<?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-3160075</id><updated>2011-11-01T03:49:37.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Public Waste Disposal Technician...Garbage Man.</title><subtitle type='html'>Kevin
Jesse
Zach 
Dorian
Aubrey
Robbie
Donna
Richard</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>143</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-81699349</id><published>2002-09-16T18:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-09-16T18:12:14.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here' a long story to make up for the post famine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’ll never work.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Journey T. Panasonic paused, turned slightly, and asked, “Why not?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know perfectly well why not,” Charles said, gesturing at the ladder Journey was unfolding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Journey replied as he continued lining up the ladder.  He pulled on a catcher’s mitt and calmly said, “I climb up the ladder and catch the ball, simple.”  Journey climbed the ladder and checked the stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know you haven’t got it as accurate as—”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shh!” Journey hissed as a puff of smoke rose over a distant house and a faint crack was heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charles continued “Your pitching machine simply doesn’t have the necessary calibration to–” Charles was abruptly cut off by a slight wooshing sound followed by a “thock” and a soft thud, which, though it made Charles’ point succinctly, earned him an unfortunate trip to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-81699349?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/81699349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/81699349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_09_15_archive.html#81699349' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-78944522</id><published>2002-07-14T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-07-14T13:35:30.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>one large, slightly used pair of mens underwear for sale or rent. Size XL only. JC penny fall collection. Serious Bidders only. interesting trades accepted. Contact Robbie, at &lt;a href="Http://ptm.rkt.nu"&gt;Http://ptm.rkt.nu&lt;/a&gt; for details&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-78944522?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/78944522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/78944522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_07_14_archive.html#78944522' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-77963112</id><published>2002-06-19T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-06-19T20:24:22.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*dashes off to www.cookierecipe.com to check and see if I'm really supposed to use two cups of flaked coconut, or if it's supposed to be something more sane.  Like, for instance, two &lt;b&gt;half-cups&lt;/b&gt;.  Because man, two cups of coconut is a &lt;i&gt;lot&lt;/i&gt;!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-77963112?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/77963112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/77963112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_06_16_archive.html#77963112' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-75815263</id><published>2002-04-25T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-04-25T10:45:19.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Zach: If bite is spelled b-i-t-e how come might isn't spelled m-i-t-e? &lt;br /&gt;Me: Because the word mite was already taken for the tiny insect.  You know, dust mites.&lt;br /&gt;Zach: Fuck you&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey, you brought it up, fuck &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach: I don't even know why im your friend&lt;br /&gt;Me: Maybe we should stop hanging out&lt;br /&gt;Zach: Fine, never call me again&lt;br /&gt;Me: I won't then&lt;br /&gt;Zach: Have a nice life fucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahhh feverish delirious dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-75815263?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75815263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75815263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_04_21_archive.html#75815263' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-75375801</id><published>2002-04-13T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-04-13T19:40:27.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Me ordering a pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Round Table Employee: Would you like to hear about our specials?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: No&lt;br /&gt;RT: The large hawaiian pizza and breadsticks is 16.99&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: I just want a large cheese pizza&lt;br /&gt;RT: That will be 18 dollars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: What? Then can i get the hawaiian deal thing without ham for the cheap price?&lt;br /&gt;RT: Uhh.. sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: How about no pineapple either?&lt;br /&gt;RT:  Yeah....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: So i get the same pizza, plus breadsticks for less money?&lt;br /&gt;RT: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;(kevin screaming loudly at a video game from across the room): KILL THE BABIES!&lt;br /&gt;RT: What did he say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;: Nothing. We'll pay by check.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-75375801?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75375801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75375801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75375801' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-75342870</id><published>2002-04-12T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-04-12T16:34:18.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i saw tyler's dad, and someone who wasn't tyler's mom making babies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-75342870?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75342870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75342870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75342870' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-75235714</id><published>2002-04-09T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-04-09T22:59:25.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;marshmelostars:&lt;/b&gt; what should i doooo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf:&lt;/b&gt; well it seems to me, you've got 2 choices&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf:&lt;/b&gt; 1.   bite the bullet, do it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;marshmelostars:&lt;/b&gt; go on go on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf:&lt;/b&gt; 2.   get on the first flight to afghanistan, join up with an unkown group called the Taliban, and fight against the "war on terrorism",  get lost in the deserts of Africa and wear a turban...hunt scorpians for food, and find water by diging far under the ground near cacti...then be found by spanish colonials, fight and eventually be conquered and soled into slavery, then you escape and steal a ship from the dread pirate robbins and sail to the edge of the world where you will cast your english homework into the depths of the underworld, and never be heard from again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf:&lt;/b&gt; those seem like your only choices to me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-75235714?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75235714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75235714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75235714' title=''/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03119051485063137285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-75232628</id><published>2002-04-09T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2002-04-09T20:59:03.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Kevin's Komeback Special&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kevin:&lt;/b&gt;  It'll happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian:&lt;/b&gt;  How do you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kevin:&lt;/b&gt;  Because everything that was meant to happen does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian:&lt;/b&gt;  How do you know when something is meant to happen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kevin:&lt;/b&gt;  I know these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian:&lt;/b&gt;  Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons my friend for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kevin:&lt;/b&gt;  What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian:&lt;/b&gt;  I don't know I think I read it on a bumpersticker somewhere.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-75232628?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75232628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/75232628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75232628' title=''/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03119051485063137285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-11399225</id><published>2002-04-02T19:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-04-02T19:15:46.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>my mom calls from the room next to mine:&lt;br /&gt;"why is kevins name written in marker on the door frame?"&lt;br /&gt;kevin calls back:&lt;br /&gt;"burglars"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-11399225?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/11399225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/11399225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11399225' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-11334623</id><published>2002-03-31T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-31T22:31:02.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Raiders Of The Lost Pork". Yeah, shut up, I thought it was funny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-11334623?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/11334623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/11334623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_31_archive.html#11334623' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10941393</id><published>2002-03-20T12:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-20T12:12:03.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>oh dorian.. when will you learn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;seattle sucks. the end. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10941393?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10941393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10941393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10941393' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10919912</id><published>2002-03-19T20:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-19T20:37:10.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>penguinmachine: hey babe&lt;br /&gt;XrawEMOtionX: hello&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: you used to work at Copelands right?&lt;br /&gt;XrawEMOtionX: yeah&lt;br /&gt;XrawEMOtionX: who's this?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: my name is Sondra&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: i don't think you remember me&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: my brother bought a skateboard there&lt;br /&gt;XrawEMOtionX: how would i remember you ... gimme a description .. or something unique you did?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: you called him a cock brained poser&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: do you remember that?