<?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-5354192</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:30:11.608-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Infected Papercut</title><subtitle type='html'>What are you lookin' at?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>380</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112658577369242590</id><published>2005-09-12T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T21:29:33.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adios.</title><summary type='text'>I'm done with Blogger. DONE! It's over. I'm out of here, folks.Instead you'll just have to catch up over at the new blog. That's right: I have my own dot com now. So update your bookmarks annnnd I'll see you over there!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112658577369242590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112658577369242590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112658577369242590' title='Adios.'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112611277948610156</id><published>2005-09-07T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T10:15:43.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Tell You Where You Can Put Your Policy</title><summary type='text'>I'm not much of a talker around people that I don't know well or have nothing in common with, and around people that I do know well I'm usually comfortable enough to sit in silence for long periods of time. I'm a quiet person. It doesn't mean I'm depressed, angry, or need to be poked and prodded into talking.Two things to be discussed here.First, there's this guy I work with. We'll call him "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112611277948610156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112611277948610156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112611277948610156' title='I&apos;ll Tell You Where You Can Put Your Policy'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112603747200028685</id><published>2005-09-06T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T13:12:53.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Katrina</title><summary type='text'>I still can't seem to find the words to adequately recognize everything those in New Orleans have gone through, and the subject of anything else pales in comparison. It's a bit surreal to me because I was just there. A few months ago I was walking down Canal Street on my way to get a cafe au lait at Cafe Du Monde. Now, I'm watching footage of people wading through the two feet or so of water on </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112603747200028685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112603747200028685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112603747200028685' title='Katrina'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112550760478049867</id><published>2005-08-31T09:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T10:05:50.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Temper Tantrums</title><summary type='text'>Let's talk about Buy Blue, shall we? It's a website that lists well-known companies in a number of different industries and advertises which political party they have endorsed in past elections. The idea is assist progressives in shopping only with the companies which donated toward the Democrats or didn't donate at all. I'm not a big fan of the idea. Why? Well.. it has a lot to do with the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112550760478049867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112550760478049867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112550760478049867' title='Temper Tantrums'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112537507564525549</id><published>2005-08-29T21:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T21:12:24.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>74 Years to Go</title><summary type='text'>Two Academics from the University of Pennsylvania have created a mortality calculator. My results prove with cruel irony that the more boring your life is the longer you'll be around to drudge through it. As long as they develop dentures that function through Twerpz consumption I'll have no complaints. Life Expectancy ResultsLife Expectancy: 94.31Lower Quartile : 87.96Median Lifetime: 96.43Upper </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112537507564525549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112537507564525549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112537507564525549' title='74 Years to Go'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112507435811757599</id><published>2005-08-26T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-26T09:52:43.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hoorah</title><summary type='text'>My last class of the day was canceled, I figured out how to trick the wifi monkey, and my sorethroat is gone! It's gonna be a good day.Friday Random Ten - Mellow with a pinch of Spastic   The First Single (Cause a Scene) - The Format   It's a Hit - Rilo Kiley   Trouble Sleeping - The Perishers   Move On - Mike Doughty   I'd Rather Dance With You - Kings of Convenience   Breakin' - The Music   </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112507435811757599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112507435811757599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112507435811757599' title='Hoorah'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112498694811513327</id><published>2005-08-25T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-25T09:22:28.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>D'oh</title><summary type='text'>It seems the college library has wifi. I sat down at a laptop table, reached for the cord resting next to the subtle "LAPTOP PORT ACTIVE" sign, and before I could plug it in AirPort screamed to life. "Do you want to join the wireless network 'library'?" Well.. of course! I clicked the appropriate button and I've been going crazy ever since. It's 4 bars one second, 1 bar the next, 2 bars, and then</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112498694811513327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112498694811513327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112498694811513327' title='D&apos;oh'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112483130912219150</id><published>2005-08-23T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-24T22:14:35.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Study in Going No Where</title><summary type='text'>Two months ago, I came home from a night at work to sit down in front of the television and watch a debate on CSPAN. It turned out to be a discussion over the Energy and Water Development Appropriations Act, 2006. Senator Feinstein of California brought to the table her amendment regarding the 4 million dollars appropriated in the bill for a feasibility study of Robust Nuclear Earth Penetrators. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112483130912219150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112483130912219150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112483130912219150' title='A Study in Going No Where'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112425463374175121</id><published>2005-08-16T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-16T22:01:01.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe It's a Southern Thing</title><summary type='text'>If there ever comes a time when a group of two or more people need to ask me a question, one of the people in that group will have a severe speech impediment. More often than not this is caused by the complete absence of teeth from that person's head.It never fails that the one person with the speech problem takes it upon his or herself to be the speaker for the group. Then that person gets mad </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112425463374175121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112425463374175121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112425463374175121' title='Maybe It&apos;s a Southern Thing'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112390588573981779</id><published>2005-08-12T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T21:09:01.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a Good Sign</title><summary type='text'>I've been keeping a close eye on the money I spend lately because of class starting back up. Yesterday I let myself fall back into the habit of eating my dinner at Burger King. It's on the same side of the road as the store, and I can get the food and drive back before my half hour lunch break is up. I know, I know.. it's not healthy, but the Bacon Double Cheeseburger is heaven. It makes me </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112390588573981779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112390588573981779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112390588573981779' title='Not a Good Sign'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112383116572582505</id><published>2005-08-11T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T10:07:39.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Insomnia Post</title><summary type='text'>This is one of the few times I've been able to sit through a full show featuring Bill Maher. I just don't find the guy's standup very funny. I don't know what it is... Tonight, he was on Larry King Live and... I liked it. It seems to be for the same reasons I was surprised to enjoy Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List. In her case, she's got great stories to tell on stage, but she's just too </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112383116572582505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112383116572582505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112383116572582505' title='Insomnia Post'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112365697867419595</id><published>2005-08-09T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T00:07:38.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and My Big Mouth</title><summary type='text'>Completely boring work post that deserves an LJ site dedicated to it.About a week ago, the store's assistant manager put out a notice in the weekly newsletter that anyone who could draw or paint should let him know. So... I did.The newsletter request was pertaining to a huge school display that ended up being trashed for being too huge an undertaking."Yesterday, both the assistant manager and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112365697867419595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112365697867419595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112365697867419595' title='Me and My Big Mouth'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112336215173510471</id><published>2005-08-06T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-06T14:02:31.