<?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-32027673</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:19:14.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sean's Memes</title><subtitle type='html'>This be where I answer meme questions, dawg!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-4313582693735639835</id><published>2007-11-27T02:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T02:14:46.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heads Or Tails #17 - Mark</title><content type='html'>For those of you who don't know, I recently graduated college and I've just started my budding career, ready to climb the corporate ladder. I'm certain that many of you readers are already well on your way, and perhaps some of you haven't even started yet. Whatever the case, I'm off to good start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One strategy I've taken is straight out of the instinctual text book: marking my territory. I started out with hand-me-down equipment, like an old crummy computer, and 4-walled cubicle (I have to take down a wall to get in) a hundred and one pencils with the erasers used up. I found that by urinating on the things I want, however, eventually people would gather a distaste for the items and give them up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've only been working a few months, and I already have the fastest computer, the nicest pens, and a kick-ass leather chair. Only down side is that my cube smells like piss. :-/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-4313582693735639835?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://skittles0366.blogspot.com/2007/11/heads-or-tails-17-mark.html' title='Heads Or Tails #17 - Mark'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/4313582693735639835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=4313582693735639835' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/4313582693735639835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/4313582693735639835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/heads-or-tails-17-mark.html' title='Heads Or Tails #17 - Mark'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-5003675070085028160</id><published>2007-11-19T05:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T05:31:06.239-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Parenting choice</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;If you could be the parent of one famous person, who would you want it to be?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jim Gaffigan convinced me that being the father of the Pope would be totally awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed flashvars="videoId=41909" src="http://www.comedycentral.com/sitewide/video_player/view/default/swf.jhtml" quality="high" bgcolor="#cccccc" name="comedy_central_player" allowscriptaccess="always" allownetworking="external" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" align="middle" height="316" width="332"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-5003675070085028160?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://thatsmyanswer.com/2007/11/19/parenting-choice/' title='Parenting choice'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/5003675070085028160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=5003675070085028160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/5003675070085028160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/5003675070085028160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/parenting-choice.html' title='Parenting choice'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-5194435760027220044</id><published>2007-11-19T04:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T04:22:37.677-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Manic Monday for November 19, 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What is your least favorite day of the week and why?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one's hard because they're all my favorite! Actually, this raises the question: Is there an antonym for favorite? As far as nouns go... not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What's the best way to end the day?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way to end the day is with a full-hearted high-five. I've been a big advocate of bringing back the high-five, and with good reason. I mean, would you rather end your day with a hug, or a handshake. Then again, sex &lt;i&gt;might&lt;/i&gt; be better than a high five.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, I'll change my answer to &lt;b&gt;hot, wild sex&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Which animal would you have left out of the ark?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you kidding me? The damn dinosaurs. I'm sure God's plan was to have all the animals of old reproduce in the new world. I can't even guess how many species were eradicated from existence before Noah managed to throw the thunder lizards off his ship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-5194435760027220044?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://manicmondaymeme.blogspot.com/2007/11/manic-monday-for-november-19-2007.html' title='Manic Monday for November 19, 2007'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/5194435760027220044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=5194435760027220044' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/5194435760027220044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/5194435760027220044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/manic-monday-for-november-19-2007.html' title='Manic Monday for November 19, 2007'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-3900114875882420662</id><published>2007-11-08T04:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T04:07:26.812-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Word association</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Someone says &lt;/strong&gt;now&lt;strong&gt; and I think&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;deadline&lt;br /&gt;hurry&lt;br /&gt;time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So, tell us, what do you think when I say &lt;/strong&gt;now&lt;strong&gt;?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;*yawn*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-3900114875882420662?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://thatsmyanswer.com/2007/11/08/word-association-27/' title='Word association'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/3900114875882420662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=3900114875882420662' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/3900114875882420662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/3900114875882420662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/word-association.html' title='Word association'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-5736878679191075366</id><published>2007-11-08T03:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T03:55:04.994-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3x Thursday: 11/08/y2k+7: Randomness</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;1. Weather you have kids or not, if you were given a kid to take care of (say, it *had* to go to you for whatever reason), would you raise it? Why/why not?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard that the human brain is a computer, and I firmly believe this is true, so I'd definitely love to be given a kid to raise. It would surely be better than getting an adult with all its preloaded software. It probably wouldn't even be able to run cool games like Bioshock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. How do you feel about pain meds? Do you like them? Do you condone the use of them for anything other than what they were prescribed for? Why/why not?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the shoe fits, wear it. Pain medication is good for what its prescribed for, but if it works for other purposes, then why not use it? I mean, they could be good substitute for poker chips, or you could give them to your kids with some Elmer's glue to make some macaroni-esque pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. What's your favorite kid movie? Why?