker had just gotten married. He also has a very young daughter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a person that believes in karma of sorts. Gene Simmons has a beautiful young daughter after bedding more women than he can count. Steve Tyler had three or four daughters. One is a model, another one of the most beautiful and talented actresses in Hollywood, and his youngest is a talented singer who may take after her father. I know one day my coworkers will face challenges with their daughters-this is repayment for their behavior when they are away from home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-3412518274345924684?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/3412518274345924684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/10/stepping-out-of-shower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3412518274345924684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3412518274345924684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/10/stepping-out-of-shower.html' title='Stepping Out of the Shower'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-672375767336113378</id><published>2011-09-26T21:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T21:49:16.666-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hanging out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naked girls butt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stripper wives'/><title type='text'>She Wants to "Hang Out"</title><content type='html'>"This is one of 'D's friends," said a co-worker to a group of co-workers as he showed us a picture of a naked girls behind,"she wants to you know, come out here and hang out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is she his girlfriend?" I asked. It wasn't that I was naive, I just knew a few stories of guys tricking out their recent former stripper wives or girlfriends to other guys on site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Naw she just wants to get a ticket out here and then hang out with us," he said winking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an all too common story in the gas and oil field. A guy brings a girl from home to the site and then has her sleep with a few of the other guys or "hang out" while he collects cash on the side. Sometimes a site manager will put his foot and not allow women on site, but a few weeks or months later the cycle starts over with new girls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-672375767336113378?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/672375767336113378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/she-wants-to-hang-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/672375767336113378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/672375767336113378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/she-wants-to-hang-out.html' title='She Wants to &quot;Hang Out&quot;'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-7425637482897148814</id><published>2011-09-19T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T18:26:28.374-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='texting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cellphones'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crazy bitch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexting'/><title type='text'>Texts From Somewhere Else</title><content type='html'>"I think you should text your wife instead of all these other crazy chicks all the time," I said to one of my 20-something co-workers, notorious for stepping out on his wife with "crazy bitches" (his words).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I used to but I don't any more," he replied. "When we first got our phones we texted all the time. But then after a few a months we didn't text any more so I have to get my texts from somewhere else."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appalled that this was not only literal but figurative, I could do nothing but stare at him in disbelief. He really did feel the need to constantly text (and probably sext) other girls because he wife was most likely busy with their three kids at home. This particular 20-something co-worker also worked nights and usually was texting this girls at three or four in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-7425637482897148814?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/7425637482897148814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/texts-from-somewhere-else.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7425637482897148814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7425637482897148814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/texts-from-somewhere-else.html' title='Texts From Somewhere Else'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-7666709431408013518</id><published>2011-09-16T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T21:51:53.122-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='divorce'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='deployment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>How My Co-Worker Met His Kid's Mother</title><content type='html'>One of my co-workers has a habit of hooking up with "crazy psycho b*tches," his words. Without hesitation, he says his wife of eight years and mother of his three children is definitely one of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well I was eighteen when I married her," he said," I told her if she married me she would never have to work a day of her life ever again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That was nice of you-where did you work when you married her?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She was a cashier at a grocery store and I was a bagger. See her husband was just deployed to Iraq-I guess she was lonely. She was six months pregnant with my kid when he got back and they got divorced." he answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost couldn't believe this story, but later confirmed with other people that it was indeed true. I would like to say their story had a somewhat happy ending, but it doesn't. Although they are still married with three kids, my co-worker still cheats on his wife or attempts to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asking a married cashier to get divorced and married someone else, while her husband is deployed, getting her pregnant prior to her divorce being processed is how my co-worker met his kid's mother and wife-for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-7666709431408013518?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/7666709431408013518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/how-my-co-worker-met-his-kids-mother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7666709431408013518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7666709431408013518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/09/how-my-co-worker-met-his-kids-mother.html' title='How My Co-Worker Met His Kid&apos;s Mother'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-328251392848514735</id><published>2011-08-03T09:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T09:44:31.918-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='skanking it up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nude pics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexting'/><title type='text'>The Girl That Sends Naked Pictures, Again</title><content type='html'>Living in a small town with only a few bars and very few people means guys will most likely hook with the same girl from time to time. Although I meet a fraction of these women, I tend to know them by what they let guys do to them, what they do themselves, and other peculiar habits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That was the night Andy hooked up with the girl who works at the gas station and had a thing with the old engineer, Jason" said one of co-workers. "She just walked in to the bar was like 'Oh hey!' and right away she started making out with him!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wait the same girl that was sending naked pictures to Jason after only knowing him for a few days?" I exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yea, the little girl-she probably did porn of some kind. She was all over him that night, and he didn't care because the fat girl was all over him again," replied my co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everyone is looking for a life-long partner when they go out to meet some one at the bar. However, this particular female has a track record of hooking up with men quickly and sending naked pictures of herself to men she barely knows. As for the two of my 20-something co-workers that hooked up with her, I hope they get blood tests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note-the co-worker that received the nude pictures of the young women was more than happy to show me and anyone that wanted a look.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-328251392848514735?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/328251392848514735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/08/girl-that-sends-naked-pictures-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/328251392848514735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/328251392848514735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/08/girl-that-sends-naked-pictures-again.html' title='The Girl That Sends Naked Pictures, Again'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-1278264267831261390</id><published>2011-07-29T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T12:49:24.