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I forgot how lucky I was</title><summary type='text'>One particular coworker of mine transferred to a store a half hour away about a month ago. He's a really outgoing, lovable sort of guy and I've since convinced myself that work just isn't the same without him around.Yesterday he decided to stop by for a visit.What sort of crack was I smoking? Somehow I had completely forgotten about how he likes to scream, "HEY BOSS LADY!" from across the store </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112336215173510471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112336215173510471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112336215173510471' title='I forgot how lucky I was'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112312403617526991</id><published>2005-08-03T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T20:04:52.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Just In</title><summary type='text'>I'm writing this as I watch Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List on Bravo.I.... like it. I'm going to need a night to reflex on this.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112312403617526991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112312403617526991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112312403617526991' title='This Just In'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112310454086212101</id><published>2005-08-03T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T14:45:06.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Already Worn Out and I Haven't Even Started</title><summary type='text'>I'm slooooowly getting everything in order for the start of classes. My tuition has been paid for, and today I bought all my books. In case anyone's wondering what three weeks worth of pay looks like: There you go! Now all I have to do is find a decent bag that can carry my hefty Powerbook and grab all the 'usual' school supplies. Just under three weeks left until the real fun begins.Oh, and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112310454086212101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112310454086212101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112310454086212101' title='Already Worn Out and I Haven&apos;t Even Started'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112295928293902910</id><published>2005-08-01T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T22:08:02.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is the Official Notice</title><summary type='text'>Dear Anyone Who Ever Shops At The Store In Which I Work,There is NO RESTROOM in the backroom of the store. It's in the produce department, and, no, I have no idea why they put it there.Signed,   DooeyAt ten minutes 'til close, when putting the last of the stock away, it's not a great feeling to straighten up, turn around, and find a six-year-old staring at you with a vice grip on himself. That's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112295928293902910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112295928293902910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112295928293902910' title='This is the Official Notice'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112284070099369204</id><published>2005-07-31T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T13:15:41.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy, Nasty Weekend</title><summary type='text'>A next time I think I'll nab some pictures of Main Street when it's not raining. My windshield wiper made a cameo in this picture. This little shop has been closed and run down for quite a while now. I'm going to get a decent picture of it one of these days.You can just barely make out the skull and machine guns. Surprisingly I wasn't chased away by the bald biker that my imagination had created.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112284070099369204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112284070099369204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112284070099369204' title='Rainy, Nasty Weekend'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112275607831698986</id><published>2005-07-30T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T14:05:02.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't Please Everyone</title><summary type='text'>So you click on a link to one page then click on a link on that page and again on the next page, and before you know it you're on a livejournal page about Britney Spears' (Britney Federline's... whatever) new haircut. These things happen.Here ye! Here ye! Britney has cut her hair. For those that must know, sources also report she has plans to take a crap sometime in the near future. Keep those </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112275607831698986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112275607831698986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112275607831698986' title='Can&apos;t Please Everyone'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112267148284543453</id><published>2005-07-29T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:11:22.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fellow Motorists</title><summary type='text'>Is it really necessary to bring your vehicles to a complete stop when the emergency vehicles are going in the opposite direction on the other side of the road?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112267148284543453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112267148284543453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112267148284543453' title='Fellow Motorists'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112266227329724950</id><published>2005-07-29T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T11:37:53.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nuh uh Not Gonna Do It</title><summary type='text'>From August 8 to 31, each customer who tries on any pair of Gap's new jean fits -- three new fits for women and one for men -- will get a complimentary song from Apple's iTunes music store. [link]    I like iTunes, and I'm all about jeans, but there is no way in hell I'm going into the Gap. It's not on principle. I mean, I've just spent an hour chasing around the villagers of Fable to fart and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112266227329724950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112266227329724950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112266227329724950' title='Nuh uh Not Gonna Do It'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112249916327512010</id><published>2005-07-27T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T14:21:02.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Tough Being an Aunt</title><summary type='text'>My sister is due to have her second baby in December. She's already hinting to the fact that she "wouldn't mind too terribly" if we organized another baby shower for her.Now, everyone in the family has their own niche for presents. My parents usually buy the necessities -- diapers, wash cloths, plain white onesies, butt paste, etc. This way, they play the part of the loving, all-knowing parents </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112249916327512010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112249916327512010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112249916327512010' title='It&apos;s Tough Being an Aunt'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112240783967480646</id><published>2005-07-26T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T12:57:36.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Surreal Life</title><summary type='text'>I never saw Omarosa on The Apprentice, but now I've gotten a few peeks at her in The Surreal Life. Every so often in the "confessional" she'll take on this tone that I'm guessing is meant to sound alluring. When she goes there, I half expect her to grab hold of her hair and rip off her mask to reveal that Omarosa is actually Dennis Rodman in disguise.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112240783967480646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112240783967480646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112240783967480646' title='The Surreal Life'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112236070990353379</id><published>2005-07-25T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T00:01:20.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tax Nightmare</title><summary type='text'>Let's discuss MTV's Pimp My Ride for a moment..The 16th Amendment to the Constitution reads:The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes on incomes, from whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several States, and without regard to any census or enumeration. Furthermore, nestled among tax codes are a few more specific clauses:"Gross income includes amounts received as </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112236070990353379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112236070990353379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112236070990353379' title='Tax Nightmare'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112232566950435317</id><published>2005-07-25T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T14:07:49.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soliciting Holiness At the Crack of Dawn</title><summary type='text'>Fact: My parents once considered making our family Jehovah's Witnesses.Fact: My mother is still highly protective of the religious group.Having dealt with them and been dragged to services, I see the Jehovah's Witnesses as two different animals. One is the one that I saw with my own eyes. The other is the one that I know about from reading outside sources and certain excerpts from the Watchtower </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112232566950435317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112232566950435317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112232566950435317' title='Soliciting Holiness At the Crack of Dawn'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112232058057816575</id><published>2005-07-25T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T12:48:04.