&lt;br /&gt;XrawEMOtionX: no i don't remember that at all&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: anyway i thought  it was cute&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10919912?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10919912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10919912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10919912' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10723404</id><published>2002-03-13T22:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-13T22:28:10.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>dorian jesse and i went to lunch today. at a stop light i was positioned in the passenger seat of jesse's "chester the molester" van, my window was down and some guy was next to me with his window also down. perhaps it was his fear of complete silence or just because he's an incalculable highschool boy, but i failed to realize his motive, because dorian suddenly poked his head out my window, emitted the loudest girl scream in history and then swiftly hid behind my seat. the guy looked over at the remaining offender, meaning myself, and responded "daaamn girl! i almost crapped my pants!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10723404?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10723404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10723404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10723404' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10609555</id><published>2002-03-10T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-10T22:24:08.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Set the scene: &lt;br /&gt;My sister and me sitting in Moxies Cafe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;My Sister&lt;/b&gt;: "What're you writing?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "A case study on the effects of Zen Buddhism on the mind of high school students in an extremely high stress environment.  What are you reading about?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;My Sister&lt;/b&gt;: Poodles, mostly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10609555?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10609555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10609555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10609555' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10545647</id><published>2002-03-08T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-08T18:45:00.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>as jesse luna tries desperately to pick up the pace on eleven.blogspot.com, he is quickly dragged off to an insane asylum in Sacramento, where his hospital rommate masturbates to pictures of livestock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10545647?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10545647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10545647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10545647' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10522504</id><published>2002-03-07T23:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T23:16:00.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ZACH SUCK MY COCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Dorian&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10522504?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10522504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10522504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10522504' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10522493</id><published>2002-03-07T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-07T23:15:44.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>DORIAN, YOU ARE A FUCKER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Zach~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10522493?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10522493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10522493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10522493' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10346002</id><published>2002-03-03T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-03-03T17:09:17.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>penguinmachine: so hows being korean working out for you?&lt;br /&gt;Lavitz906: the language?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10346002?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10346002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10346002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10346002' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-10171751</id><published>2002-02-26T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-02-26T20:57:47.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"what? i thought anarchy was cool last year."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -Juno&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-10171751?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10171751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/10171751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_02_24_archive.html#10171751' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-9831695</id><published>2002-02-17T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-02-17T18:10:04.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>friday morning our Holiday Inn hotel room phone rings at seven thirty. and it rings. and it rings endlessly. until Emma, half awake, begins to toy with the alarm clock, assuming the ringing is the alarm going off. and she's a bit confused as the ringing fails to cease. and that's when Natalie picks up the receiver, unaware that Emma was on the other side of the night stand still pushing buttons on the alarm clock. it was a good story to demonstrate Emma's dorkiness and mr Christopher's unbelievably jacked-up decisions. his callous decision to perform a wake-up call on about fifty highschoolers at SEVEN in the morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was a good field trip. but ACTies as a group bore, anger and drag me to a point of complete terror. it's my ACT family and as reluctant as i am, i have to love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and dorian memorably exclaimed "jesse, you mother fucker" over the speakers in front of the entire audience of "the hit WB television comedy" Raising Dad. it was the worse show i've willingly watched.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-9831695?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/9831695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/9831695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_02_17_archive.html#9831695' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-8590045</id><published>2002-01-10T21:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-01-12T13:56:39.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>for years i have curiously had him on my buddy list, wondering if one day he may sign on and i would be the lucky one to get to talk to him.  and tonight, just a mere two minutes ago i missed my opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: who are you?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: is it really you?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: or just someone with your name as their screen name?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: tell me now&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: please&lt;br /&gt;Tom Cruise signed off at 9:16:01 PM. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-8590045?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8590045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8590045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2002_01_06_archive.html#8590045' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-8337769</id><published>2002-01-01T23:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2002-01-01T23:18:31.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alright this is what happend. I changed my password for aol yesterday and I COMPLETELY forgot what I changed it to, so I tried to click the little "forgot password" button and this is what happend.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AOL. type your screen name here _________&lt;br /&gt;Me: JOL530&lt;br /&gt;AOL: &lt;i&gt;"A password reminder will be mailed to you shortly. Please check your email and log in." &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: FUCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if I forgot my password, HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO CHECK MY MAIL AND LOG IN?!?!!?&lt;br /&gt;a short story of why AOL is dumber than Lana's mom in a family circus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(edited by me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-8337769?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8337769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8337769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8337769' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-8270597</id><published>2001-12-30T00:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-30T00:09:53.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>the childhood of dorian as told by everyone i've talked to. (edited by me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in elementary school&lt;br /&gt;...wait no one remembers dorian in elementary school, because he wore sweat pants and had long hair. and everyone thought he was a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in 11th grade&lt;br /&gt;dorian beat up donna, 'cause she's a rotten person.&lt;br /&gt;and matt's brother is still white.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-8270597?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8270597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8270597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8270597' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-8245182</id><published>2001-12-28T19:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-28T19:23:27.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>the childhoods of Zach and Tyler as told in their own words.&lt;br /&gt;(edited by me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in Kindergarden&lt;br /&gt;I (zach) remember tyler being really smart. he asked me to pick a&lt;br /&gt;number between 1 and 10. i picked 7, and HE picked 7!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in 1st grade&lt;br /&gt;this lady came into our class with puppets.&lt;br /&gt;And she could make them talk without using her lips. &lt;br /&gt;She brought Tyler up in front of the class to try it without using &lt;br /&gt;his lips. He tried it, and i remember he hella sounded &lt;br /&gt;stupid and i thought he was a shit head &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in fifth grade&lt;br /&gt;zach ate a grasshopper on a dare, and then the teacher asked &lt;br /&gt;what he was doing, and zach started to cry and spit grasshopper everywhere &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in sixth grade&lt;br /&gt;Zach was dared to lick whipped cream off Christians fingers and instead of doing&lt;br /&gt;it he said that you had a bowel problem and ran away to the bathroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in 8th grade&lt;br /&gt;tyler, matt and i would hang out at lunch&lt;br /&gt;tyler would tell us stories of the band he was in&lt;br /&gt;Matt would always call him the "vampire kid"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-8245182?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8245182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8245182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_23_archive.html#8245182' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-8149797</id><published>2001-12-23T14:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-23T14:01:27.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Snoglepus: you're good at finding pictures aren't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: hail satan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;needless to say, kevin never spoke to me again&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-8149797?