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your favorite food, week after week</title><content type='html'>Most of the men I work with have traveled extensively, some all over the world. One of my co-workers worked and lived in Venezuela for almost three years right after getting married. However, his wife did not accompany him on his journey so he had plenty of time to indulge in one of his favorite past times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There was a time when I was doing it with three women a day," said one of my co-workers who at the time was a 20-something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Three women at the same time?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, just throughout the day," he explained. "It would start off innocently enough. I would do the women who slept over from the night before in the morning. Then around lunch time I would go out and lay on the beach and find some one there. At night you would go out to the bar and meet some one else-and the whole thing started over again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And none of them were prostitutes?" another 20-something co-worker asked skeptically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, its different there. Here women like you and say 'lets make-out' there it is 'I like you lets have sex.'" continued my co-worker. "I got so sick of it. I could look at a gorgeous woman on the beach and just not feel a thing-it was like eating your favorite food all the time and then not being able to eat it ever again. Of course, a week later I would be ready to go again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My co-worker told me his wife knows he cheated on her, but she doesn't understand the extent. Since they have reconciled and have been married for almost 18 years. Unfortunately this co-worker's marriage seems to be in turmoil frequently-and I do not question the reasons why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-1278264267831261390?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/1278264267831261390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/07/your-favorite-food-week-after-week.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1278264267831261390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1278264267831261390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/07/your-favorite-food-week-after-week.html' title='Your favorite food, week after week'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-5220655487556944369</id><published>2011-07-05T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T02:37:22.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Repeated offense</title><content type='html'>"He told me he only hooked up with that fat annoying girl like twice," I said to a co-worker referencing a different co-worker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He has hooked up with her at least half a dozen times," replied my co-worked. "We were at the store the other day and asked where he had been-he made up some stupid bull $hit story and we knew where he was."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He was with the fat girl?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea he was! So I asked him, 'Why do you keep banging her?' and he tells me, 'Dude she let me put it in her ass!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I bolted for the door and almost threw up. Upon returning I told my co-worker to continue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He said 'He just wanted to see what the boundaries were with her'-apparently there are none."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Repulsed by the conversation I didn't want to ask any more questions. Although the young women is fat-she is also annoying and not the nicest person to be around according to the other co-workers that have spent time around her. I am sorry to say this is what happens when men are left unsupervised and get bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the women who has allowed this happen-it takes two tango and she should have more respect for herself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-5220655487556944369?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/5220655487556944369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/07/repeated-offense.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5220655487556944369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5220655487556944369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/07/repeated-offense.html' title='Repeated offense'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-3246149949844747328</id><published>2011-06-10T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T22:48:19.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Pound Bag of $hit in a 5 Pound Bag</title><content type='html'>"I haven't hung here much, after I hooked up with this one chick, its been sort of embarassing," said one of my male coworkers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why, was she old?" I asked, as many older women sixty five plus, attempt to seduce men almost fifty years their junior at this particular bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No she wasn't really old...." he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She was fat?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That is an understatement. She was three of us combined, about four hundred pounds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although this co-worker is not the thinnest man in the world, he could not possibly have weighed more than 190 pounds. Being able to hook up with a women of that size is quite a feat for a man of his weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll let some one else to you the story," he said, clearly mournful of his actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I berated him, he still would not tell me how a why a decent looking guy hooked up with a 10 pound bag of shit in a five pound bag (as another co-worker described this particular women).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-3246149949844747328?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/3246149949844747328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/06/10-pound-bag-of-hit-in-5-pound-bag.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3246149949844747328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3246149949844747328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/06/10-pound-bag-of-hit-in-5-pound-bag.html' title='10 Pound Bag of $hit in a 5 Pound Bag'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-7193101270862797032</id><published>2011-03-21T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T17:03:55.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex In the Fitting Rooms</title><content type='html'>In the mid-west we have a super grocer known as Meijer. Visitors usually compare Meijer to Walmart, they both sell clothing, food, housewares, ikea-style furniture, liquor and just about anything under the sun. However, Meijer is owned by the farmers of the mid-west which makes it more of a local favorite. Usually in the middle of the store, there are fitting rooms which allow people to try on the cheap clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Two friends of mine, used to have sex in the fitting rooms at Meijer," one of my 20-something co-workers stated, "They would make a game of it. They really enjoyed doing it, kind of like a joke."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well what would they do when they got caught?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I guess the only thing you can do, zip up and leave laughing. They did it a lot, and usually until they got caught," he answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did they at least do it at night when there were fewer people and no kids around?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea probably, they were old enough. They were not teenagers either." He said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should mention Meijer is an open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week establishment. Having been there many times at midnight or later, it does not surprise me that a couple could get away with having sex in the fitting rooms during the late evening early morning hours. With reduced staff and limited video surveillance in the fitting rooms, I can see why fitting rooms may be a tempting place to get it on. What strikes me as odd, was the couple was in their 20s and most likely had apartments or homes of their own to be doing that sort of thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-7193101270862797032?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/7193101270862797032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/sex-in-fitting-rooms.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7193101270862797032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/7193101270862797032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/sex-in-fitting-rooms.html' title='Sex In the Fitting Rooms'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-1102836322757873454</id><published>2011-03-13T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T16:30:44.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Party-Time!