<?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-13295797</id><updated>2011-04-21T18:04:05.074-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Marry Me</title><subtitle type='html'>Featuring Men Who Will Never Be My Husband Because They Are Dead</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112144043809509757</id><published>2005-07-16T00:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-16T00:21:23.440-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Done</title><content type='html'>I love this blog, so it is with a touch of sadness that I write this final post. I envision  this blog as a piece of conceptual art, and as in all works of conceptual art, the the art is the idea. The execution is a mere demonstration of the idea. Given that the concept has been domonstrated, there is no reason for me to continue to post every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea for Can't Marry Me came to me upon the death of reknowned architect Philip Johnson. It occurred to me at the time that he would have been my perfect husband, but for the fact that he was old, gay, and, most significantly, dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112144043809509757?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112144043809509757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112144043809509757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/done.html' title='Done'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112143360141567589</id><published>2005-07-15T09:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T09:20:01.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Arthur Fletcher</title><content type='html'>This rare and admirable man would have been an equal opportunity husband.  A black Republican from Kansas, he was instrumental in establishing affirmative action.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112143360141567589?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/14/politics/14fletcher.html' title='Arthur Fletcher'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112143360141567589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112143360141567589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/arthur-fletcher.html' title='Arthur Fletcher'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112134683715640475</id><published>2005-07-14T09:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-14T09:13:57.160-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mortimer Levitt</title><content type='html'>To begin with, what a wonderful name--Mortimer.  Mortimer Levitt was an accomplished businessman, author, and music patron.  Although he amassed quite a fortune, he could never quite relax and enjoy his money.  As his wife, I could have helped him with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112134683715640475?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/14/nyregion/14levitt.html' title='Mortimer Levitt'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112134683715640475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112134683715640475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/mortimer-levitt.html' title='Mortimer Levitt'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112125368208696585</id><published>2005-07-13T07:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T07:21:22.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lord King</title><content type='html'>Lord King had exactly the right idea--can you imagine a better name?  Even if it was a made-up name.  He would have been the perfect husband, a tough-minded airline executive who led the life of a country squire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112125368208696585?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/13/business/worldbusiness/13king.html' title='Lord King'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112125368208696585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112125368208696585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/lord-king.html' title='Lord King'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112108429679429928</id><published>2005-07-11T08:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T08:18:16.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>John Stubbleford</title><content type='html'>What could have been better than to be the wife of an accomplished "preacher" of jazz and blues who laid down soulful saxophone tracks on the recordings of many well-known jazz musicians? He's gone now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112108429679429928?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/11/arts/music/11stubblefield.html' title='John Stubbleford'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112108429679429928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112108429679429928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/john-stubbleford.html' title='John Stubbleford'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112098706027601737</id><published>2005-07-10T05:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T05:19:37.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rowland B. Wilson</title><content type='html'>If I could be the wife Rowland Wilson, described as a wry cartoonist for such publications as Playboy and The New Yorker, I might have a daughter who is a commercial artist. Wait a minute! I already have a duaghter who is a commercial artist. Nevermind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112098706027601737?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/10/arts/design/10RWilson.html' title='Rowland B. Wilson'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112098706027601737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112098706027601737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/rowland-b-wilson.html' title='Rowland B. Wilson'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112083144074932513</id><published>2005-07-08T09:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T10:04:00.750-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Abdul-Majid Shoman</title><content type='html'>Doesn't it sound kind of cool and interesting?--She is the wife of a well-known Jordanian banker.  Won't happen, of course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112083144074932513?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/08/business/worldbusiness/08shoman.html' title='Abdul-Majid Shoman'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112083144074932513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112083144074932513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/abdul-majid-shoman_08.html' title='Abdul-Majid Shoman'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112074105247552571</id><published>2005-07-07T08:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T08:57:32.