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8149797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/8149797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_23_archive.html#8149797' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7825570</id><published>2001-12-10T21:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-10T21:14:25.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: you bastard&lt;br /&gt;SmarterChild: Whoa. I haven't heard language like that since the last Chris Rock special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;god bless your unmatched wit SmarterChild&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7825570?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7825570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7825570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_09_archive.html#7825570' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7790805</id><published>2001-12-09T18:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-09T18:40:27.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Zach  "I wish i was an exchange student from Britland"&lt;br /&gt;Dorian"Britland?"&lt;br /&gt;Zach "I mean Britlish"&lt;br /&gt;Dorian "Britlish?"&lt;br /&gt;Zach "fuck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7790805?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7790805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7790805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_09_archive.html#7790805' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7749791</id><published>2001-12-08T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-08T00:19:44.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lavitz906: ask zach where he got jay's rap&lt;br /&gt;Lavitz906: i fucking wank it&lt;br /&gt;Lavitz906: want*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7749791?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7749791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7749791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7749791' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7713368</id><published>2001-12-06T18:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-06T18:02:12.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>it was me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7713368?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7713368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7713368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7713368' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7657605</id><published>2001-12-04T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-04T23:02:09.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>today: i hear some mumbo jumbo about a car being in the middle of the parking lot and dan the bike man is telling whoever to move it. but THEN people starting approaching me with grins and "you-clever-you" looks. "hay donna i pushed your car back for you" says jake. and i start to wonder. so during last period i skip past the portables and peek my head around to the parking lot and WHO'S car is just "chilling" in the MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING PARKING LOT!? apparently it's like the new cool "thing" to harass donna and push her damn car out from the parking place cause it's so light. if i ever catch anyone touching my car, there's gonna be bruising-donna-punches, blood, and traumatic scarring for whom ever the culprit is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7657605?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7657605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7657605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7657605' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7652956</id><published>2001-12-04T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-04T19:42:07.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>FourDeadKennedys: haga means fire in espanol&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: no haga fogata!&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: no fires!&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: no dude&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: Fuego&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: fuck&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7652956?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7652956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7652956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7652956' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7628864</id><published>2001-12-04T01:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-04T01:16:33.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Dorian: hi, Im going make this post something like a cross between kevin and zach.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now going to list everything thats on my desk. there is.. a receiver, a camera, a stack of  'army be all you can be' note pads that me and dorian stole from career night, my moniter, a 250 ml erlinmeyer flask.. dont know where that came from.. my phone a salt shaker a remote, my wallet, a half eaten bag of chicken flavored ramen, a carls jr cup thats about 3/4 of the way full that says "celebrating 60 years of good service" a glass cup, a plate with some mashed potatoes on it.. and a spoon.. hmm.. 3 pepsi cans, mr squeezy a paper plate, a home made bracelet maker kit, a d a penguin that has a stick and wheels and you can push it around and it makse the feel flap.. cuz they are rubber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that concludes my desk and the worst post Ever.. &lt;br /&gt;dear zach.. that post about the sleep and that nost and the low-grade mac and cheese, not very believeable.. but it was funny.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im dont.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Dear dorian.. sorry to break it to you.. but your parents dont even know of you, they think your michelles friend that just hangs around alot..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kill me before I keep typing&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7628864?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7628864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7628864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7628864' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7594448</id><published>2001-12-02T21:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-02T21:29:03.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dorian: POST!&lt;br /&gt;Jesse: I don't feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;Dorian: But you NEVER post!&lt;br /&gt;Jesse:....I...... forgot my password.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if anyone knows jesses password please tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7594448?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7594448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7594448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7594448' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7592222</id><published>2001-12-02T19:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-02T19:50:50.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: do your parents know your band made a CD?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: i dunno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: do they even know you're in a band?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: i think so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: do they know you exhist?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: they know &lt;i&gt;of&lt;/i&gt; me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7592222?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7592222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7592222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7592222' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7591746</id><published>2001-12-02T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-12-02T19:32:04.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So i finally saw the movie "Bring It On."  In case you didn't know, this movie is a White Girl VS. Black Girl cheerleading movie starring some white girl.  It sucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dorian "Worst Post EVER" Cohen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7591746?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7591746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7591746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_12_02_archive.html#7591746' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7522645</id><published>2001-11-29T22:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-29T22:17:47.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>richard:Now tell me, is Newport a really un-catchy name?  It is listed as the third most advertised cigarette brand.  I hadn't heard of it when I first read that, and a month later, when I read it again, I feel like I still have never heard of it Camel and Marlboro are the two companies I know of&lt;br /&gt;Robbie:newport is for wieners and chicks, youve heard of those 2 because they target young healthy males, chances are newport hasnt hit you because your not a teenage girl unhappy with what she sees in the mirror&lt;br /&gt;richard:Yes...that's it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Eyes wander to mirror, weight loss powder and Teen magazine&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7522645?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7522645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7522645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_25_archive.html#7522645' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7403093</id><published>2001-11-25T21:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-25T21:26:34.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>so last night, i make me some low-grade mac and cheese and eat it right? i go into my room which is pitch black and hope to basically stumble into my bed and get some well earned sleep, since it was about 1:30. first i run into my closet door causing a nose bleed. next i kick over a bottle of nearly full pepsi on the ground, causing a huge stain. i try to shimmy to my bathroom to get a towel without hitting anything else, but i trip over my guitar case and i fall into a blissful sleep on the seafoam green carpet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7403093?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7403093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7403093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_25_archive.html#7403093' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7396807</id><published>2001-11-25T16:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-25T16:53:18.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Jenny Sies:  If the world was going to end in 24 hours, what would you do?&lt;br /&gt;Dorian: You know that movie "Bring it on?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7396807?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7396807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7396807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_25_archive.html#7396807' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7361391</id><published>2001-11-23T23:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-23T23:31:58.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay, so there is the bastard clerk who works at blockbuster named Dana.  he is always a jerk to me and my friends... he thinks we are stealing movies.  what the fuck? he just hates teenagers because he is angry at the world because his mother held him too much when he was a baby. or not enough. anyways he is a bastard.  everyone else at blockbuster loves me and my friends.  but he is a bastard.  