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	<title>Breed &#039;Em And Weep</title>
	<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com</link>
	<description>Making whiplash sexy.</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Thu, 11 Mar 2010 18:45:37 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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	<item>
		<title>6 going on 2 going on life</title>
		<description><![CDATA[My dearest Hattie Belle,
These are difficult times for you and me. I know it&#8217;s hard to be six. I wish you knew how hard it is to be 39, with two daughters you love more than you love yourself.
But you: You tell me that you are never getting married, and that you are going to [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/6-going-on-2-going-on-life</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Unsure</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Unsure what to say, to you, to anyone. My beloved Nina dog is dying. Only she knows if she is dying slowly or not. She is now almost completely blind, or at least that&#8217;s what the vet thinks, and is how it seems to be. She has an open sore on her graying face that [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/unsure</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Simply</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Sophie, tonight: &#8220;I&#8217;m so glad I&#8217;m your daughter. I just feel like we have a really special bond.&#8221;
Some women live lives hoping to hear that sort of beauty, and there it was, pressed gently into my hands and heart by a beautiful eight-year-old girl who makes me believe there must, there must be a God. [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/simply</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Try</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Try freeing the weight of yourself
from a meat hook, is how it feels
today. I ask the gods (demoted to
plural, lowercase g) why they
ever allowed me uncomplications,
lightness of being, carbohydrates.
There are not enough pails to hold
the saltwater. One perfect day in
a country across the sea, and the
gods smile and wait at home for me,
poised with their [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/try</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>when i think about the Olympics i tweet myself</title>
		<description><![CDATA[<strong>mommyjenny</strong> I think I just saw a mountie blowup doll hump one of the beavers #bleachmybrain
20 seconds ago via web]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/when-i-think-about-the-olympics-i-tweet-myself</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>a little bit</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Do all moms hate themselves a little bit
is what she asks me. She has heard me
arguing with my own mother, and I have
said, Yes, I know, my life sucks, thank you
(voices like bones scraping bones clean)
You said a bad word about your life,
is what she says. It is true, I have. One night
later and they [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/a-little-bit</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>The writers&#8217; group</title>
		<description><![CDATA[She is a stranger more strange than anyone in the land she is in, and she wonders if they sense this, if they will ball their fists and gently have her sniff before taking their seats.

She is flummoxed and exasperated already, with herself, as she surveys the calm faces of the writers' group, filing in to Gayle's oddly sparse, yet oddly cozy living room. A sitting room? A setting room? What room is this? Where is she? Where is she, ever, anymore?]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/the-writers-group</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Ziggy</title>
		<description><![CDATA[When my parents divorced after 26 loooong years of marriage, they made the necessary phone calls to me and my brother. I was at graduate school in Westchester County, NY—living in a crap apartment, alone. I remember getting The Call from my dad, and listening politely as he went through his version of the events. 

I just listened. I may have eaten some chips. ]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/ziggy</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>LinkedOut! Back to &#8220;Big Butt&#8221; for me?</title>
		<description><![CDATA[So in my continuing quest to upgrade the slime trail of my career to a slightly more 3D installation—maybe a lumpy sludge trail—I joined LinkedIn, the Facebook for "professionals."

As a longtime freelance writer who's taken on more random assignments than a windshield takes on bug species, let me just be clear: it ain't no easy feat to list what you've done as a freelancer and make yourself sound remotely stable or solid, no matter how talented you are. Because you wind up filling in the "How long did you work at this position?" boxes by going, <em>Er, let's see, that article took me a month to write, so, January 2004 to February 2004? And that one, that was a two-week gig, so....</em>

Which, of course, is exactly what employers are dying to see. "Here's our shining star! Look at the way she lurched from gig to gig like a one-legged drunk on a pub crawl!"]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/linkedout-back-to-big-butt-for-me</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Sex me up, Pa Ingalls</title>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://www.workitmom.com/bloggers/singlemomatwork/2010/02/08/sex-me-up-pa-ingalls/">Sex me up, Pa Ingalls</a>: my new post at Work It, Mom! Single Mom at Work. 

File under "ULO": Unexplainable Lust Objects.]]></description>
		<link>http://www.breedemandweep.com/sex-me-up-pa-ingalls</link>
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