One of my own 'deadly' sins
933061
This book had me hooked from the beginning.  Reading the entire series has become one of my 'deadly sins'!  So smart and funny.  Love the heroine!
4119249
In the beginning, things were going awesome. I was havin' a fun time, my controller and I, playing gh2 like no one else's business. However, once I got to the song I've been waiting for to play, "Carry On My Wayward Son", my poor poor yellowing, peeled sticker infested, used controller they have provided me with started buggin' out. It was registering that i was holdin' down the red button, when i had my whole hand off of the neck of the controller. I continued to play with this, and it seemed that it was just the picture on the TV was glitching or something, because all the other notes hit fine.

BUT THEN.

As I was getting to a very heated moment of the song, all the buttons would just stop working-although not entirely.
What I mean is, when I would hit blue, green would register as being hit. If I were to hit orange, yellow would register of being hit. Now know this, this is not some lefty nonsense, because this happened in the middle of the song out of nowhere, and for lefty flip to even be a possibility, when i hit blue, it would've registered as red, NOT green.

As confusing as it sounds, lemme give you a small summary of what I just said;

I came out to have a good time and honestly I'm feeling so attacked right now. With the seller's controller. Who robbed me of my money. When all I wanted to do was wear a Stan Marsh hat and jam.

IN CONCLUSION.

Don't get it. my controller was shet.
3032254
There are certain things that I learned from this CD.
Myss makes points like If you believe in Karma then children aren't innocent. This came after a story about how a father asked how an innocent child could have a serious disease.
A "bad" word in the English language is "deserve" such as "They deserve good things" or "She deserved to have [bad thing] happen to her."
Keeping good boundaries can prevent burn out. Be aware that you can't provide the best service if you're not up for it. She recommends prayer if someone comes up to you and wants something that you cannot provide at the moment.
It's important to have fun after work, not take it home with you.
Being in the spotlight as a spiritual healer can often come with the consequence that people criticize you and your ability.

There were lots of things I had issue with.
I hated that she kept saying, "I don't want that. You want that?" It was said repeatedly and in such a way that a person would know that if they were to say yes, they wanted that that it was not a good thing.
She used a lot of opinions. One in particular was that she doesn't like the fountains used in massage therapists and aroma therapists offices. She suggested to "get rid of them." I thought that if she didn't like them, she could request that they not use them while she's in their office.
She assumed that people had not considered that they don't need to carry the problems of their clients with them all the time. When I came into the healing field, I was told by a friend that as a healer, I needed to get out, have fun and have a laugh. Coworkers also used the symbol of leaving the bag of crap from work at the door at work and picking it back up when returning to work. I disliked that Myss was insistent that no one had ever thought of it. In her deck of cards, one of them says something like "not wanting the student to become to the master." I felt like this was something she was doing.
I know she has had criticism, the most damaging is that she has a Ph. D from a program that she developed but you really do have to consider where the information is coming from. She went on a rant about not selling out.
Another rant was that a person isn't a healer if they're too sensitive. Healers are strong. In my opinion, healers have different ways of being healers and some are sensitive and some are strong and some are sensitively strong.
She gave her opinion about bartering. Maybe it's just my experience but it seems that in the business world, people barter as well as get paid money. So, it's nice that she has the opinion but there are other ways and it might be beneficial to have the information about why people barter. If this is an informative CD, maybe other perspectives have to be considered.
She strongly connects money with self-worth. I have experienced the negative side to this in that someone was trying to sell their artwork and trying to figure out their "self-worth." They were in great distress because they didn't know their worth. So, I disagree that self-worth is connected with money. Someone told me that for someone to work, they have to have their heart, mind, and pocketbook aligned. I like that opinion better than the way Myss expressed it.
The second CD about the shadow healer and the wounded healer were really confusing for my understanding about what it is have a shadow or a wound.

I strongly advise not to get this CD. I definitely plan on selling my copy. It was not worth it. My studies have covered a lot of these things and more.
4807354
The old axiom 'be careful what you wish for' seems created to be applied to this wondrous piece of cloth. To think that a bolt of cloth, some thread and a screen print could alter the lives of so many.

All my life I have struggled with fertility issues. I have taken all the right pills, been to all the leading specialists and worn the most loose fitting undies obtainable through non-black market means. All to no avail. Yet I kept getting 'back in the saddle' to start a little wolf pack of my own. It was discouraging and this lead to depression and low self esteem; fertility killers as well 'cause no one wants to hook up with a downer.