so the other day i bring in a little coupon for "one free rental"  i go to the counter and try to rent my movie and get out cause i can feel him watching me and staring in to my soul. anyway i get to the counter and he looks at me and then looks at the coupon, then the movie, then the cash register, then his shoes, then back at the coupon, then at the movie again, then his eyes contact mine, and his mouth twitches a little and he says: "you can't use these coupons on DVDs."  now, i knew this wasn't true, but being the pussy that i am and having nothing good to say as a retort, i payed for the movie like a sap.  now comes the good part. so get some snacks and a cold beveridge such as a pepsi cola, which preformed 88% better in taste tests held world wide.  pepsi also has an extra tablespoon more sugar than coke, making it sweeter than pure aztec gold.  back to my tale of conquest over middle-aged men stuck in dead end jobs.  i come back the next day with my friend zach.  i also noticed that three of my favorite employees were working.  and there was the bastardly dana, ammounting to the entire 4 clerks needed to operate the front of my friendly neighborhood movie rental facility. so i get to the counter after many a minute spent in the ungodly line, and i have a DVD and the same coupon, and a grin on my face.  Dana looks at me, the counter, the movie, etc. etc. etc. and then says: you can't blah blah on the blah blah and i say: "hey charlie, didn't you tell me i CAN use these coupons on DVDs?"  charlie replies: "yeah, you can do that" &lt;br /&gt;now my friend and mentor, i only wish you could have been there to see the events that unfolded in the following dozen or so minutes.  dana started going off about how he wasn't told that you could use the coupons on the things, and how this wasn't about him just descriminating against teenagers.  everyone laughed at him and he started complaining about how KC (the manager) likes to tell him what to do all the time. and when i told him that i liked KC, he glared and said: "GOOD"  then one of the other employees (Ryan) yelled from across the room: "I feel the love"  it was hilarious and needless to say we celebrated with Donuts and Cherry Cola, which has 64% more cherry taste than the leading brand.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7361391?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7361391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7361391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_18_archive.html#7361391' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7217543</id><published>2001-11-18T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-18T10:26:53.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>pink hair SUCKS. *waits for tuesday to come around so she can have money to buy a dark pink dye or red* oh god.. it's gonna be a long 2 days....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"cotton candy pink"... it doesn't even look like cotton candy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;zach's hair is scrumcious. grrrrowl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just informed that the bouncers at the DK show last night (where the best band around, Face Down, would be opening) WEREN'T even checking ID's. we (chelz and i) were even standing outside before face down played. we were THIS CLOSE. instead, we went to zach's to dye his hair and play tony hawk 3. i'm pro at that game. buahahahahaaha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If in a band, NEVER play at Redding's Tag Teen Center. that place is creepy. it looks like an upscale preschool for teens with "having sex?" brochures hanging around all over the bathroom. no fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*takemylife*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7217543?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7217543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7217543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_18_archive.html#7217543' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7160812</id><published>2001-11-15T19:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-15T19:25:04.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>“Oh my,” said the paramedic.&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, that’s going to be a problem,” agreed the garbage man.  “I don’t suppose we can move it?”&lt;br /&gt;“Arrgh,” it groaned.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my,” the paramedic repeated.&lt;br /&gt;“I think you’re right,” the garbage man said with authority.&lt;br /&gt;“About what?”&lt;br /&gt;“Not moving it, sir.  You’re right that we shouldn’t move it.”&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, of course,” the paramedic agreed quickly.&lt;br /&gt;“But still, I suppose we could—”&lt;br /&gt;“Errgh,” it shuddered.&lt;br /&gt;“P’raps not then,” the garbage man said while stepping back.  “Maybe if we—”&lt;br /&gt;“Blargle,” it gargled, its long green fur rippling like a wheat field in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;The paramedic decided to try some variety.  “Oh dear.”&lt;br /&gt;The garbage man thought for a moment.  He started to reach for a tarp.  “We should at least cover it up, don’t you think?”  His hand reached the tarp, but he didn’t pick it up.  A very concerned garbage man addressed the paramedic.  “Could you look and tell me if there’s something on my hand?”&lt;br /&gt;The paramedic looked, widened his eyes, and slipped back into more familiar territory.  “Oh my,” he said.&lt;br /&gt;“I thought so,” the garbage man commented sadly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7160812?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7160812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7160812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7160812' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7133609</id><published>2001-11-14T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-14T22:24:17.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>that's &lt;i&gt;"genius"&lt;/i&gt; richard, &lt;i&gt;"genius"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7133609?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7133609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7133609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7133609' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7130058</id><published>2001-11-14T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-14T17:20:35.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I walk into my room and kevin is there playing a video game.  Before he sees me, i see him mumbling under his breath "Then they &lt;i&gt;squawk&lt;/i&gt; at me every time i die.... they're lauging... i hate it! .....i &lt;i&gt;hate&lt;/i&gt; it when they laugh at me!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7130058?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7130058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7130058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7130058' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7129612</id><published>2001-11-14T17:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-14T17:05:11.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Richard:&lt;/B&gt;  “Did you know that paper burns at 451 degrees Fahrenheit?  I never did know why &lt;i&gt;Fahrenheit 451&lt;/i&gt; is named that until I played Trivial Pursuit: Genus Edition.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7129612?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7129612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7129612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7129612' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7108631</id><published>2001-11-13T21:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-14T17:01:37.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;B&gt;Student:&lt;/B&gt;  “Why’d that plane crash?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Richard &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;in a smug tone&lt;/i&gt;:  “Well, that plane crashed because its engine fell off.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;B&gt;Teacher &lt;/B&gt;&lt;i&gt;with an authoritative tone&lt;/i&gt;: “Richard,” &lt;i&gt;gives a stern look&lt;/i&gt; “other parts of the plane fell off before the engine did.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Richard &lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;to himself&lt;/i&gt;:  I'm so glad my teacher was around to clarify the proper order of mid-air plane disassembly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7108631?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7108631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7108631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7108631' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7108625</id><published>2001-11-13T21:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-13T21:44:20.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;KRANG&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;VITAL BRAINTISTICS: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weapons: Brain-drain gun, Mobiloe Life-Support System, Mechanized Arms &lt;br /&gt;Birthplace: Dimension X &lt;br /&gt;Height: 1' 6" without body &lt;br /&gt;Weight: 17 lbs. (soaking wet) &lt;br /&gt;Age: Unknown &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favortie Phrase: "Home is where you hang your hat." &lt;br /&gt;Hobby: Phrenology &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krang is all the brains a body could want. Unfortunately, Krang ain't got no body. He is, however, the mastermind behind Shredder and the Foot Clan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krang's ranting, burbling, chortling, raving antics are a few of the reasons he was banished from his home-sweet-home of Dimension X. Now, Krang brings his smarty-pants attitude to the decent planet Earth, where law-abiding citizens are threatened by his supreme intelligence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krang also supplies Shredder with his controversial Retromutagen, the transformation substance which is instrumental in their conquests. Krang's tentacles allow him to wrestle with his biggest headache, the Turtles - who pose a threat to his global dominance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7108625?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7108625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7108625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7108625' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7108067</id><published>2001-11-13T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-13T21:16:50.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>FourDeadKennedys: we need to make an e-business&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: and get rich&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: and buy booze&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: seriously&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: i suggest we modify a product everyone uses&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: like....the....toenail clipper&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: rocket powered toenail clippers?&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: with anti-anthrax feet spray&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: or rocket powered glue&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: with anti-anthrax paper spray&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: or we can re-invent the book&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: with anti-anthrax fiction/biography spray&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: and right before we sell our products, we release anthrax all over the world&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: that's it, we go into production tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7108067?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7108067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7108067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7108067' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7107849</id><published>2001-11-13T21:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-13T21:06:15.180-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>this really doesnt have anything to do with this site, but uh... my site is back up... &lt;a href="http://ptm.rkt.nu"&gt;ptm.rkt.nu&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7107849?