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'>L. Patrick Gray III</title><content type='html'>I might have found it disappointing and annoying if I had married L. Patrick Gray.  Disappointing because he wasn't J. Edgar Hoover, who for me will always be the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; Director of the FBI.  Annoying because I would have had to call him L. Patrick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112074105247552571?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/07/politics/07gray.html' title='L. Patrick Gray III'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112074105247552571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112074105247552571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/l-patrick-gray-iii.html' title='L. Patrick Gray III'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112065246871155521</id><published>2005-07-06T08:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T08:21:08.716-04:00</updated><title type='text'>James Stockdale</title><content type='html'>I think it could have been swell to have been the wife of James Stockdale.  Not only was he a U. S. Navy hero and a vice-presidential candidate, he knew when to turn his hearing aid off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112065246871155521?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/06/politics/06stockdale.html?th&amp;emc=th' title='James Stockdale'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112065246871155521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112065246871155521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/james-stockdale.html' title='James Stockdale'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112056278941463511</id><published>2005-07-05T07:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T07:29:37.026-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hank Stram</title><content type='html'>It might have been fun to have had Hank as a husband. He was not only a successful and innovative football coach, he was also a clothes horse. He was one of the few men who might have understood why I "need" more shoes than I have feet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112056278941463511?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=13295797' title='Hank Stram'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112056278941463511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112056278941463511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/hank-stram.html' title='Hank Stram'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112048224720530338</id><published>2005-07-04T08:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T13:34:08.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gaylord Nelson</title><content type='html'>Both a Senator and an environmentalist, he also had staying power as a husband--married for fifty-seven years. Being the wife of the founder of Earth Day might have made me feel grounded.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112048224720530338?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/03/politics/03cnd-nelson.html' title='Gaylord Nelson'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112048224720530338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112048224720530338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/gaylord-nelson.html' title='Gaylord Nelson'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112039439496453393</id><published>2005-07-03T08:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T09:10:03.686-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Willam J. Brink</title><content type='html'>Perhaps it is just as well that Willam J. Brink will never be my husband. We might have had a troubled relationship. Then again, maybe not. Perhaps we could have worked to avoid all discussion of his interesting role in Gerald Ford's defeat, an event that saddened me greatly at the time. You see, in 1975 Brink was managing editor of the Daily News of New York and he is the one who came up with the famous headline FORD TO CITY: DROP DEAD. Result? Ford lost New York and the presidential election. While I am genetically disinclined to forgive even clever misdeeds, perhaps I would have gotten over it since the punishment was so severe: after a successful career as a journalist, Brink is known only for that headline.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112039439496453393?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/02/nyregion/02brink.html' title='Willam J. Brink'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112039439496453393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112039439496453393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/willam-j-brink.html' title='Willam J. Brink'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-112030377488508023</id><published>2005-07-02T10:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-04T09:07:58.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Luther Vandross</title><content type='html'>It might have been swell if &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/02/arts/music/02vandross.html?th&amp;emc=th"&gt;Luther Vandross&lt;/a&gt; had married me. It is hard to imagine anything more luxurious than having a live-in silky-voiced R &amp;amp; B crooner singing me love songs. Also, I just know he would have been extremely empathic about my ongoing struggles with my weight. He might have been an excellent diet partner, although I bet he would have always kept Twinkies in the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-112030377488508023?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/04/arts/music/04note.html?th&amp;emc=th' title='Luther Vandross'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112030377488508023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/112030377488508023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/07/luther-vandross.html' title='Luther Vandross'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13295797.post-111975229032820880</id><published>2005-06-26T01:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-25T22:40:28.946-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Test Post for Purpose of Preview.</title><content type='html'>This blog is in beta stage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13295797-111975229032820880?l=pleasemarryme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/111975229032820880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13295797/posts/default/111975229032820880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pleasemarryme.blogspot.com/2005/06/test-post-for-purpose-of-preview.html' title='Test Post for Purpose of Preview.'/><author><name>Kay Ballard</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rVbnbxZukgY/TCwTIccmJCI/AAAAAAAAAAw/4tCK42x59uw/S220/Bad+Mood.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