</title><content type='html'>This past weekend I visited my sister. Since she is still in college, we did the customary visiting college tradition and attended a party. I met many people but one 20-something male's introductory story stuck out to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So tell my sister about when you had sex behind the vending machines at the union!" said my sister to a guy that was talking to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok so I was at the student union and this group of girls came up to me. They were drunk and this one girl was like 'Hey come on.' I do not think she planned on it getting that far, we were like making out and stuff and one thing lead to another, and yea," he said laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow!" I said, "How did you get behind some vending machines? They are usually pretty close to the wall," I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well yea, they are. But when we got back there, a few of them were angled so there was room. We did it standing up, there was not room to like lay down or anything," He answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will probably never see this kid again, nor do I remember his name. However, this was my first impression of him. An individual only gets one shot at a first impression, so should I ever meet him again he will always be the kid who sex behind the vending machines at the student union. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize there is a post on this blog very similar to this from one of my 20-something male co-workers of the past. I mentioned the incidence with my co-worker to the kid. He laughed, and said he knew other people with similar stories. Since I have never seen a comment on this blog, maybe some one could post a comment about participating or knew of some one participating in an incident like these. You can do it anonymously or use a fake name and email-and you do not have to be specific. Essentially I am just looking for numbers for here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-1102836322757873454?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/1102836322757873454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/party-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1102836322757873454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1102836322757873454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/party-time.html' title='Party-Time!'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-3094850024909761361</id><published>2011-03-07T22:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T09:00:44.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Used Undergarments</title><content type='html'>"Dude [generic male name] is such a messed up f*ck," said a 20-something male friend of mine over drinks. "You know how his girlfriend had a boob job?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea I remember," I answered. I generally do not approve of breast enhancement surgery, and in a way, the surgery came back to bite her. "She is still paying it off and doesn't have such a great job, so I know the payments have been difficult on her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea they have been. She asked him to pay some of the payments at one point, but I don't know if I believe that. Anyway, I guess she gave him some of her old bras, the small ones. She went from like an A or B cup to a D cup and she gave him the old ones. One day when I was hanging out with the weirdo he was like 'Hey do want some of her old bras? She gave me the old ones after she had her boob job.'" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have got to be kidding me, he wanted to give you his girlfriends old bras?" I exclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't, don't worried. But that just goes to show how nuts he can be sometimes. I don't even know if he was drunk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Were they still together or had they broken up?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope, they were definitely still together." He answered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every once and while you hear about celebrity underwear going up for sale on the internet. Sometimes they claim the money is going to charity, but usually it is for attention. I would like to think the person that got ahold of the celebrity undergarments is either the celebrity, a manager or advisor with permission to do so, or a stalker. Any of these sound better than a significant other giving away what might be a kinky romantic gift for no real reason. Maybe this is a betrayal of trust, but mostly it just plain weird. Not that giving away used braziers is not odd, but to have your serious boyfriend want to give it away to a friend is wrong on so many levels. The suggestion was not even made out of spite after a break up, which makes the whole situation even more bizarre.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-3094850024909761361?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/3094850024909761361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/used-undergarments.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3094850024909761361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3094850024909761361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/used-undergarments.html' title='Used Undergarments'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-8741142803539683956</id><published>2011-03-05T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T08:15:13.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Body Dysmorphia and Other Rumors</title><content type='html'>As a barely 20-something Sales Representative, I had the pleasure of working with a great number of 20-something and late 20-something Sales Representatives. One of the late 20-something Sale Representatives I worked with enjoyed dating 18 and 19 year old girls. I could sit here and preach about the maturity differences, about the possibility of taking advantage of younger women, and the disconnect that can occur but most people already know about these issues. This particular 20-something co-worker physically LOOKED more like a 40-something while in his late 20s, so the constant courting of younger women made him even less appealing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She is younger than ME, what are you doing dating her?" I asked my 20-something male co-worker as his most recent fling wandered off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever, you're just jealous," he said with wink, "She's cool we will hang out. I am thinking about taking her on a birthday lunch date or something because I am going out with the other girl later that night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well you're going to have make sure you can sign her out school, then again they might believe you are her father," I joked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 20-something male co-worker did not like this joke. He had no problem making fun of other people but whenever anyone alluded to him looking 15 years older than he was because of hair loss and premature wrinkles he got angry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you ever make fun of my hair line again!" He said and stormed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later another co-worker showed up and questioned his absence. I explained to her what had taken place with the barely legal girl, him messing around on the side, and a crack about his appearance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think he has reverse body dysmorphia, you know?" She laughed, "He thinks he is like Ryan Reynolds or somebody but neither of us find him attractive and he tends to date skanks, or girls that are close to underage."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Or both!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-8741142803539683956?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/8741142803539683956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/body-dysmorphia-and-other-rumors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/8741142803539683956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/8741142803539683956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/body-dysmorphia-and-other-rumors.html' title='Body Dysmorphia and Other Rumors'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6934337818307834932</id><published>2011-03-01T00:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T07:44:07.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT Another College Girl Cont.</title><content type='html'>My 20-something co-worker showed up to work the day after meeting up with a girl he was trying to at least sleep with, or possibly have a relationship with, in a fowl mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So how did it go with the reporter?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You were right, she did bring her boyfriend," he answered monotonously, "He is such a douche bag. I had the worst night just sitting there with her and her boyfriend and a group of people I don't even know. She really isn't even one of &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;my&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; friends!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why did you even bother to stick around? If she was there with her boyfriend why didn't you just leave?" I asked attempting to show he may have been even a more douche bag for attempting to fool around with another guy's girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because we ended up making out when he went outside to smoke for a while and talk on his phone," boasted my 20-something co-worker, "We were both drunk, I invited her to my party, but I hope she does bring her boyfriend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not think my 20-something co-worker ever managed to bag this broad. About a year later I saw her out with the same boyfriend she claimed she was going to dump soon, so I guess they never broke up either. I suppose this little incident was just a teporary lapse in judgement on all of their parts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6934337818307834932?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6934337818307834932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/not-another-college-girl-cont.