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7107849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7107849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7107849' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7077908</id><published>2001-11-12T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-12T20:01:50.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>*ring ring*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Zach&lt;/b&gt;: hello?&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa: hmph, yo mom home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Zach&lt;/b&gt;: hey grandpa, how's it going?&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa: my piss is a funny color and i have surgery next week, how the hell do you think i feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Zach&lt;/b&gt;: ...ok...&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa: yo mom home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Zach&lt;/b&gt;: ...yeah....hold on....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zach's precious family moments&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7077908?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7077908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7077908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7077908' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7075088</id><published>2001-11-12T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-12T18:10:35.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>it's slow. and awkward. thanks to me. and so ... i quit from eleven.blogspot.com. i never deserved to be here anyway ..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7075088?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7075088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7075088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7075088' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-7003200</id><published>2001-11-09T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-09T16:11:40.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>FourDeadKennedys: MORTAL KOMBAT!! DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;penguinmachine&lt;/b&gt;: where the hell do you get this stuff?&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: beats me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-7003200?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7003200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/7003200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#7003200' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6899599</id><published>2001-11-05T19:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-05T19:15:08.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>donna: i'm never speaking to dorian again&lt;br /&gt;jesse: he said the same thing&lt;br /&gt;donna: what?&lt;br /&gt;jesse: don't hit me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually that didn't happen. but i wish i was still friends with dorian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news, my site is back from the &lt;a href="http://thisfixation.com/~mdzc"&gt;dead&lt;/a&gt;. spread the news around like herpes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6899599?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6899599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6899599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6899599' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6841182</id><published>2001-11-03T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-03T13:10:24.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a buisiness card i have from the place where i got my eyebrow pierced:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEW CREATION&lt;br /&gt;Tattoo &amp; Body Piercing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;101 Salem St. #8&lt;br /&gt;Chico, CA 95978&lt;br /&gt;(530) 898-TATS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather Steele&lt;br /&gt;Henna Artist&lt;br /&gt;Nude Receptionist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------&lt;br /&gt;what the fuck is a nude receptionist?  898-TATS?  what kind of town do i live in?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6841182?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6841182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6841182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6841182' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6803410</id><published>2001-11-01T20:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-01T20:21:20.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>evilrobbiereaves: let me tell you what i hate&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: baths&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: let me tell you why&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: you wash the dirt off you&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: but it sits in this tub&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: and then you clean yourself with the dirt water?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: it's bathing yourself in your own filth!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: well no thank you!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: the end.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: let me tell you what i hate &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: toasters&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: you put the pop tart in the toaster&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: and it gets stuck?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: so you use a fork&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: and you get electrocuted?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ChunkyLLama: no thank you.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;evilrobbiereaves: i think its safe to say that thats never happened to anyone who wasnt named after a pro monster truck driver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6803410?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6803410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6803410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6803410' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6801361</id><published>2001-11-01T18:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-11-01T18:54:47.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>matt: my mom's gonna kill me. she'll get out of the car and beat me to death&lt;br /&gt;donna: is she crazy?&lt;br /&gt;matt: she's catholic.&lt;br /&gt;donna: and your brother's white.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6801361?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6801361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6801361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6801361' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6720889</id><published>2001-10-29T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2001-10-29T20:57:41.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>this just in..... kevin doesnt get to post EVER AGAIN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6720889?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6720889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6720889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6720889' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6651054</id><published>2001-10-26T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-26T21:24:01.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: is tom green freddy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: is it his brother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: and his dad fingers him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: no, he was trying to get his dad in trouble&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: so nobody was fingered at all in this movie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: and its called Freddy gets fingered?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: no fingering at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fary Nuf&lt;/b&gt;: THATS FALSE ADVERTISING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;FourDeadKennedys&lt;/b&gt;: i know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This just in...Freddie Gets Fingered involves &lt;b&gt;NO&lt;/b&gt; fingering at all...thank you for listening, now we will return to the scheduled programming...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6651054?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6651054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6651054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6651054' title=''/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03119051485063137285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6621914</id><published>2001-10-25T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-25T17:52:34.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;A Story&lt;/b&gt;: of Might and Magic&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the tale of Kabuki and the magic forest of the Albino Tapirs.  Kabuki was traveling with his feline companion Henroe to the Whimsical World of Wonder and Soup.  He had with him, his trusty bag of Neverending Gardettos and a revolver.  By the way, Henroe had blindsight meaning...he could fly.  Suddenly they came across a giant Cantalope which also had blindsight.  Kabuki shot it and they continued on their journey.  Suddenly Kabuki had a heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;*     *     *&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the tale of how Henroe stole his dead friend's belongings and went on a Mystical journey to the land of Soup and Crackers.  At this point Henroe had in his haversack, a revolver, an empty bag of Gardettos, and a plump and ripe cantalope which Henroe had drawn a face on and named Banjo.  he began to comb his hair with his shoe, then swearing drunkenly, shot Banjo.  Pudding went EVERYWHERE!  Then "The Hustle" started playing and Henroe danced.  Long story short Henroe got Cracker Poisoning and had to stay at the hospital for 4 weeks with eye sickness.  Henroe got a rare blindsight morphation and his blindsight changed, but you'll have to read about that in the next story...The Tale Of&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6621914?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6621914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6621914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6621914' title=''/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03119051485063137285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6621689</id><published>2001-10-25T17:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-25T17:40:34.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;A Story&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the tale of Indiana Jones and the hunt for the Albino Tapir.  Indiana Jones was flying over the Bblmhle (Swaheelee) Bablands (badlands) in his custom hangglider while listening to "It's Rainin' Men."  A hole appeared in his custom hanglider (hangglider) and good ol' IJ screamed "BaJuJu!" (OH CRAP) and he crash landed on a small Wazuzu boy named Henry, or in the Wazuzu dialect "Henroe."  Jonsey heard on old woman scream "Henroe click click, BAD SNAKE FOREST BEANS, the oats and barley are coming down, rub the magic lamp and save your life boy, and beware the dangerous Garden Spider, he will decieve thee with his web of lies...Maclow!"  Indiana Jones realized that he now spoke their native language and called back to the old witchtalkter/Grandmother "The horse and Butterfly jump hurdles at noon!"  he stopped and brushed off his pants, straightened his tie, took 3 IBprofin with a glass of water, tied his left shoe, adjusted his underware, straightened the brim of his hate (hat), opened his mouth, closed it, opened his mouth again, solved some chemistry equations using emensional analysis and the correct significant figures, closed his mouth again, then said "by the plethora of dollar signs on Earnest Hemingway's overdue library books, ze cowland claimed for Spain and Turtleback musketeers, when being wary of the Garden Spider thou must remember that RAID, for it kills him.  