Then, one day, while in the seedier part of town, a man in a trenchcoat insisted he could help me. I scoffed with derision as he flung open his trench coat and revealed what he described as the universal answer to all the woes of the universe. There it was: the 3 wolf moon tee. I felt the power emanating from the shirt and immediately emptied my wallet to the dealer so I could be a whole man. A complete man. A man of virility.

Since that day, I have not taken off the shirt. Despite the wretched odors wafting from my person, the ladies will not leave me be. My life has become that of a bunny rabbit. I am a testosterone-filled, machine gun of potency, cranking out little wolf-children with wild abandon. It was my dream and now it is my curse. And so I have fled. At last count, I fathered 133 children due to the palpable sex-aura of the 3 wolf shirt. I have sacrificed myself and I now dwell in the west hills or OR; hunting for sustenance but shunning all contact with women to stop the breeding madness.

You have all been warned.
4594804
I admit it. I loved this TV. I dubbed her Scarlet and cooed to her before leaving the room and after I returned. I jealously prevented others from abusing her and hogged her all to myself. The pictures were always rich and beautiful. The sound was good too. I even loved the special hum shr made whenever I turned her on. We had a beautiful relationship until three years after buying her from QVC, I started to smell a burned rubber smell whenever she was turned on. Then odd streaks appeared across her screen and wouldn't go away.  Not long afterwards, I turned her on and a plume of hideous smelling smoke rose from the top of her head. I peered inside and saw small flames and Scarlet died.

I mourned her and kept her sitting on her shrine for weeks before replacing her because I promised myself I would try to get her fixed. Her warranty was expired and it was cheaper to buy a new one than to have her revived. It was one of the saddest days of my life. I miss her much. Maybe I just got a Scarlet with a bad heart. But I can't bear go through that again. So I have opted for Samsungs and it's been smooth sailing since.
2685772
Be careful.  They are dangerous.  I wanted to eat one a day.  They are just too tempting.
950146
After loosing a fortune in the housing market, my vampire master, Count Radu, was forced to sell his 600 year-old wrought iron casket to pay the deposit on the self-storage unit we were going to move into after the bank foreclosed Castle Radu.  After securing our unit, the Count was left with just enough money to purchase the Sandler All Wood Coffin Kit.  I found the assembly remarkably easy, despite the fact that I have no carpentry experience, having spent the last several years working part-time at the blood-bank and the rest of my time trolling slums for vagrants and prostitutes to lure back to the castle with promises of wine and money.  I was to transport the count in the coffin from the castle to the storage unit via pickup truck.  The trip was uneventful, but while unloading the coffin, I discovered that one of the top planks had come loose during the journey exposing the count to the murderous rays of the sun.  I was devastated to discover that after years of faithful service to my undead master, I am left with nothing but a lease on a storage unit, a pile of ashes, and a slightly-used and poorly constructed wooden coffin.  There is nothing left for me now but to shut myself in this cursed coffin with the remains of my master, a gallon of gasoline, and a book of matches.  I will be with you again soon, Master.
1704885
It was a Sunday afternoon and I was just settling in to watch some football . I was alone in the house except for Newman, our French Angora rabbit, and my 5lb bag of sugar free gummy bears. At the opening kickoff I tore open the package and started with a huge handful. Several fell to the ground, but I really didn't care, as Newman is an indiscriminate eater, to put it mildly. Midway through both the second handful, and the second quarter, I began sweating profusely. Time seemed to start randomly slowing down and speeding up, and the TV screen seemed to be strangely fuzzy. Suddenly I felt the monster from Alien chewing at my duodenum, and doubled over in excruciating agony, as the monster slowing chewed it's way towards my rectum.
I slumped to the ground and only a Herculean effort pulled myself to my elbows. The alien was now banging on my inner sphincter, and I silently thanked my years of hockey for the gluteus muscles that were now my Maginot line against the pure evil that was desperately trying to break free. I knew that if I allowed it to pass, all mankind would suffer. With legs gone numb from the agonizing shards of gummy glass perforating my colon, I slowly made my way towards the half bath, thankfully located in the mudroom.
How long I crawled I have no recollection of. For me it seemed an eternity, and while I cannot be sure, I seem to remember a curious traveler, poised next to a clear glass orb, upon which various knobs and levers in ornate Victorian style were mounted. While he made no move to help me, I could see the tears welling in his eyes as he silently mouthed the words "don't forget the rabbit". In my state I couldn't understand his meaning and despair overwhelmed me and blotted everything else.