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6934337818307834932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6934337818307834932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/03/not-another-college-girl-cont.html' title='NOT Another College Girl Cont.'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6349735634942663251</id><published>2011-02-28T01:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T01:25:58.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT Another College Girl</title><content type='html'>One of my 20-something co-workers frequently complained about the girls that lived in our town. Yes this was a blanket statement, but in a way I agreed with him. We lived in a college town and there were very few job opportunities upon graduation. Because of these combined factors, many of the young women in the town were college girls. As a professional Sales Representative, my co-worker deemed most college girls ineligible of his time because of a "maturity" factor. On occasion, he did manage to meet a young professional of the opposite sex that was worthy of his time.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So she's not in school? What does she do around here? Is she a townie?" I asked my 20-something co-worker after finding out he was interested in some one as more than a sex-buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She works at the newspaper," he responded, "But she also has a boyfriend.....I think they will break up soon he's a total douche."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh ok, I don't think its a very good idea to start hanging around some one with a boyfriend. If she wanted to break up with him, she would have," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No really he's a jerk. He was at some country last summer and ran this golf cart into the lake but didn't tell his dad until he got the bill like at the end of the year. Then his dad saw the like $15,000 charge. Anyway I'm going to hang out with her tonight," stated my 20-something co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well do what you want, but I bet she brings her boyfriend to the bar," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up being right. She brought her boyfriend to the bar and my 20-something co-worker was miserable, except when they broke away from her boyfriend to make out for a while.....but that's another post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6349735634942663251?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6349735634942663251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/not-another-college-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6349735634942663251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6349735634942663251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/not-another-college-girl.html' title='NOT Another College Girl'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-5196673114711667409</id><published>2011-02-24T23:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T00:13:54.065-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Girl Discount and Perks</title><content type='html'>A few years ago I started my first sales job, as a Sales Representative for one of the big four cellphone companies. One of my co-workers, who has been mentioned on here before, was a particularly adept representative when it came to helping out attractive female customers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you so much for giving me your old phone," chirped an attractive brunette, "I do not know what I would have done."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're welcome, I mean I wasn't going to use it any more anyway. It doesn't work so well sometimes so if you have any questions or have any problems with it just give me a call," said my 20-something male co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok I will," the girl answered smiling," I think I should probably get a case or something for this phone, do you guys do student discounts here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't offer discounts on accessories, unless it was for a business account. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure we do, its 25% off," answered my 20-something male co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the transaction was completed I looked to another co-worker to ask about students discounts. She assured me we only gave discounts on business accounts, but told me our 20-something male co-worker had his own version of a discount plan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I call it the hot girl discount and perks card. If you're a hot girl with no ring on your finger-you can get a discount on almost anything if you talk to the right person here," she replied knowing exactly who I was talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years I worked with this 20-something male co-worker I realized how true this was. Although it was not against policy to give student discounts, and we were allotted a small amount of money to "play with" each month, it was mostly attractive girls that were given the advantage with this particular representative. Giving his phone away did eventually come back to bite him when he had one phone stollen and another doused in beer at the bar, but he is still a top performing rep at this company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;www.futurederm.com is giving away a $100 virtual gift card for nomorerack.com! Cruise over there for some great skincare and beauty advice and a chance to win!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-5196673114711667409?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/5196673114711667409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/hot-girl-discount-and-perks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5196673114711667409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5196673114711667409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/hot-girl-discount-and-perks.html' title='Hot Girl Discount and Perks'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-1441894343773331269</id><published>2011-02-05T05:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T06:01:21.838-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We're Not in the USA Anymore.....</title><content type='html'>"So, explain to me again why your dad lives in Venezuela of all places?" I asked one of my half-Caucasian, half-Jewish co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Theres a few reasons, he does not want to pay alimony to his nine ex-wives," explained my co-worker, "the first time he went down this little sixteen year old sat in his lap and never left-she was a hot a little thing, but mostly we both like to party."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Party like how?" I joked thinking the answer involved any number of elicit substances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm telling you I do not know how many broads I banged down there. I seriously lost track," stated my co-worker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh......I know Venezuela is not exactly the third world but......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea I know where you going with this, when I got back I was paranoid about AIDS, and other stuff. I had my doctor test me everything. I'm clean," he said with a wink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand it takes two to tango, but there are just so many issues I have with this conversation. I suppose there are cultural differences that permit the courting of 16-year old girl. Many South and Latin Americans are married by the age of 16 or 15, but the fact that he rushed into yet another after having nine ex-wives seems like it could have been another disaster. As for my co-worker who did nothing but screw around for four months, I am glad he thought about condoms after the fact.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-1441894343773331269?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/1441894343773331269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/were-not-in-usa-anymore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1441894343773331269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1441894343773331269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/were-not-in-usa-anymore.html' title='We&apos;re Not in the USA Anymore.....'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-94552209019014938</id><published>2011-02-04T03:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T04:01:39.027-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys With Tattoos</title><content type='html'>"Do you like guys with tattoos,"  one of my 20-something male workers asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking around the room at quite a few of the heavily tattooed men, I knew only one answer would please him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do YOU?" I asked in an attempt to deflect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude I am so sick of you asking every chick we meet that question," retorted one of the other 20-something males, "Last night this ass hole asked this bartender who weighed about the three of combined that question!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, did she?" I laughed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude I do not even care she was so f*ing fat and had as many tattoos as me. This douche bag gave her my number now I've got a fat chick on my back. If her fat ass shows up here you gotta pretend like your my girl," he pleaded with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I do not play these games, but harassment by some one you are not interested in not funny. "I can't get into a fight with a fat chick," a said "But you guys do feed me every night when I show up so I'll go with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A recent study in Men's World showed that as much as thirty percent of men would break up with their wife or girl friend if they put on more than 15 to 20 pounds. Only seven percent of women said they would do the same. Perhaps the bartender had an a terrible personality, or he was just not interested but I am guessing her weight shadowed any connection he might have had.