Hark, the desert eagle sings a song for mountain climbers and molecules, the caraboo cometh...wazoop zoop...bowbow TipTip."  While his accent was shaky the woman understood and comenced crying to the heavens and commanding her grandson to shine IJ's shoes.  Long story short he found the tapir and the tribe killed him and ate his brains, absorbing his power, and it never rained again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6621689?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6621689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6621689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6621689' title=''/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03119051485063137285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6597399</id><published>2001-10-24T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-24T19:52:24.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Dorian&lt;/b&gt;: Chocolate malt crunch... what exactly &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; a malt ball anyway?&lt;br /&gt;Ice Cream Vendor: Its basically dehydrated condensed whole milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian&lt;/b&gt;: Ew... you aren't exactly upselling...&lt;br /&gt;Ice Cream Vendor: Your friend is a lot less talkitive. I like him.&lt;br /&gt;Zach: Hi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian&lt;/b&gt;: I just got insulted by... (reading name tag) &lt;i&gt;Leanna&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ice Cream Vendor:  You are the first person to ever pronounce my name right...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian&lt;/b&gt;: We must be soul-mates!&lt;br /&gt;Ice Cream Vendor: I've already found my soul-mate..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dorian&lt;/b&gt;: Is he charming?.... or she...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just realized how not funny this conversation was and i am not going to finish it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6597399?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6597399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6597399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6597399' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6572245</id><published>2001-10-23T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-23T21:24:12.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: so hows smoking pot and fixing up an old van going.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: lol&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: niether of both of those&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: right&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: hows pv&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: its coo&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: hella gay but cool&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: hot ass bitches&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: hanging out and smoking pot, hoping to get an old van to fix up?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: shudup&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: ill kill you&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: who do you hang out with there?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: i dont smoke pot anymore&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: seniors&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: haha last i heard you were doing like coke&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: nahh&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: i was like&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: jesse? coke? uuhhh ohhhh&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: lol&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: ha hahahahahaahah &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: yea i can see you doing that&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: and figured youd finally gotten your own appartment and fallen down an endless hole of drugs and fortified wine&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: ohhh shit&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SktbrdJs: that will happen in good time&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;evilrobbiereaves&lt;/b&gt;: reach for the stars jesse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6572245?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6572245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6572245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6572245' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6544970</id><published>2001-10-22T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-22T21:58:46.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>oh my gosh he admitted it! DORIANS GONNA MARRY A CARROT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6544970?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6544970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6544970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6544970' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6544423</id><published>2001-10-22T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-22T21:33:12.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>my bladder can safely retain 90 mL of a liquid substance. in other words, a dixie cup of water is all i can handle. now just imagine me first period, after draining my 12 ounces of mug root beer and a teacher who insists that his students stay in class focused on trigonometry with no bathroom privileges. AGH.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6544423?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6544423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6544423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6544423' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6539326</id><published>2001-10-22T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-22T17:59:40.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Telemarketer:  Hello, Mr. Cohen?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;:  Yes...&lt;br /&gt;Telemarketer: I'm calling from the Butte County Arch, the center for the Mentally Disabled and I - &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;:   Oh! Sorry Ma'am, I'm not retarted.&lt;br /&gt;Telemarketer:  ....(stuttering) I... no Sir, I didn't suspect you were... I was calling about a possible dontation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me&lt;/b&gt;:    I'm &lt;i&gt;Financially&lt;/i&gt; disabled.&lt;br /&gt;Telemarketer:  Thank you for your time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6539326?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6539326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6539326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6539326' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6538890</id><published>2001-10-22T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-22T17:41:07.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dorian: Oh my god, Kevin thinks he's Louie Anderson!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6538890?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6538890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6538890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6538890' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6517622</id><published>2001-10-21T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-21T22:12:45.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;i've got no strings to hold me down&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;relationships suck. i'm glad it's finally over..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6517622?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6517622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6517622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6517622' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6508879</id><published>2001-10-21T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-21T15:09:30.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>so last night, around 1 o'clock, something caught my eye on the kitchen counter. i yell for chelsea to come quick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there we were, staring at a newsletter that was placed neatly on the counter for obviously me to find, called...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;SEX, ETC.&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;a newsletter for teens by teens&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laughing hysterically, we pick up the newsletter and sit down to read it. after reading the "oral sex = safe sex? NO WAY!" article, it dawns on me.. this newsletter didn't come in the mail, there's no mailing address on it. meaning... my mom (most likely her) brought it home just for me... ugh... but still i read on. about sex drives and same sex couples. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fun times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;other clues that my mom had brought it home just for me:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-the newspaper is from spring 2001. it's an old issue that my mom must have found somewhere and brought home. or maybe.. someone gave it to her. gah...&lt;br /&gt;-i remember covering the newsletter with other mail while trying to find my mail. when i woke up, the newsletter was sitting uncovered in the same exact spot, face up, ready to catch my eye again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;note: i HATE sex. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6508879?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6508879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6508879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6508879' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6507942</id><published>2001-10-21T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-21T14:21:55.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bum: hey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Zach&lt;/b&gt;: Hi&lt;br /&gt;Bum: who does your hair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Zach&lt;/b&gt;: I do&lt;br /&gt;Bum: ummm.....you need a girlfriend&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6507942?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6507942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6507942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6507942' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6424051</id><published>2001-10-17T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-17T20:45:11.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>penguinmachine: you heard right, dorian has new pants&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: i lit my pants on fire in drivers ed. today&lt;br /&gt;FourDeadKennedys: it was during our final test&lt;br /&gt;penguinmachine: zach 1, drivers ed. 0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6424051?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6424051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6424051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6424051' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6421822</id><published>2001-10-17T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-17T19:05:40.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;the tale of how i was distracted by a perfectly good ice cream sandwich.