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dental Dilemma</title><summary type='text'>Once upon a time, I found myself sitting in a military hospital's emergency room sans front teeth. Over a decade later, a handful of dental specialists paid and forgotten, I'm nearly finished with my treatments. The one last decision I have to make is which whitening route I'm going to take before they take the final impressions. Option one, Crest White Strips for around $30 and worry about </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112232058057816575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112232058057816575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112232058057816575' title='Dental Dilemma'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112226168207086590</id><published>2005-07-24T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T20:21:22.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 18th Birthday Little Brother</title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112226168207086590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112226168207086590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112226168207086590' title='Happy 18th Birthday Little Brother'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112213725418754499</id><published>2005-07-23T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T09:58:56.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need to Stop Waking Up Early on Weekends</title><summary type='text'>Why do my parents start up one sided debates? I need a good half hour after waking up. At any point before the half hour mark you're find me half asleep and moving around like a zombie. It was at about the five minute mark that my father started in with, "You know what? Kids these days would be SET FOR LIFE if they put their energy and concentration into figuring out how to harness hydrogen as a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112213725418754499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112213725418754499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112213725418754499' title='I Need to Stop Waking Up Early on Weekends'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112206232528174271</id><published>2005-07-22T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-22T13:03:34.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Very Helpful</title><summary type='text'>Dear Mrs. "BK,"Thank you for the very informative email I found after opening my college-provided email account. It readsTo: ALL_STUDENTSTake advantage of Florida’s Tax Free Week in the College Stores. Textbooks, $50 and under, and a number of supply items are tax free.You can take advantage of tax free items Monday-Thursday, July 25-28, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, 8:30 a.m.-5 p.m. and Tuesday, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112206232528174271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112206232528174271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112206232528174271' title='So Very Helpful'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112192643174862170</id><published>2005-07-20T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T23:15:40.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Know I Love You When...</title><summary type='text'>... I'm sitting in front of the computer actually considering taking a 16 hour Greyhound bus trip to come get you and drive you home for a week or two.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112192643174862170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112192643174862170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112192643174862170' title='You Know I Love You When...'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112189170274975344</id><published>2005-07-20T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T13:36:50.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Bother</title><summary type='text'>I was reminded of my own good Samaritan dillema while reading Anna's account of her blood donation. The few times that I've mentioned I was thinking about donating blood, someone is sure to announce that I'm disqualified because I was in England around the time of the Mad Cow scares. I've since searched the American Red Cross' rules and regulations. You may not donate if you received a blood </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112189170274975344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112189170274975344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112189170274975344' title='Oh Bother'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112176163308718127</id><published>2005-07-19T01:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T01:29:01.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You'd Think It Would Go Without Saying...</title><summary type='text'>Net takes Potter fans on magical, frustrating ride The very thing that helped millions of Harry Potter fans around the globe get the latest book delivered to their doorsteps Saturday is also a source of frustration for some who don't want the plot spoiled--the Internet. I know a large part of the Potter fan base are teens my age or younger who have only recently picked up the art of reading. Have</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112176163308718127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112176163308718127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112176163308718127' title='You&apos;d Think It Would Go Without Saying...'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112171391542372423</id><published>2005-07-18T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T12:23:54.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss My Scholastic Ass</title><summary type='text'>The Florida lottery funds education and scholarships within the state. It does so to make the religious folk feel less guilty about throwing their money away for selfish reasons.Only, teachers here prefer not to receive lottery funding because then they take a cut in government funding and have harsh restrictions hanging over their head. As for myself, I lay claim to a 'Medallion' scholarship. It</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112171391542372423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112171391542372423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112171391542372423' title='Kiss My Scholastic Ass'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112166040778062622</id><published>2005-07-17T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-17T21:20:07.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've been patiently waiting to hear who the Republican's are pushing for a White House run in 2008. I need to know whether or not I should work up a good stomach ulcer. It seems like a large percentage of my fellow left-leaning friends have already decided to back Hillary when the next election swings around. I just can't jump on the bandwagon for this one. For once I actually have to agree with </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112166040778062622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112166040778062622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112166040778062622' title=''/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112145301767835893</id><published>2005-07-14T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-16T01:36:01.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boredom Roundup: Surfing through Del.icio.us</title><summary type='text'>The local cities and towns here are fairly anti-pedestrian, so I don't try moving around on foot near traffic lights. For those that do a lot of walking and find themselves waiting around at crosswalks, it seems there's a "hack" for most crosswalk buttons. Use at the risk of making yourself look like an impatient doofus. The most popular hack, which works on most models, is the "Instant Walk." </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112145301767835893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112145301767835893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112145301767835893' title='Boredom Roundup: Surfing through &lt;a href=&quot;http://del.icio.us/&quot;&gt;Del.icio.us&lt;/a&gt;'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112124300897671098</id><published>2005-07-11T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-13T01:29:18.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurricane Dennis aka Most Boring Post Ever</title><summary type='text'>Holy crack whore, Batman! This whole 'evacuation'-thing is overrated.My family sat out Hurricane Opal without taking any precautions. We didn't buy plywood, drinking water, batteries... anything. They realized very quickly that there was only one closet in the house that we could take cover in, but not all five of us (and a Rottweiler, at that time) would be able to fit for very long. Ever since </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112124300897671098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112124300897671098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112124300897671098' title='Hurricane Dennis &lt;i&gt;aka&lt;/i&gt; Most Boring Post Ever'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112086216222575447</id><published>2005-07-08T15:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T15:36:02.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drop Your Butt And Run</title><summary type='text'>Once again we're tucking our tail between our legs and running away from impending doom. We'll be sitting out Dennis from the comfort of my sister's apartment in Augusta.I'll be bringing along the laptop and digital camera to capture the panicked masses as we travel*. Best of luck to everyone sticking around. I'll see ya on the other side. *If it decides to let me, that is.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112086216222575447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112086216222575447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112086216222575447' title='Drop Your Butt And Run'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112086135222850579</id><published>2005-07-08T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T15:22:32.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Songs from the Year I was Born</title><summary type='text'>I'm picking up a meme started by AAYOR. Here goes nothing.. Glory Days - Bruce SpringsteenWe Built this City - Jefferson StarshipLike a Virgin - MadonnaA View to Kill - Duran DuranMoney for Nothing - Dire StraitsSome Heads Are Gonna Roll - Judas PriestDon't You (Forget About Me) - Simple MindsHeaven - Bryan AdamsEverytime You Go Away - Paul YoungSt. Elmo's Fire (Man In Motion) - John Parr Well </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112086135222850579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112086135222850579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112086135222850579' title='Ten Songs from the Year I was Born'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112080821114367954</id><published>2005-07-07T21:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T13:44:33.