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-94552209019014938?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/94552209019014938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/guys-with-tattoos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/94552209019014938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/94552209019014938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/02/guys-with-tattoos.html' title='Guys With Tattoos'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-5131359021716786978</id><published>2011-01-13T18:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-13T18:25:21.046-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another day at the......"office"</title><content type='html'>In my line of work, many of the men are divorced. Even more of them are separated. Still some of the men (and I say men because I am the only female) have no relationship ties. While we are on site, away from our homes many of them seek out companionship. Because of the 12 hour plus days, finding some one to take out to dinner is difficult. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the guys on the site met a young women that works at a gas station. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She sent me some pictures," said one of my co-workers, "But they are a little racy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do I want to look at them?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well she said she used to pose as a nude model. I think she may have done porn or something like that too." He responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reluctantly I looked at the pictures, figuring it was nothing I hadn't seen myself. The majority of the pictures had a girl that weighed maybe 90 lbs with no clothes. She covered her self with various objects, but it left little to the imagination. Keep in mind, he had met this girl once and spoke on the phone with her maybe three times. I suppose texting (or sexting) is the new phone call, but even a few exchanges of texts do not give you the opportunity to really get to know a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude you had better wrap when you sleep with that girl," said one of my co-worker, "like really? You've talked to her four times and met twice and she is sending you nudie picks? Cover yourself in latex dude."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least these guys know to practice safe sex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-5131359021716786978?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/5131359021716786978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-day-at-theoffice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5131359021716786978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5131359021716786978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-day-at-theoffice.html' title='Another day at the......&quot;office&quot;'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6798035566723245678</id><published>2011-01-05T23:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T00:00:21.341-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead Fish</title><content type='html'>I few years ago I had a heart to heart conversation with one of my fellow 20-somethings. He began to express remorse for a girl he once dated, but had since broken up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She was the one that got away," said my male 20-something companion, "I miss her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well why don't you call her and try to get back together or something?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would but there were some things about her that bothered me. Like when were having sex she would just lie there, it was like making love to a dead fish. Then this one time after we got done she was like 'Wow I hope I don't get pregnant, I'm not on the pill anymore.' Like, why didn't she say something so I would wear a condom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shouldn't you just do that?  Why does she have to be the only responsible one?" I retorted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever I just don't want a kid. I can't pay for it, and I would have had to pay for her to get an abortion. I Just don't want a kid to turn out like me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That would be a bit much to handle," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raising a child is never easy, and having to raise a child while in college would be difficult. But there are just so many statements I do not agree with. Getting back together with a girl or staying single should not depend on how she is in bed. Judging her in an incident where she was probably drunk is even more disappointing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, why should it be the sole responsibility of a women to obtain birth control? There are other risks involved when having unprotected sex (we all know about proper condom use), but I cannot wait until the male birth control pill on the market. Have fun with that guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6798035566723245678?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6798035566723245678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/01/dead-fish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6798035566723245678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6798035566723245678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2011/01/dead-fish.html' title='Dead Fish'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-4449127355679852815</id><published>2010-12-31T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T22:38:03.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Girls Who Used To _________ For Drugs</title><content type='html'>One of my 20-something co-workers of the past had quite the life story for being a 20-something. He battled a drug problem, did time, ran away, had multiple arrests, and had a gambling problem. At one point in his life, he lived with his drug dealer friend (now some one he kept in touch with on FaceSpace) and had all sorts of adventures along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When I lived with him he would have these girls just suck our dicks all the time," said my 20-something co-worker, "and they would do it all the time. They like really needed their blow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't understand why they would suck your dick," I said, "you weren't selling drugs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea but he was just awesome like that. We looked out for each other and helped each other out. These girls were so trashy though, half the time they weren't even good at sucking dick. But we still gave them their blow anyway."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Its good that you payed them for their services," I responded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In the "Don't Do Drugs" seminars, students are always told about the dangers of drugs and how they can lead people to participate in activities they normally would not. Each one of these girls is some one's daughter, and who knows where else their mouth's had been. I honestly hope each of these girls got clean and were able to stop being whores, but it is not just their choice. It takes two to tango. With a little sensitivity the guys (my 20-something co-worker included) could have prevented all this from happening and left these girls and himself some dignity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-4449127355679852815?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/4449127355679852815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/12/girls-who-used-to-for-drugs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/4449127355679852815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/4449127355679852815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/12/girls-who-used-to-for-drugs.html' title='The Girls Who Used To _________ For Drugs'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-1019097878484791502</id><published>2010-12-19T19:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T19:47:23.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not 20, 30 but 40-something This Time!</title><content type='html'>Although this blog has always focused on the my galavanting 20-something co-workers, the following is a story of a 40-something co-worker of mine. I had not seen him in almost three months, I knew a lot could happen in three months but I did not expect this;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So basically I have not lived in the house for about six weeks," said my 40-something co-worker, "I met [generic female name] a little less than two months ago on the internet and I moved right in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents tend to worry about this very thing happen to their children, mainly teenagers, and especially vulnerable teenage girls. I should mention at this point that my 40-something co-worker has two teenage daughters, 14 and 17 years old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm flying my girls out at Christmas to meet her. I'm telling you this is the best relationship of my life, we except each other for who we are and do not try to change one another."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well that is awesome I am glad to hear it," I responded. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although this may sound like I am commenting on his parenting, I am trying to comment on the issues of adults. Generally adults do have better judgement than teenagers, but it does not change the fact that moving in with some one you had known for less than two weeks does not give you a lot of time to get to know some one. Not only has my 40-something co-worker been through a divorce, but less than six months ago he broke up a girlfriend that his daughters were living with while he was working out of state. To jump from relationship to relationship, and bed to bed is usually something I complain about 20-somethings doing, but I guess it does not end in your 20s.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-1019097878484791502?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/1019097878484791502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/12/not-20-30-but-40-something-this-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1019097878484791502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1019097878484791502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/12/not-20-30-but-40-something-this-time.html' title='Not 20, 30 but 40-something This Time!'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-2653909916399530309</id><published>2010-09-24T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T11:11:10.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Thought People Grow Up.......</title><content type='html'>The following story involves people I went to high school with. I am not on face-space or mybook, so I have not stayed in contact with really anyone I went to high school with. After five years I reconnected with an old friend, and got updates on some people I went to high school with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How did YOU here about this?" Asked one of my 20-something friends, in reference to another 20-something pseudo-friend who slept with a 3rd 20-something's girlfriend while they were still together. "Nick just found about his girlfriend and best friend sleeping together this last week!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know," I answered, "I really only talk to one person around here anymore, so I'm sure thats who I heard it from."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea, but he but who did he hear it from?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Probably straight from the horses mouth, he has a big mouth," I replied. "Jeez, I thought he would have grown up, or at least changed a little a college. This is so typical of him-he's a fat ass now you know, he's not hot at all!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He still thinks he's got it though," said my 20-something friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I expected too much, after all, I have been working with 20-somethings for a while now and none of them are any different. Growing up is a relative, but beginning to think about relationships and friendships over sex is something that should be a priority........you don't want to piss off the wrong person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-2653909916399530309?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/2653909916399530309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-thought-people-grow-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2653909916399530309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2653909916399530309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-thought-people-grow-up.html' title='I Thought People Grow Up.......'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-1492049553774455693</id><published>2010-06-01T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T10:10:21.502-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='girls talking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crazy Sex'/><title type='text'>Crazy Sex</title><content type='html'>"Hey, heads up on your left," I said to one of my 20-something male co-workers as the girl he had been screwing around with approached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks," he said dreading the meaningless conversation that was about to take place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With in ten seconds of the young women's arrival he gave me the signal to call the store and pretend a customer of his needed help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you doing still messing around with her? She's annoying and kind of slutty, plus you don't even like her," I asked as soon as she was out of ear shot, "Thats what all college guys do. They just screw around with the easiest thing when they are bored."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea she's annoying, but the sex is really good, like CRAZY good," stated my 20-something co-worker, "And guys screwing around isn't any better than what girls do, all they want is to talk and talk and talk to death."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose my 20-something co-worker had a point, maybe all girls want to do to is talk, but this is usually to feel a connection with some one. In this case my co-worker had absolutely no connection with the girl he was screwing. William Petersen once said "Sex with out love makes us animals, love and sex is what humanizes," (or something to that extent) I have no better evidence of men being animals than conversations like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-1492049553774455693?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/1492049553774455693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/06/crazy-sex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1492049553774455693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/1492049553774455693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/06/crazy-sex.html' title='Crazy Sex'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6744995275342121995</id><published>2010-05-31T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T00:18:22.148-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inexcusable actions'/><title type='text'>Random Phone Call</title><content type='html'>"Who was that?" I asked one of my 20-something male co-workers as he hung up the phone with a confused look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This dude I haven't talked to in like three years," replied my 20-something male co-worker,"I can't believe he is getting married. Back in the day he was a total douche, he did some crazy awful shit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Like what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well you are going to be really offended by some of it, but he was like getting to twenty and he was still a virgin so he wanted to lose it so bad. So he'd be like fingering a girl, and then do it with his thumb and then just sort of stick it in," said my 20-something male co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my God," I said shocked, "Weren't they like pissed? How the hell did he get away with that?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea a few were, one was really mad but he would play it off like 'Hey baby I thought this was what you wanted...' you know that sort of thing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most things my 20-something male co-workers did not phase me, but to essentially rape a girl and not consider it a big deal is completely inexcusable. I truly hope that one of those girls tried to file charges against him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Memorial Day! Thank you to all our men and women over seas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6744995275342121995?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6744995275342121995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/05/random-phone-call.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6744995275342121995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6744995275342121995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/05/random-phone-call.html' title='Random Phone Call'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-2977882732029684192</id><published>2010-05-30T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T16:03:45.059-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='collge bar'/><title type='text'>Hiatus</title><content type='html'>"This one," said one of my former 20-something co-workers, "was a freak back when she was skinny, she had a real jackass boyfriend that screwed her over and she's fat. Anyway, we were at a Halloween party at [GENERIC COLLEGE BAR] when I ran into her and was like 'Hey come on'......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me get this straight, did you just meet her then or did you know her before?" I interrupted for clarification.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No I met her a few times before," continued my former 20-Something co-worker, "I grabbed her and took her between two video game machines and we made it happen. It was tough too even though she was skinny back then, because her friends were running around the bar looking for her. I kept hearing them call her name but I really wanted her to finish!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, that was very considerate of you," I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the delay in posts, I shall try to post at a continuous pace!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-2977882732029684192?