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;you see dear readers i happened to be walking to my 5th period class today. i was walking through the quad and i heard someone call my name. ROBBIE REAVES the voice yelled. i looked up then stopped and looked down at my feet, and to my surprise, sat on the ground, perfectly good, perfectly wrapped, un touched, pristine ice cream sandwich. Now my first thought of course was to pick it up and throw it at someone, but the better part of me said "now robbie, do you really want people to see you picking up an ice cream sandwich off the ground?" BUT ITS PERFECTLY GOOD, I SWEAR I WONT EAT IT "Robbie think of the people, crazy robbie ice cream sandwich off the ground eater" damn you have a point. My seccond thought was to offer someone a dollar to eat it, after i asked 2 people, and they both said no, i decided that plan wasnt going to work either. My third and final thought was to step on the perfectly good ice cream sandwich and watch the hilarity ensue, but i had already walked on and was half way to my class before that thought came.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6421822?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6421822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6421822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6421822' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6421535</id><published>2001-10-17T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-17T18:55:52.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>One of these days, im going to marry that little cat of mine, and serenade her with meow mix themes on my synthesizer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6421535?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6421535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6421535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6421535' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6372325</id><published>2001-10-15T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-15T22:38:19.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>once upon a time me dorian and my mom went to McDonalds .. this is how it went&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom: hey can I get a ....(inturrupted my staticy nasal womans voice)&lt;br /&gt;Nasal chick: hold on a second hunny.. &lt;br /&gt;Dorian.. HUNNY!.. HHAHAHAH&lt;br /&gt;Jesse: HAHAHAHAHAHAH&lt;br /&gt;my mom: can I get a large fry and a number 5?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then dorian cried&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6372325?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6372325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6372325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6372325' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6365600</id><published>2001-10-15T17:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-15T17:40:41.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>one of these days, i'm gonna marry that little aubz girl, and serenade her with emo songs on my acoustic guitar. then i'll cry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6365600?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6365600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6365600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6365600' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6346358</id><published>2001-10-14T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-14T23:55:45.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>one of these days, i'm gonna marry that little jailbait boy, and serenade him with punk rock songs from the casualties on my acoustic guitar. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6346358?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6346358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6346358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6346358' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6335915</id><published>2001-10-14T15:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-14T15:24:48.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night my good friend Tyler told Brian, Richard, and I, that 7-11 sold some sort of "Miracle Water" that tastes like delicious sweet fruit soda and contains no calories, sodium, artificial flavors, or sugars.   It had vitamins and minerals and it was fortified with protein.  Needless to say upon traveling to 7-11 we discovered this water doesn't exist.  Tyler still swears he has seen it and tasted it.  The moral of this story is.... never believe anyone whos last name is "Fyotek" and pronounces it "Fee Yo ik." &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6335915?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6335915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6335915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6335915' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6322654</id><published>2001-10-13T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-13T21:51:36.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>so im driving with my brother tonight, and i see some maniac in the middle of the street, with a T-Shirt on his head. This guy is acting drunk or pretty retarded. We pull up to him, and realized it's our timid friend cody.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6322654?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6322654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6322654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6322654' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6317083</id><published>2001-10-13T16:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-13T16:21:35.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I was sitting in the lobby and the ugliest dog I have ever seen starts grunting and shoving its face into my shoe, I try to move away but this dog keeps following me.  I sit down on the couch and the dog jumps up and grunts at me, then he goes balistic and starts attacking me.  I try to fend him off with my arm and this results in my arm getting scratched up.  Finally I hold him back and he grabs his squeek ball and runs off squeeking and grunting.  See me for more info.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6317083?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6317083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6317083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6317083' title=''/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03119051485063137285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6283083</id><published>2001-10-11T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-11T23:47:04.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>happy birthday zach.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6283083?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6283083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6283083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6283083' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6255562</id><published>2001-10-10T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T22:38:26.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I think I killed Dorian&lt;br /&gt;Jesse: hi dorian, how are you?&lt;br /&gt;Dorian: hello Jesse.. im good&lt;br /&gt;Jesse: one a scale from 1-10... how ugly am I?&lt;br /&gt;Dorian: your pretty damn ugly&lt;br /&gt;Jesse: yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then dorian cried&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6255562?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6255562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6255562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6255562' title=''/><author><name>Jesse</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05530612774464773171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6253081</id><published>2001-10-10T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T20:41:01.473-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>aubreys jailbait not you zach.... &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6253081?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6253081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6253081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6253081' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6253013</id><published>2001-10-10T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T20:37:48.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>if dorian were a food, he would be a potsticker, partly because hes... noodle on the outside and.. chicken and or beef on the inside, and partly because thats what im eating right now. If dorian were a cartoon character he would be.... a scary pirate, i dont know what kind of a cartoon character that is, but if you ask me dorian would look funny with an eyepatch and a wooden leg. im of course assuming that all pirates have peg legs and eye patches. if dorian were a social event he would be a chilli cook off. if dorian were  a hat he would be a hard hat that had beer holders and little tubes so the beer can go into your mouth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6253013?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6253013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6253013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6253013' title=''/><author><name>robear</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06604694487982187403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6252601</id><published>2001-10-10T20:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T20:20:04.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;My English Teacher&lt;/b&gt;:(to teachers aide) Someone stole my stapler!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Aide&lt;/b&gt;: The one that said 'don't steal' on the side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;My English Teacher&lt;/b&gt;: Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;(both of them chuckle a bit)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6252601?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6252601' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6252607</id><published>2001-10-10T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T20:19:21.330-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think my math teacher had a heart attack....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6252607?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6252607' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6252540</id><published>2001-10-10T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T20:19:01.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I now own a stapler from my english class, scissors from my psychology class, a hall pass from my chemistry class, and a bottle of heart medication from my math class.  Dorian you crafty bastard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6252540?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6252540' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6252258</id><published>2001-10-10T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T20:04:06.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>let's look at the key word here, &lt;i&gt;Richard&lt;/i&gt;. It's &lt;i&gt;"traditionally"&lt;/i&gt;. Fuck tradition! i'm here as a ne......GOD! i love harmonica playing bums!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6252258?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6252258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6252258' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6251474</id><published>2001-10-10T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T19:45:47.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Richard:	“Zach, are you aware that the term ‘jailbait’ is traditionally used to describe underage women and not crazy, teenage guys?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6251474?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6251474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6251474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6251474' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6227549</id><published>2001-10-09T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-10T11:40:03.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>One thing Whitley never found out was the fact that one of his Arabian slaves, Jamal Ishbu Ali Guadalupe had been smuggling sweet, sweet, Pau Pau fruit from the pantry.  