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing One's Patience</title><summary type='text'>Updated because my brain was beginning to hurt last nightI usually try to swing by Watchblog before I go to bed as part of a nightly routine. I have yet to figure out why I do this since most of the articles in the Conservative column frustrate me.Tonight it's articles at both ends of the spectrum. I understand that most posts to Watchblog are Op-Ed style, but I would hope they'd be a little more</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112080821114367954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112080821114367954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112080821114367954' title='Losing One&apos;s Patience'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112076872205364124</id><published>2005-07-07T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T14:01:41.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a Fan</title><summary type='text'>From kindergarten to just after fifth-grade, my lunches were exactly the same. Every. Single. Day. Soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwichLittle Debbie oatmeal creme pieCapri Sun Fruit Punch juice pouchPudding cup OR fruit cupSpoonFolded napkin Clearly, there's not much variety to be had, and I'll refrain from voicing my hatred towards those evil oatmeal creme pies. No, today I think I'll share my</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112076872205364124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112076872205364124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112076872205364124' title='Not a Fan'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112074640827384728</id><published>2005-07-07T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-07T07:26:48.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explosions in London</title><summary type='text'>My thoughts are with everyone in London right now.For anyone that's frustrated with the lack of news being reported on CNN, there are other places to keep updated.  BBC, London Underground, Londonist, This is London, and This is Local London</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112074640827384728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112074640827384728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112074640827384728' title='Explosions in London'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112067905597911781</id><published>2005-07-06T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T12:44:16.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanna Make Something of It?</title><summary type='text'>"If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing blog entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your weblog."[Stolen from Cheeky]</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112067905597911781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112067905597911781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112067905597911781' title='Wanna Make Something of It?'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112059747906489008</id><published>2005-07-05T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T12:45:16.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Link Dump</title><summary type='text'>I'm not quite sure what my feelings are on this. Is the bikini really necessary? Why have I been sitting here for five minutes watching "Tetka" fall and land in near-fatal positions? I'm going to have to do some strenuous testing of the program and get back to you.OK Go put Nsync and the Backstreet Boys to shame. Big time.I'm not much of a cat person, but I can see how cat owners might be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112059747906489008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112059747906489008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112059747906489008' title='Link Dump'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112059016799309485</id><published>2005-07-04T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T12:08:19.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 4th of July, Spent at Work</title><summary type='text'>In the two (three? I've never kept count) years that I've worked at my current "job", the only interaction I've had with the store's Produce Assistant Manager has been in passing. I usually try to flash a smile in place of a 'hello' and he usually ignores it. This works for me. I know absolutely nothing about the man except that he looks like Alton Brown's clone and that he walks with a swagger </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112059016799309485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112059016799309485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112059016799309485' title='The 4th of July, Spent at Work'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112038414490586589</id><published>2005-07-03T00:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-03T02:50:13.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Planning, Replanning, and then Forgetting before writing it down</title><summary type='text'>I'm continually updating and editing a mental list of places that I absolutely have to see when I leave on this massive roadtrip that's probably never going to happen.New York City, for example, is a place that I whole-heartedly plan to at least daydream about visiting. Excluding the obligatory sightseeing duties of being a tourist, there are the goals like seeing the Daily Show live, a Broadway </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112038414490586589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112038414490586589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112038414490586589' title='Planning, Replanning, and then Forgetting before writing it down'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112023995919151770</id><published>2005-07-01T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T10:45:59.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Time When I Think It's Okay to be Pessimistic</title><summary type='text'>I think I'm going to vomit, and the President's remarks aren't helping. Under the Constitution, I am responsible for nominating a successor to Justice O'Connor. Dubya, I am well aware. The nation also deserves a dignified process of confirmation in the United States Senate, characterized by fair treatment, a fair hearing and a fair vote. I think that roughly translates to: "Democrats, don't make </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112023995919151770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112023995919151770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112023995919151770' title='A Time When I Think It&apos;s Okay to be Pessimistic'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112019485366053202</id><published>2005-06-30T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T10:50:01.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Think I'll Pass</title><summary type='text'>According to jiwire, the only wifi spots in this town are in McDonald's. Who would want to pay $2.95 to sit for 2 hours in a McDonald's? Why? My curiosity is piqued.I'm trying to get my mind to come up with a worthwhile answer, but at the moment all it keeps sending back is an image of a modern-day slovenly Humbert Humbert typing away on his blog about what the redneck nymphets are doing in the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112019485366053202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112019485366053202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112019485366053202' title='I Think I&apos;ll Pass'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-112002375645610125</id><published>2005-06-28T22:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T22:42:36.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Note to self: Remember to stash a bloody hockey mask in the dairy cooler to wear specifically for the next time someone stoops down to peer through the milk and say, "Hey! Whew, I thought there were ghosts back there for a second! You're SHORT!"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112002375645610125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/112002375645610125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#112002375645610125' title=''/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111998797555804896</id><published>2005-06-28T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T12:55:59.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In dire need of a working digital camera</title><summary type='text'>Saturday, Anna and I took a quick day trip to New Orleans. Our main goal was to, first, make it there alive and then find Café Du Monde for café au laits and beignets.Two thumbs up for Anna who was absolutely terrified of driving in New Orleans. Not only did she get us to a parking garage, but then she played tour guide in leading me to the French Quarter.I'm afraid I don't have a lot of pictures</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111998797555804896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111998797555804896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111998797555804896' title='In dire need of a working digital camera'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111990101809944358</id><published>2005-06-27T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-27T12:36:58.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trusting My Peers</title><summary type='text'>Every time the next term rolls around I find myself creeping back to RateMyProfessors.com. I guess I have a sort of love/hate relationship with the site. I like to have as much of a heads up as possible if I have to register for a professor I've never heard of before. The site is my security blanket. That said..I know that the evaluations other students have made should be approached in much the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111990101809944358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111990101809944358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111990101809944358' title='Trusting My Peers'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111980532958637492</id><published>2005-06-26T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T10:52:27.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharks</title><summary type='text'>At the moment, there is one particular news story that's the talk of the town here for obvious reasons. I wish that there could be some sort of Gulf Reporting 101 class that reporters and news anchors have to take in order to talk about stories like this. Yesterday I heard an anchor say, "Well I would assume this came as a surprise to everyone because there were no reports of shark sightings." No</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111980532958637492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111980532958637492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111980532958637492' title='Sharks'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111955292431926790</id><published>2005-06-23T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T12:05:53.