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/2977882732029684192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/05/hiatus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2977882732029684192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2977882732029684192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/05/hiatus.html' title='Hiatus'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6326008095989610985</id><published>2010-02-25T16:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T16:54:30.585-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gossip'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='locker room'/><title type='text'>Locker Room Gossip</title><content type='html'>The purpose of this blog has always been to focus on the sky-larkings of 20-something males, so today I am going to change the pace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lap swimming today, I heard a group of middle aged women talking about their partners' past partners, the conversation went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It didn't work out with this women because she had a gastric bipass and was really sensitive about it, so when they were doing it she would want to keep her shirt on. Well, with Dave it's an all-or nothing-thing, he likes women with a good self-esteem." One of the middle-aged women said to her middle-aged friend in a not so private conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Then there was this other 'mystery women' she has had hundreds of sexual partners and brags about it, she is nuts. She got knocked up by a gay guy, in a three-way. I guess he was more interested in the guy in the three way, but he went for custody of the kid, she ended up getting to keep it because of all the money she kept in the divorce, and yea the 'mystery women' ended up being his ex-wife, he was still sleeping with her." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think a saw that in a movie once," joked one of the other middle-aged women with her friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I need to over-hear conversations like this so I am reminded that both men and women gossip about personal issues. I suppose I should not be offended about the conversation either because I hear this sort of thing frequently from their male counter-parts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6326008095989610985?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6326008095989610985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/02/locker-room-gossip.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6326008095989610985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6326008095989610985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/02/locker-room-gossip.html' title='Locker Room Gossip'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-9146445083110114266</id><published>2010-02-11T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T13:25:45.541-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cafeteria Conversations</title><content type='html'>While sitting in the cafeteria at my college today, I eavesdropped on two (and eventually three) 20-something male college students. I made note of this conversation because of the assumption and stereotype that it is mostly girls that sit around and "gossip." After working in a male dominated field for nearly four years, and earning a degree in a predominately male profession I have come to understand that in many ways, men "gossip" more then their female counterparts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I just think she wants to be friends with him because they are both like 'outsiders.' Although all of us are different in our writing and poems, they are really outsiders, sometimes I don't think they are like as deep as the rest of us." Said one 20-something college kid to his friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've never really met her, I guess she might be smart but she seems really......I don't know young or naive?" Said the second 20-something college student.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea I guess what happens, happens with that." Said the the first 20-something college student. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, 20-something college student two decided to read some sort of short story or 'new age' poem to his friend. Upon finishing he stated:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"At this point in my writing I just feel like, I can't go any further. I need to get out of the box and go to Canada or something so I can write more, from personal experience."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Based on the limited conversation I eavesdropped on, both these young men seemed to regard themselves as more "deep" or spiritual, at the very least different from the other bee- bonging college guys in the room. In reality, they were no better and certainly not different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-9146445083110114266?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/9146445083110114266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/02/cafeteria-conversations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/9146445083110114266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/9146445083110114266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/02/cafeteria-conversations.html' title='Cafeteria Conversations'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-3549552559388468660</id><published>2010-02-07T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T09:51:39.494-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holiday'/><title type='text'>Valentines Day 2000-something</title><content type='html'>"It sucks that the only of us with a significant-other has to work on Valentines Day," I commented to one of my 20-something male co-workers hinting that he could for once a be a good person and switch shifts with her, "I would switch with her but I have to work then too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There were like three girls I wanted to take out on Valentine's Day," answered my 20-something steroid pumping male co-worker, "I'll probably do a lunch date with one of them. And then at night, I'll do the good-guy thing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The 'good guy thing?'" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea it's where you take one girl to an early dinner, the girl thats nice and not slutty that you wouldn't get any action from anyway, and say something like 'Well you should get to sleep' or 'I'm not ready to move that fast.' But then you take the slutty one out for a dinner, or a drink later in the evening. That way, the nice girl thinks you're still nice, and you still get some action." My 20-something co-worker explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Valentine's Day to all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-3549552559388468660?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/3549552559388468660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines-day-2000-something.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3549552559388468660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/3549552559388468660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/02/valentines-day-2000-something.html' title='Valentines Day 2000-something'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-906142146799454342</id><published>2010-01-16T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T15:16:47.755-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduation Day</title><content type='html'>"I should not be doing this...." one of my 20-something co-workers said as he texted a girl that was not the girlfriend he lived with. "I just feel like messing with her, she graduated today you know, I think she likes hearing from me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sure she does." I answered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This 20-something co-worker constantly "messes with girls," not necessarily physically but emotionally. Text messages and phone calls to girls that are not his girlfriend are very common. His girlfriend is also insecure about the relationship, he constantly complains about her endless questions that are no doubt part of her insecurities. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About once a week he also talks about breaking up with her, but since they live together and she pays most of the rent, that isn't an option. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the delay in posts, I would like to continue updates as normal now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-906142146799454342?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/906142146799454342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/01/graduation-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/906142146799454342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/906142146799454342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2010/01/graduation-day.html' title='Graduation Day'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-6922530718636894990</id><published>2009-12-11T16:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T23:02:31.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Years Eve, 2000 something</title><content type='html'>"Have I ever told you the story about this girl?" One of my 20-something co-workers asked pointing at one of the girls on face-space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nope," I answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well see, she always would like give me blow jobs. Just out of nowhere she would give me blow jobs. So, I was at New Years and I was drunk and she was like 'hey come in the bedroom with me' so I went with her. Then she gave me a blow job." My 20-something co-worker told me while flipping through her my-face page. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But when we were done, she went and told my girlfriend 'hey, I just gave Brian head' I was so pissed at her. My girlfriend like broke up with me right then and there, and like I really liked that girlfriend, a lot...