He sold the fruit on E-Bay and used his earnings to attempt to outplay Ashley in a twisted game of "Five Card Draw."  Unluckily for Mr. J. I. A. Guadalupe,  that bastard third grader had a hell of a poker face.  No one knows where Jamal is today, but most would bet he took up Jazz guitar and died of a rare STD in a wax museum one faithful night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6227549?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6227549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6227549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6227549' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6227283</id><published>2001-10-09T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-09T20:32:56.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>chelsea: so what is highschool really for?&lt;br /&gt;donna: it's like your whole foundation. all your education is derived from here.&lt;br /&gt;chelsea: well, besides that..&lt;br /&gt;donna: it's so you can mingle with the "trendies" and learn what kind of person you are..&lt;br /&gt;chelsea: yah, so you can learn to hate yourself&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6227283?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6227283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6227283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6227283' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6226973</id><published>2001-10-09T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-09T20:17:32.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"...Over the course of several months, Whitley began to notice his son was missing, becuase he wasn't showing up to 'family events', such as dinner, and Monopoly Night. On one such faithful night, Whitley's wife Maranda, succeeded in getting hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk, bringing Whitley to a bitter defeat through unsalvageable mortgage debts."&lt;br /&gt; More to come from Dorian and Zach's insane fake oral book report...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6226973?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6226973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6226973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6226973' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6226923</id><published>2001-10-09T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-09T20:14:47.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Richard the Confused:  “Hah, yeah, right.  Next thing I know you’ll be telling me they have security cameras at school.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6226923?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6226923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6226923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6226923' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6207513</id><published>2001-10-08T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-09T19:49:13.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Now Richard, this is a web page not a private chat room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6207513?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6207513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6207513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6207513' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6207357</id><published>2001-10-08T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-08T19:41:17.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>steven valentino stole the backpage information from the onion. i've lost immense respect for that kid. and i remember the days that we were editing our pages and he played it off like he had come up with that "carson daly in way over his head" line.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6207357?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6207357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6207357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6207357' title=''/><author><name>donna.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16578814929615562952</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6207225</id><published>2001-10-08T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-08T19:34:37.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey Dorian, don’t tell Aubrey this, but I can tell which posts are hers.  Whenever the continual, albeit occasionally screwed up humour of Kevin, Zach and yourself, is disrupted in much the same way a train full of toxic waste disrupts the crossing of a pack of environmentalists, I know I’m reading one of her posts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6207225?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6207225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6207225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6207225' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6206758</id><published>2001-10-08T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-08T19:21:33.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Student, addressing the classroom:  “Here we have the Chico High School Newspaper.  I don’t think it was very appropriate for them to poke fun at the events of September 11th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard, thinking to himself:  “Hah, they don’t have colour on their paper.  That September 11th stuff looks familiar… where I have seen that before?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Student:  “They have this TV Guide thing and ‘Hugging up 7,000%’”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard, leaping to his feet:  “Hey!  That’s &lt;A HREF="http://www.theonion.com"&gt;The Onion&lt;/A&gt;!  What the hell?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest of class:  Blank stares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Richard:  “Good God, man!” gesticulating wildly, “&lt;A HREF="http://www.theonion.com"&gt;The Onion&lt;/A&gt;, don’t you get it?  Plagiarism!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6206758?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6206758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6206758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6206758' title=''/><author><name>Richard</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12951757632349907595</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6205982</id><published>2001-10-08T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-08T18:40:17.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Zach you sick fuck.  that was seriously the most repulsive thing i have ever read. Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently my cat had some uncontrolable desire to get into my CD wallet.  I walk into the room to find it going to hell on the white binder with  its teeth and claws and it takes me like a half an hour to pry her off and keep her away from it. I eventually put it in the other room and the cat started clawing at the door and moaning in a way that only my cat can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6205982?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6205982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6205982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6205982' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6204298</id><published>2001-10-08T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-08T17:28:01.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Sick Story Of The Day:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in math class when i heard this one. &lt;br /&gt;Ok, so this kid decides to pierced his own nipple with a safety pin. not the brightest idea. so he sticks the safety pin through his nipple, and when he is about to put the jewlery through the hole, he notices a small white string, hanging from his nipple. he wasnt sure how it got there, but he decides to pull it to get it off his nipple. he notices that the string is &lt;b&gt;IN&lt;/b&gt; his nipple!! he pulls the string more and decides to cut it off instead. after he cut it off, he passes out and shits his pants. &lt;br /&gt;The string that he was pulling turned out to be a nerve that was in his back, controlling his bowel movements, hence the shitting. he cut one of his own nerve endings off. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6204298?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6204298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6204298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6204298' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6202977</id><published>2001-10-08T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-08T16:30:52.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ok, so i was walking to go get a soda for some dinner i was having. i was in the computer room eating. i walk past something that caught my eye on the wall on the side of the kitchen. I had never seen this thing before. On closer examination i notice that it's a rack of spoons! we have a spoon collection! needless to say, it was a total mind fuck&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6202977?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6202977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6202977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6202977' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6185427</id><published>2001-10-07T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-07T22:34:15.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i have a poofy mohawk&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6185427?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6185427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6185427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6185427' title=''/><author><name>Zach</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16485035024266087948</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6182923</id><published>2001-10-07T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-07T20:25:51.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>that's all wonderful dorian. but who's band has still played at actual venues around chico and is GOING TO SEATTLE?! hmm? ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and i'm not even going to START about the fine qualities found under the skin of the band members in Stars Upon Thars. you'd just be blooooown away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;buahahahaahh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in other news. my ex boyfriend (nolan) is soon to pick me up to hang out. i think it's the whole "it's time we try to be friends and move on" hanging out. awwww yeahhh. fun shite. i better get some frozen yogurt outta this. hmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6182923?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6182923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6182923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6182923' title=''/><author><name>aubz</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08102436768616259715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3160075.post-6182779</id><published>2001-10-07T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2001-10-07T20:19:41.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hilarious runner up names for the popular emo band: Stars upon Thars:&lt;br /&gt;Moons A Cigar&lt;br /&gt;Mines and Coal Cars&lt;br /&gt;Aubreys Guitar&lt;br /&gt;Return of Jafar&lt;br /&gt;Death to the Czar&lt;br /&gt;Micks Towel Bar&lt;br /&gt;Nails and Wood Tar&lt;br /&gt;Tunisian Dinar&lt;br /&gt;Peach Granola Bar&lt;br /&gt;Prophets Demise&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3160075-6182779?l=eleven.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6182779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3160075/posts/default/6182779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eleven.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6182779' title=''/><author><name>Dorian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03725762925252386650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