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Spam on the Way</title><summary type='text'>Is there some sort of "Do Not Call" list I can get on for this? With the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan making it increasingly hard for the U.S. military to fill its ranks with recruits, the Pentagon has hired an outside marketing firm to help compile an extensive database about teenagers and college students that the military services could use to target potential enlistees.The initiative, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111955292431926790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111955292431926790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111955292431926790' title='More Spam on the Way'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111951393040094719</id><published>2005-06-23T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-23T01:08:15.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Another Step and I'll Order all the Squirrels in the Yard On You</title><summary type='text'>Comebacknikki hit me with a tag! Here's the first five that come to mind for me.5 Things I miss about childhood:Imagination. Well I think I have a pretty good imagination, but it's nothing like it was when I was little. I remember sitting out on the driveway, surrounded by broken toys that I had converted into a huge computer command center. It was from there that I routed mission information to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111951393040094719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111951393040094719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111951393040094719' title='Take Another Step and I&apos;ll Order all the Squirrels in the Yard On You'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111946097806186663</id><published>2005-06-22T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-22T10:31:10.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whose Got Gas?</title><summary type='text'>  A few posts ago I told everyone not to buy gas from a particular gas station in the area. Yesterday, my parents had their car rather unceremoniously dropped back into their lap by the garage that it had been sent it to.First, they explained to my mother that there wasn't much they could do, the fuel line was a wreck, and that she should just sell it and buy a new car. Then, before she could </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111946097806186663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111946097806186663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111946097806186663' title='Whose Got Gas?'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111930116487018468</id><published>2005-06-20T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T13:59:24.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten People with B.A.'s in B.S.</title><summary type='text'>So I slept in and missed the store's 6am "Benefits" meeting. I'm sorry.I'm sorry, okay!? If one more manager hunts me down to ask if I knew that I missed the meeting and wants to know why I missed it, I'm going to lose my mind. That's only supposed to happen in Office Space, folks. Did you not get that memo?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111930116487018468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111930116487018468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111930116487018468' title='Ten People with B.A.&apos;s in B.S.'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111916509159264385</id><published>2005-06-18T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T00:15:40.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Get me a jury and show me how you can say 'in July' and I'll go down on you"</title><summary type='text'>In my boredom I've found a link at MilkandCookies that is supposed to be funny but I find it to be incredibly depressing. It's outtakes of Orson Welles reading a script for some commercial. The man revolutionized the way movies were made with Citizen Kane and here he was flat broke, depending on voiceovers for commercials. Bleh.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111916509159264385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111916509159264385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111916509159264385' title='&quot;Get me a jury and show me how you can say &apos;&lt;u&gt;&lt;i&gt;in&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/u&gt; July&apos; and I&apos;ll go down on you&quot;'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111907178273472764</id><published>2005-06-17T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-17T22:34:28.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Memo</title><summary type='text'>I think this is what people use Upcoming for, but I'm a rebel.Next Friday, June 24th, Anna and I have decided to take a kayaking trip down the Blackwater River. If you're reading this, you're invited to come. If you show up and decide that you don't like the company that you're keeping, we'll totally understand if you paddle off into the sunset and enjoy the scenery by yourself.For those of you </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111907178273472764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111907178273472764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111907178273472764' title='Social Memo'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111882205489331565</id><published>2005-06-14T23:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-16T13:41:59.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Open Letter to Hollywood</title><summary type='text'>I don't think I'm done with the topic of celebrities just yet. When my sister was here visiting, I happened to have been watching TV with her when she changed the channel to VH1. They were having some sort of documentary-like program on the Paparazzi vs. Celebrities. It's inspired me.Dear Celebrities,I can't help but feel a little responsible for the horrible plight that you face.  See, you're </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111882205489331565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111882205489331565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111882205489331565' title='An Open Letter to Hollywood'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111877672022157626</id><published>2005-06-14T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-15T00:55:57.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Attention Gas Guzzlers</title><summary type='text'>A word to the wise for my fellow Crestuckians, Do not buy your gas from the Tom Thumb on John King Road. My parents' car had to be towed to the nearby Ford garage because it decided to stop working, and now my car is showing similar symptoms -- bogging down and generally resembling a bucking bronco. Evidently, water from the nearby reservoir* has been and possibly still is leaking into the fuel </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111877672022157626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111877672022157626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111877672022157626' title='Attention Gas Guzzlers'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111863739566384512</id><published>2005-06-12T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-12T21:40:49.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Complaining Continues</title><summary type='text'>How am I supposed to take the FBI warnings and the idiotic "You wouldn't steal a baby.." PSAs seriously when nearly all forms of media are conditioning me to hate celebrities?You pick up a magazine and read something to the effect of "Celebrities are just like us! Here we see Cameron Diaz relaxing on the beach of some beautiful island  (which you'll never be seeing, so memorize this picture) and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111863739566384512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111863739566384512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111863739566384512' title='And the Complaining Continues'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111844841344825152</id><published>2005-06-10T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-10T17:10:09.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoot me In the Face</title><summary type='text'>Have I mentioned I hate Destin? Because I really, really hate it. I'm currently basking in the knowledge that 1) the city is about to get beat on by a tropical storm (hurricane?) for a day or so and 2) it's one letter away from having been named after diaper rash cream.I seem to be a giant mass of human repellent for good customer service. First there was that Olympus thing, then there was an </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111844841344825152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111844841344825152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111844841344825152' title='Shoot me &lt;i&gt;In the Face&lt;/i&gt;'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111826226831980711</id><published>2005-06-08T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T14:01:13.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Note to the Tourists*</title><summary type='text'>Contrary to what the salivating businessmen would have you believe, the art of henna is not native to Florida. Not even a little bit.If you walk inside one of those hellholes you deserve to, first, be ripped off and then sit down and work on your world culture knowledge.*By tourist, I mean anyone who goes to the beach and acts in the following way: 1. Henna tattoos? WE HAVE TO GET ONE!2. A Bass </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111826226831980711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111826226831980711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111826226831980711' title='A Note to the Tourists*'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111812274691449524</id><published>2005-06-06T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T22:39:13.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joke's on Me</title><summary type='text'>Son. of. a. bitch.  Years of speculation came to an end Monday, when Steve Jobs announced that Apple will be switching to Intel chips for its Mac line of PCs. Exactly 22 days after I make the dive and buy a Mac, they decide to go with Intel chips. This makes for a record breaking entry in the Ellsworth Family Book of Bad Luck.