I awoke on the bathroom floor. The shining porcelain throne was within reach, and I dragged myself upwards, then onto the seat. To my horror, instead of the comforting hermetic seal of my Mayfair 13EC-066 Soft Toilet Seat with Wood Core I felt the cold and clammy embrace of the yellow bowl water.
The lid was up and I had fallen in, victim of my own "if it's yellow, let it mellow" mantra. I didn't care though, levering myself up, I felt my defenses crumble and give way. What came next was the vilest creation of man, a gluey, sodden mess of putrefaction that one would expect to come out of a bloated, corpse. The Sphincter Tsunami exited so quickly that the water in the bowl sloshed up the sides and over, in a cascade of unbearable filth. This went on for many seconds, but finally slowed and sputtered to a stop.
While my bowels felt empty and weak, to my horror I realized that my own liquids were digesting my sphincter from the outside now, like the starfish that regurgitates it's stomach to eat the clam. Toilet paper was out of the question, as it felt like acid sandpaper against my partially devoured flesh. It was then that I noticed Newman, lying comatose on the floor, and the words of the time traveler came back to me, "remember the rabbit" Putting aside my guilt, I picked him up and thought, if the bear can do it, so can I.
1633684
I wish I had known that this was the logo for a notorious movie-pirating website before I stuck it on my car. Now everyone thinks I'm a different sort of pirate entirely!
2491882
I almost feel like I have to apologize because I personally know the author.  Not in a besties sort of way but more like in a exchange some emails, breakfast with Anne, Chris and my son, Yusef at Cracker Barrel sort of way.

However, this much is true.

I am have an intense, building up desire in my heart to preach and teach the word of God and to pastor people.

The more I grow in this desire and the more I sit under the teaching of God, Anne Jackson's writings (Mad Church Disease and Permission to Speak Freely) have been the tremendous gifts that speak to my heart and was able to stir up my emotions quite easily.

Youth minister? Angry enough to throat punch him.

Porn?  Despair in my own sin.

Depression?  Hoping to understand and love well.

Yet in my throat-punching anger, as a single man, I pray for God's grace and mercy for I long for a wife because I am a thousand times worse than that youth minister.

Yet in my own despair, I am so desperate for God's grace and mercy for His infinite strength in hopes I don't stumble before going to sleep that night.

Yet in my lack of compassion, I beg God for His heart and understanding.  I cannot love well and I do not love well but He does and He will.  Help me God.