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet another wonderful story from a 20-something male co-worker. You're at a party, with your girlfriend, DRUNK and you decide to go into a deserted bedroom accompanied by a girl that has a sexual history with you, what do you expect to happen? I also have to congratulate his now ex-girlfriend for doing the right thing and breaking up with him right away. Too many girls would have let that slide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-6922530718636894990?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/6922530718636894990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-years-eve-2000-something.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6922530718636894990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/6922530718636894990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-years-eve-2000-something.html' title='New Years Eve, 2000 something'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-2681216750268591786</id><published>2009-12-08T07:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T08:02:31.637-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Library</title><content type='html'>This conversation took place not between a 20-something co-worker and myself, but a 20-something classmate and myself. In my opinion, it's the same difference. At this point I should tell you that I am still in college, and my course of study is heavily male dominated. In my department there are about 60 males, and 9 female undergraduate students. With that said, most of my time is spent around males while studying for exams, and doing projects due to the lack of estrogen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While studying for a final, one of my 20-something male classmates abruptly left the group. Upon his return, he gave an explanation to excuse his sudden departure that went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry I had to get this girls phone number."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you know her?" another 20-something classmate asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yea, I like met her before, but I always forgot to get her number."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, so are you trying to get with her then?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure, why not? She's pretty I guess, it shouldn't be that hard."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note I left the study session. I had to meet with another study group, but conversations among the guys in my department are usually the same. Because of the lack of female presence, they frequently disregard or simply forget to change their tones when a chick is around. Thanks guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-2681216750268591786?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/2681216750268591786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/library.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2681216750268591786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/2681216750268591786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/library.html' title='The Library'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-8248332379164983971</id><published>2009-12-07T12:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T13:12:00.708-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair Ties</title><content type='html'>For over a year I worked with one of my 20-something co-workers, and nearly every day he wore a hair tie on wrist. Never was his hair longer than half an inch, and yet, he still had a hair tie readily available at all times. One day, some one asked him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dude, why do you always have a hair tie on your wrist? Its not like you need it ever!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which my 20-something co-worker replied:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dude, the worst thing is when you’re getting into, or have gotten into and a chick is like ‘hang on I need to get a hair tie.’ I’ve had it happen to me enough so now I’m just like ‘GOT IT!’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interesting, huh? A 20-something male can remember to always have a hair tie on his wrist, (and probably a condom in his wallet) in case he gets lucky, but can’t remember the answer to question number three on his finance exam even though he thought he just studied it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note he also said “happened to me ENOUGH.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have said before, this isn’t an analysis of the 20-something male psyche, but just a compilation of some of the conversation that have lead me to have a preference of 30-somethings than 20-somethings. With that said, how many times is enough for a 20-something male?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-8248332379164983971?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/8248332379164983971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/hair-ties.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/8248332379164983971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/8248332379164983971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/hair-ties.html' title='Hair Ties'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-5991267775346724120</id><published>2009-12-06T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T13:15:40.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Morning After the Strip Club</title><content type='html'>"&lt;em&gt;This bitch won't leave.....it's almost 11"&lt;/em&gt; a friend of one of my 20-something co-workers 'facebook' messaged him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Did you fuck her?" &lt;/em&gt;My 20-something co-worker asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I'm not a fool, I wrapped my tool, you have to with strippers."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night before my 20-something co-worker went to the strip club with a couple of his friends. One of his friends ended up taking one of the strippers home that night. Unfortunately she didn't have a friend for my 20-something co-worker who had to go home to his live-in girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dude you should have seen me last night. I was wasted, I had like $400 but now I've only got like $10. I got so many dances. This one girl came up and just started playing with herself like right in my face, so I was like 'here'," my 20-something co-worker wiggling his middle finger up above his other four fingers. "Some of them were cool and let me, but some of them were like 'noo can't do that theres cameras..." but most let me touch them anyway. I've touched so many strippers ginas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nice." I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This 20-something co-worker frequently talks to me about his previous evenings activities. Usually who he went out with, who he almost picked up, and sometimes who he hooked up with.&lt;br /&gt;Even though he had a live-in girlfriend, it didn't prevent him from attempting to pick up girls, and living like he didn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-5991267775346724120?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/5991267775346724120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/morning-after-strip-club.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5991267775346724120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5991267775346724120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/morning-after-strip-club.html' title='The Morning After the Strip Club'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484926791912046574.post-5714771065340461436</id><published>2009-12-05T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T11:05:25.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My 20-Somethings of the Past</title><content type='html'>"She just said, 'don't let it be another two and half years before I hear from you again,'" my 20 something co-worker said in a not so private conversation to another 20-something co-worker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the time I over-heard my co-worker talking about a relationship he had with a girl the night before, I was not a 20 something. I was not surprised when I heard this statement either. For almost six months I had listened to the sexcapades of my 20-something male co-workers. Niether one of them were terribly attractive, and one looked closer to a 40-something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal in writing this blog is not to constantly rip-on and degrade the 20 somethings, its to make people understand a preference for dating 30-somethings. So please don't be offended, and enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5484926791912046574-5714771065340461436?l=my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/feeds/5714771065340461436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-20-somethings-of-past.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5714771065340461436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5484926791912046574/posts/default/5714771065340461436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://my20somethingcoworkers.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-20-somethings-of-past.html' title='My 20-Somethings of the Past'/><author><name>Kay</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03896302881450830608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnPfAvhMSUI/S3R4apnU9xI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWbkWXQOOz0/S220/CanaryStance.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