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111812274691449524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111812274691449524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111812274691449524' title='The Joke&apos;s on Me'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111810436976541292</id><published>2005-06-06T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T17:32:49.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger</title><summary type='text'>Calla made a great post about Darfur, Sudan. I encourage everyone to swing by her place and take a look at it.The mere topic of Sudan alone should be cause for alarm and anger. It's at the center of why I see Mr. Bush as a man of many, many contradictions.Thanks to Sudan's civil war, well over 2 million have starved, over a million children are used as soldiers for the militant armies, over </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111810436976541292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111810436976541292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111810436976541292' title='Anger'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111804016405977697</id><published>2005-06-05T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T23:46:18.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Dream of is Panic Attacks</title><summary type='text'>My sister has some of the best dreams I've ever heard. Maybe I have the same sort of dreams but I just can't remember any of them. I don't know what it is, but I'm envious.Her most recent dream involved George Clooney, Orlando Bloom (as Legolas from the LotR movies), and Brad Pitt. All three of them were "good" vampires battling against "bad" vampires. See, the bad ones decided that they were </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111804016405977697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111804016405977697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111804016405977697' title='All I Dream of is Panic Attacks'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111786593132704976</id><published>2005-06-03T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-03T23:31:13.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a Fan</title><summary type='text'>It almost goes without saying that I have never been a fan of Santa.So I won't say it. Instead, I'm sharing my thoughts eighteen years after this wonderful polaroid was taken. First and foremost, this is just one in my mother's miniature collection of "Gwyn and Santa" pictures. She chooses to frame these and put them around her room all year round. Thanks Mom.Every time I see this, I can't help </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111786593132704976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111786593132704976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111786593132704976' title='Not a Fan'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111781881446485506</id><published>2005-06-03T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-03T10:49:15.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Let Your Camera Break</title><summary type='text'>What follows is a very calm rant. You probably won't find it interesting, and I wouldn't read it either if I were you.My sister has had her Olympus Superzoom 90 for about a year now. It's a plain old 35mm camera that has just enough digital features to make it a true pain in the butt if anything goes wrong with it.The other day, my sister picked it up to take a picture of my nephew. When she </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111781881446485506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111781881446485506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111781881446485506' title='Don&apos;t Let Your Camera Break'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111759923114807769</id><published>2005-05-31T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T21:35:36.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate Politicians... and their Leader</title><summary type='text'>What I am about to hack up and paste for you is the precise reason I have absolutely no intention of being a politician, should I follow through and get a political science degree.Tucked away in the 96-page emergency military spending bill signed by President Bush this month are four paragraphs that give energy companies the right to explore for oil and gas inside a sprawling national park.The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111759923114807769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111759923114807769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111759923114807769' title='I Hate Politicians... and their Leader'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111755372426074797</id><published>2005-05-31T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T08:36:59.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Mascot's Got Balls</title><summary type='text'>This is my old high school's mascot. He stands out in front of the school, supposedly scaring the pants off of other schools. Supposedly.I know the effect that the art department was going for, and I commend them for how close they got. Personally though, it looks to me like the dog's cartoon-like scrotum is attached to his chin.There. I've said it. I can go on with my life.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111755372426074797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111755372426074797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111755372426074797' title='That Mascot&apos;s Got Balls'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111725720267234474</id><published>2005-05-27T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T22:19:33.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weirded Out</title><summary type='text'>On a perfect day, my "commute" to work takes under five minutes. On days when there's heavy traffic the time jumps to just over ten minutes, not bad a'tall. Today happened to be one of heavy traffic. I was patiently sitting, waiting for the cars ahead of me to move when I heard muffled yelling coming from the car next to me. I looked over in time to see the big burly driver lift his camera phone </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111725720267234474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111725720267234474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111725720267234474' title='Weirded Out'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111717438826202463</id><published>2005-05-26T23:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T23:13:53.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Afraid of Color</title><summary type='text'>I dove into the blog's template because the amount of lines that were CSS'd into the design were driving me crazy (under the section headers, the dividers, etc). Once I was there, I decided to change to a white look. White or black, that's all your going to get, people. At least until I get around to* buying a domain for myself.*Heh, sure. That's gonna happen.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111717438826202463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111717438826202463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111717438826202463' title='Afraid of Color'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111716902630270700</id><published>2005-05-26T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-26T21:43:46.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Googler</title><summary type='text'>To the guy or gal who has arrived here by searching for "Real Men of Genius sunscreen" three times on Google and once on Yahoo in the past 5 minutes:GIVE UP ALREADY! This blog is obviously not presenting the results you're looking for. Suck it up and move along.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111716902630270700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111716902630270700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111716902630270700' title='Dear Googler'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111704837020076915</id><published>2005-05-25T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T13:38:33.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Young George</title><summary type='text'>A gem for all the Star Wars fans out there.And completely unrelated, a bizarre music video.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111704837020076915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111704837020076915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111704837020076915' title='Young George'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111703972341779492</id><published>2005-05-25T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T09:59:15.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hand that Feeds</title><summary type='text'>I love Ryan. He's like a former drum major to me. A great pal who sat behind me in AP psychology who happened to have a particular interest in all things sexual in the textbook discussion. Politically, we have absolutely nothing in common, but that's okay! We're both cool with that. So Ryan recently posted about his viewpoint of liberals. As I'm prone to do, I'm going to debate bits and pieces of</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111703972341779492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111703972341779492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111703972341779492' title='The Hand that Feeds'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111699714829148687</id><published>2005-05-24T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T13:39:36.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Be Frightened..</title><summary type='text'>The Apple people need to come up with a better place for instructions to this Powerbook than in the Powerbook Instruction Booklet. I mean, c'mon... that's just a silly place to put them.See, I've fallen in love with Garageband. It's the most wonderful invention on this planet*. I don't have to know a thing about pitch, tempo, chords, etc, etc. I just click and drag loops into place until I come </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111699714829148687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111699714829148687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111699714829148687' title='Don&apos;t Be Frightened..'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111690969857287246</id><published>2005-05-23T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-23T21:52:31.