Thank you, Anne, for this.  Thank you for walking with me even when you are so far away from me.
4176862
This book is dangerous and gives a formula of how to be happy/blessed by living by the beatitudes. You cannot live by this no more than the Jews could live up to the  Law. The beatitude should make a person say "I can't live up to this standard and need a savior." Matthew 5 also talks about being angry in your mind or THINKING adulterous thoughts in your mind as a sin. How many have done this and can anyone really say that live by the Sermon on the Mount?
540213
am writing this review of Haribo Gummy Bears as a form of closure, from the psychological and physical extremes these candies have caused me....
It all began innocently enough on a fateful day in June when I discovered this wonderful deal on amazon. I happily clicked away upon my mouse and keyboard as I surfed my way towards 5 pounds of sugar free goodness. The next few days were filled with as much anticipation as it was filled with an unfiltered sense of happiness. You can imagine the day I saw the package on my porch, a series of high pitched wood hatch like happy noises escaped my mouth as my heart raced with pure joy....I tore into the package with a ravenousness rarely seen outside of the wilds of the African Sarenghetti.... Like a kid on Christmas morning! I spent the entire day bathing my taste buds in gooey goodness that is the haribo gummy bear.... Then as I slept soundly that night, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse... When out of the depths of the 7th ring of hell rose such a guttural roar of evil, causing me to shoot straight up out of bed... I was disoriented ... Hallucinating.... I was led from my bed chambers by a midget sized giraffe named Raymond..... Though Raymond was pleasant enough I was terrified from the demonic bellows escaping from somewhere near by.... Raymond and I entered to land of a thousand toilets.... He skipped away whistling a tune of repression and sadness.... As my body seemed to float towards a giant golden toilet..... I was watching myself through the toilet water in my bathroom of my home, as I starred on with a mixture of confusion, pain and terror... My body gave birth to a mass of evil resembling something from the depths of the Everglades swamps in Florida... My body wretched about like a stripper on bath salts.... I let out screams that would make a mountain lion cringe... The smell was that of a thousand rotting plates of Indian food.... Tears flew from my eyes... Sweat soaked my exhausted body.... I awoke the next morning lying next to my toilet surrounded by homeland security... As I write this review I ponder why I clicked away on amazon that day... Now spending the rest of my life in maximum security for release of a WMD on American soil.....
263867
So I burned my little brother with one of these Illy pods a long time ago. It's his favorite guilt card to play.  I was showing off my new ESE espresso machine (which turned out to be the Betamax of coffee machines).  After pulling the shot I reached in and grabbed the pod.  It was hot so I reached out and placed it against his chest thinking it would annoy him.  I misjudged how hot it was.  He reacted as if I branded him in the chest with an iron.  I underestimated the pod's ability to retain and conduct heat despite it's porous and cake-like features.  I felt horrible.  Sorry bro for causing you such misery.  I was just being my usual weird self to my little brother.  I'm not a psychopath.
965601
I woke up this morning despondent and uncertain of how I would go on. My dog - Belle - had gotten me to the point where I was going jump off the top of my roof. Unfortunately, this would only result in a sprained ankle, the loss of bowel and bladder control and the destruction of innocent petunias. Then "Lorisse's Dog Training" barged into my life like a 74 year old blind Norwegian flight attendant on meth ... Foreboding, yet at the same time ... Oddly appealing. I resisted and then, realizing that resistance was futile, gave in. My dog is better. And my ankles, bowel, bladder and petunias are better for it
828715
This product has fulfilled it's purpose of sitting on my shelf as a decorative object. However, when I sleep at night I cannot help but cower in fear at the sight of Lady Palutena's unrelenting gaze. Filled with malice it pierces into my soul, never breaking focus. Sometimes I wonder when Her Holiness will soar across my abode and put and end to my unworthy life.

Due to the angst I now endure, I shall bestow this product 3 golden stars.
4945053
I don't believe in God but this was recommended to me by someone I highly respect. He does believe in God and told me I'd need to ignore the God talk. I figured it was framed in God talk, but it's pretty much all God talk. I just couldn't keep listening and got about 35% into it. That said, what I found most interesting was that the suggestion was that self-sabotage occurs because we are punishing ourselves for a sin. And then, by confessing that sin, we are freed from punishing ourselves. I found that interesting because I think there is probably some truth to it -- I do think it's possible we self-sabotage for something we feel shame and/or guilt for and therefore we believe we deserve that punishment.
4329377
Sometimes I like to indulge in some guilty pleasures and Elizabeth Hoyt is fastly becoming my guilty pleasure read, no pun intended. I find myself either thoroughly enjoying her work or rolling my eyes but in the same breath, I cant stop reading it. Its a problem, I know!
Temperance Dews is a widow who happens to run a childrens home in St. Giles which is known for its slums. She alongside her brother, Winter, take in children and infants who would otherwise be turned out on the streets or worse  used in prostitution or some other gimmick. We learn early on that the death of her husband weighs on Temperance heavily and she seems laden with guilt. Whats more is that the home is in desperate need of a wealthy patron to supply funds to them and without the funds, they will all be turned out on the streets.

Gruesome murders aren't so uncommon but there seems to be a serial killer on the loose, gutting women from head to toe and that is what brings Lord Caire to the scene. Hes a man known for his dark tastes and wicked ways, he had also hired one of the murdered prostitutes as his mistress. So, he seeks out someone who knows St. Giles better than himself which brings him to Temperance.

The world is so gritty and disgusting you can nearly imagine yourself trudging through those streets and experiencing what it was to be a woman of those times, absolute prey.

I am not overly keen on fast transitions from acquaintance to trembling with want and while I do realize this is a romance novel keep in mind this is my opinion and something that keeps me from enjoying a moment. I don't mind these situations for a quick, guilty read but to gain anything substantial from a love scene [or even just a purely lustful scene,] I like more depth. More building up to it to add more to it. Out of the few Hoyt books Ive read, its either a hit or miss in that department. Still! Ill always pick up a read of hers.

I don't feel as though this book was as well put together as her others, even my least favorite  To Desire A Devil  seemed to be better constructed but I do feel as though its worth a strong 3 crown rating. Its still a decent read, I enjoyed it and wanted to finish it, but I definitely was not in love with it.