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmm.. Grease</title><summary type='text'>Can someone explain the allure of Waffle House to me? Personally, I have yet to eat at any Waffle House and find myself thinking, "Wow... this is mildly edible! I think I want to come back in the near future!" I mean.. I'm a college student. Supposedly, I'm engineered to be drawn to the place like a moth to a flame. Yet, I'm not; I think I'm broken. Is there a return policy for this?Just look at </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111690969857287246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111690969857287246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111690969857287246' title='Mmm.. Grease'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111674155739600001</id><published>2005-05-21T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-21T22:59:17.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bookworm Meme</title><summary type='text'>Doozie tagged me.1. Total number of books owned?Whew.. that's a good question. I'll have to get back to you on that one.2. The last book you bought?Wicked.. I think. Don't quote me on that one.3. The last book you read?Wicked4. Five books that mean a lot to me:Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss -- First book that I learned to read. I quickly memorized it and verbally terrorized my parents.MLA </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111674155739600001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111674155739600001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111674155739600001' title='Bookworm Meme'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111665829397033094</id><published>2005-05-20T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-20T23:51:33.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's Lookin' At You Bill</title><summary type='text'> Goodbye: spyware, viruses, right click, and finicky computers.I'm happily typing this on my new 15" Powerbook. It's not the iBook I said it be, but that's a loooong story. Needless to say, I'm a very happy convert.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111665829397033094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111665829397033094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111665829397033094' title='Here&apos;s Lookin&apos; At You Bill'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111639744778216001</id><published>2005-05-17T23:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-17T23:24:07.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Best Picture Ever. Now, I have to get some sleep and try to prepare myself for the 6 hour drive tomorrow. Driving through Alabama should require a zen concentration class.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111639744778216001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111639744778216001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111639744778216001' title=''/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111627609425106620</id><published>2005-05-16T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T13:41:34.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meme: Good Things Happen in 3s</title><summary type='text'>CheekyProf tagged me for this one3 names you go by:- Dooey- Gwyn- Do You Work Here?3 screennames you've had (besides blog pseudonym):- nomatophobic1 (current AIM s/n)- spazoid- imhere2tickuoff (the old s/n I'd use when venturing into political voicechat rooms on Yahoo)3 physical things you like about yourself:- the bump on my left middle finger. (Being a lefty is fun. It's a pity the right handed</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111627609425106620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111627609425106620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111627609425106620' title='Meme: Good Things Happen in 3s'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111597080204501886</id><published>2005-05-13T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-13T01:52:56.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"That would Own"</title><summary type='text'>I don't know why, but nearly every week I find myself marching back to Group Hug to read the recent entries.I never enter any confessions of my own. I think this is partly due to the fact it's the reason I started a blog in the first place and because I don't have anything heart-wrenching or life-altering to feel the need to share anonymously.The allure of the site is the fact that there seems to</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111597080204501886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111597080204501886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111597080204501886' title='&quot;That would Own&quot;'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111596890215267634</id><published>2005-05-13T00:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-14T07:25:53.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Didn't See That Coming?</title><summary type='text'>I am: 2% Republican.&lt;!-- --&gt;You're a complete liberal, utterly without a trace of Republicanism. Your strength is as the strength of ten because your heart is pure. (You hope.)Are You A Republican? [found at sex is bad]</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111596890215267634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111596890215267634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111596890215267634' title='Who Didn&apos;t See That Coming?'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111587962898751217</id><published>2005-05-11T23:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T23:41:05.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tastes Like Burning</title><summary type='text'>"Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson came over the air waves recently, and in this song she sings that she wants to "feel the rush of the ocean." I didn't know that this was a popular goal, but I feel I should set this record straight. You do not want to feel the rush. Ever.First off, I will say that I live on the Gulf of Mexico so it's not quite an ocean, but close enough to share my opinion and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111587962898751217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111587962898751217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111587962898751217' title='Tastes Like Burning'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111583956396062752</id><published>2005-05-11T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T12:26:04.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Turning the Tables</title><summary type='text'>I encourage everyone to swing by Hippie's to read her most recent post. What do you think has caused you to be heterosexual?When and how did you first decide you were a heterosexual?Is it possible your heterosexuality stems from a neurotic fear of people of the same sex?If you've never slept with a person of the same sex, how do you know you wouldn't prefer it?Isn't it possible your </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111583956396062752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111583956396062752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111583956396062752' title='Turning the Tables'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111583686312198008</id><published>2005-05-11T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T11:45:58.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuse Me While I Do a Happy Dance</title><summary type='text'> I won a contest! I never win contests! Never. So now I get to gloat.It appears I was the first one to correctly answer that Jonathan Donahue's pseudonym, while in The Flaming Lips, was "Dingus."The Morning News and V2 Records sent me a cardstock poster for the Doves / Mercury Rev tour, a cd for the single "In a Funny Way", a cd for the single "Across yer Ocean", the "In a Funny Way" 7", the "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111583686312198008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111583686312198008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111583686312198008' title='Excuse Me While I Do a Happy Dance'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111549687006463954</id><published>2005-05-07T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-07T13:14:30.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Apple Gestation Period</title><summary type='text'>Guess who is well on her way to getting a 12in iBook G4?Your one finger salute is coming, Mr. Gates. Soon, Bill. Soon.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111549687006463954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111549687006463954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111549687006463954' title='The Apple Gestation Period'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111545196347068677</id><published>2005-05-07T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-07T00:52:24.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh No You Just Didn't</title><summary type='text'>Overheard coming from the aisle I'd just finished straightening:Tisha! Would you look? Everything is so perfect! It just makes me wanna... [Sound of boxes being knocked over] Ah, that's refreshing! Come on y'all! Try it! If there were a gun within arms reach, I would have gone postal on their redneck asses. [/boring work-related post]</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111545196347068677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111545196347068677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111545196347068677' title='Oh No You Just Didn&apos;t'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111527893966804568</id><published>2005-05-05T00:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T00:14:08.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pass the Syrup</title><summary type='text'>A present for chrk and anyone else that has a special place in their heart for ninjas.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111527893966804568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111527893966804568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111527893966804568' title='Pass the Syrup'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111524125711271843</id><published>2005-05-04T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-04T14:14:17.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Smoke Doesn't Lie</title><summary type='text'>This is going to be yet another story about Walmart. Before I begin, let me first say that I do not go to that evil place as often as it may seem here. It just so happens that when I do go, something evil always happens to me. A week or so ago, I found myself pulling into the Walmart parking lot at just before midnight. My parents had asked me to pick up a few groceries -- milk, butter, and bread</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111524125711271843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111524125711271843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111524125711271843' title='The Smoke Doesn&apos;t Lie'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111497557820731654</id><published>2005-05-01T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T12:30:04.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Occupational Meme via Dread Pirate Rob-- err, Jim</title><summary type='text'>What follows is a list of different occupations. You must select at least five of them. You may add more if you like to your list before you pass it on (after you select five of the items as it was passed to you).Of the five you selected, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession. Then pass it on to three other bloggers.Here's that list:If I could be a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111497557820731654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111497557820731654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111497557820731654' title='Occupational Meme via Dread Pirate Rob-- err, &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.jimintonic.com/&quot; target=&quot;_top&quot;&gt;Jim&lt;/a&gt;'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111476542213693432</id><published>2005-04-29T02:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-29T02:09:21.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate My Computer</title><summary type='text'>This is why I have to achieve #9 and #10 on the list of goals over on the left:[If you were sitting behind me in my bedroom you'd hear this conversation between me, myself, and a disfunctional Dell.]Me: It's only 3:45 and I'm already getting sleepy. Myself: Not good..Me: Definitely not good. Myself: Better turn on some hideous tunes to get this last paper done. Any ideas?Me: Ratatat?Myself: Meh..</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111476542213693432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111476542213693432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111476542213693432' title='I Hate My Computer'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111474345881281987</id><published>2005-04-28T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T19:57:38.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I had no idea the ESPY awards had skits like this. I am so watching them from now on.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111474345881281987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111474345881281987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111474345881281987' title=''/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111470151696072151</id><published>2005-04-28T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T08:28:21.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He Just Wants to Dance... In a Forest</title><summary type='text'>I have just a few thoughts on this. The keyboard player's hip moves could put Tony Manero to shame. Well, if it were not for the fact that he's apparently lost in the Appalachian MountainsThe drummer's glasses are pure sex."Faux Native American Dancer #2" must be an alluring entry in any dancer's resumé.That smile. Can't look away. Must. Buy. Buckskin. And make beaded bikini.The song just </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111470151696072151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111470151696072151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111470151696072151' title='He Just Wants to Dance... In a Forest'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111467467171349994</id><published>2005-04-28T00:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-28T01:04:03.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Missed It</title><summary type='text'>Today, at approximately 12:45pm CST you (yes, you) missed the best college presentation ever given. EVER. Don't argue, just trust me. And in a MATH course, of all places.In place of a final exam in my Math for Liberal Arts class*, all of us had to do individual projects on how some hobby was affected by math. It was, in a word, retarded. It was a blatantly obvious attempt by our professor to give</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111467467171349994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111467467171349994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111467467171349994' title='You Missed It'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111463545550447263</id><published>2005-04-27T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-27T14:01:51.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Note Before I'm Off to Work</title><summary type='text'>What can I say, my parents have green thumbs.Unfortunately, the gene skipped my siblings and myself. Instead, I got the "I know how to operate the internet and open a flickr account" gene. The pictures are mostly for a few friends that the parental units have recently gotten in touch with, but if you enjoy gardens you're welcome to peruse the gallery as well. The twelve pictures on there don't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111463545550447263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111463545550447263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111463545550447263' title='A Note Before I&apos;m Off to Work'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111457057014664281</id><published>2005-04-26T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T20:04:14.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Just In: Not Good at Deductive Reasoning</title><summary type='text'>My last day off was last Thursday. As luck would or would not have it, my sister and brother-in-law just so happened to being leaving on that very day. Being the genius and loving sister that I am, I decided that I didn't want to spend their last full day here, Wednesday, at work and planned on calling in. Wednesday afternoon rolled around and when I got home from class I called my boss and told </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111457057014664281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111457057014664281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111457057014664281' title='This Just In: Not Good at Deductive Reasoning'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111437542670434271</id><published>2005-04-24T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-26T06:36:37.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Only in My Family: A True Story</title><summary type='text'>My mom is one of those people who absolutely refuses to step out into a storm without an umbrella. I'm one of those people who calculates the distance from the car to the nearest dry area and weighs whether or not running will get me completely soaked as opposed to wrestling an umbrella open. My mother and I butt heads on this topic constantly; nine times out of ten, we do so after parking our </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111437542670434271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111437542670434271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111437542670434271' title='Only in My Family: A True Story'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111431656619359197</id><published>2005-04-23T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-24T13:06:42.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mark My Words</title><summary type='text'>I've decided; It's final: I have to buy a digital video camera, grab my own web domain, and go on a road trip across America over the summer. I have to do this because of "Godhopping" by Dogs Die in Hot Cars. That song is going to be the soundtrack for the 2 minute and 46 odd seconds of video featuring myself and a friend or two making fools of ourselves. My life isn't going to be complete </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111431656619359197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111431656619359197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111431656619359197' title='Mark My Words'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111429126309234010</id><published>2005-04-23T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-23T21:15:10.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Open Letter</title><summary type='text'>Dear Woman Who Was Shopping Last Night,         Kudos on your date. He's nice and all and seems to be thoroughly interested in you. Cute too, which is always a plus. His interest in you though... that's sort of why I'm writing you. I'm no psychic, but I'd wager a guess that myself and everyone within 20 feet of you knew exactly why he seemed so interested. 1. You were wearing a wife beater with a</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111429126309234010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111429126309234010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111429126309234010' title='Open Letter'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111418421847559447</id><published>2005-04-22T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-22T08:42:02.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Die, Dickies</title><summary type='text'>I won't go so far as to declare my wholehearted hatred of the entire line of Dickies clothing, but I will say that the single pair of Dickies pants that I own is going to die a very painful death in about three hours. I was under the assumption that Dickies were originally created as tough work clothes. So, why did they design these particular pants as low rise, skin-tight, bell bottoms? The only</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111418421847559447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111418421847559447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111418421847559447' title='Die, Dickies'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5354192.post-111393276781392481</id><published>2005-04-19T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-19T21:54:57.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sign of the End of Times</title><summary type='text'>"What's that one movie set in Mars or something it's got, um, what's his name? Oh.. you know.. the governor of California?""Total Recall""Right"-- Overheard between my brother-in-law and my father Depressing.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111393276781392481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5354192/posts/default/111393276781392481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dooeypig.blogspot.com/index.html#111393276781392481' title='Sign of the End of Times'/><author><name>Dooey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08373586056534350928</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='26' src='http://photos11.flickr.com/16940948_a7a6ee5339_t.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