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite kid movie has to be that new James Bond movie, Casino Royale. It's only a year or so old, but its mature beyond its year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-5736878679191075366?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.hairmetalqueen.com/3xThursday.html' title='3x Thursday: 11/08/y2k+7: Randomness'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/5736878679191075366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=5736878679191075366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/5736878679191075366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/5736878679191075366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/3x-thursday-1108y2k7-randomness.html' title='3x Thursday: 11/08/y2k+7: Randomness'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-3810826126532413199</id><published>2007-11-08T00:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T00:28:27.654-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Many ???</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The person before you has asked How Many??? You’ll answer their question in the comments as well as ask the next person a How Many ??? question. The next person answers their question, and asks another, etc…..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zero. See, earlier tonight I was at a bar and I bet a man all the money in my wallet that he couldn’t name all 150 Pokemon. Well he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many Pokemon can you name?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-3810826126532413199?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://thatsmyanswer.com/2007/11/08/how-many-31/' title='How Many ???'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/3810826126532413199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=3810826126532413199' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/3810826126532413199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/3810826126532413199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-many.html' title='How Many ???'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-3680558655416430750</id><published>2007-11-07T03:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T03:35:20.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hump Day Hunt - Week Ninety-Four</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Our word for this week is: Spooky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-aRlM7nXGM4/RzF4Qnnwu7I/AAAAAAAAALs/pVxyIZ70cgo/s320/IMG_1318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130013677460700082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fetalsteve.com/"&gt;Fetal Steve&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-3680558655416430750?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://fotopherrets.blogspot.com/2007/10/hump-day-hunt-week-ninety-four.html' title='Hump Day Hunt - Week Ninety-Four'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/3680558655416430750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=3680558655416430750' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/3680558655416430750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/3680558655416430750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/hump-day-hunt-week-ninety-four.html' title='Hump Day Hunt - Week Ninety-Four'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-aRlM7nXGM4/RzF4Qnnwu7I/AAAAAAAAALs/pVxyIZ70cgo/s72-c/IMG_1318.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-819999628851071490</id><published>2007-11-07T01:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T01:57:35.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WWYD</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What would you do if someone died in your living room?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I would laugh at the irony.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-819999628851071490?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://thatsmyanswer.com/2007/11/07/wwyd-8/' title='WWYD'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/819999628851071490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=819999628851071490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/819999628851071490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/819999628851071490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/wwyd.html' title='WWYD'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-1313385123856673607</id><published>2007-11-06T03:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T03:41:15.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reputations, would you rather…</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Be the person next door or the fantasy person that appears unattainable? (explain)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually just got one of those crazy letters about my neighbor. You know, the ones that tell you that someone in your neighborhood is a sexual predator. So by some chance or destiny, the two choices are identical to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lie to maintain a “goody-goody” rep or not care what people thought about you? (explain)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he invented the first light bulb, Jefferson Davis declared, "We can show ourselves by the light we shine." I certainly care what people think about me, but I most definitely do not want that "goody-goody" rep. This requires me to tell stories that make me sound serious, like how I once stole a pirate's plunder. See, I didn't really steal his plunder, but I did poop in his treasure chest. I wish I could see his face when he opens it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Go back in time to undo your mistakes or deal with the mistakes and learn from it? (explain)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could go back in time. A post birth abortion has more serious consequences than the alternative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Be friends with people that make you look good or people that make you appear to have an edge? (explain)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My spherical figure has been the subject of jokes from friends and strangers alike, so I'd very much prefer to be with friends who make me appear to have some sort of edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stay friends with a person that betrays you or break it off and not give her/him another chance? (explain)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never 'break it off.' I'm perfectly content the way I am. I would probably break up with the woman, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-1313385123856673607?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://captive-heart.com/tuesdaytwosomememe/2007/11/06/reputations-would-you-rather/' title='Reputations, would you rather…'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/1313385123856673607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=1313385123856673607' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/1313385123856673607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/1313385123856673607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/reputations-would-you-rather.html' title='Reputations, would you rather…'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-525678380616371833</id><published>2007-11-05T03:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T03:16:33.449-05:00</updated><title type='text'>that’s my answer! (November 5)</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;If you could go back and tell your 13-year-old self one thing about the future, what would you say?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sandwich bag didn't work. Have fun dropping out of school and working the rest of your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-525678380616371833?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://thatsmyanswer.com/2007/11/05/blog-of-the-day-21/' title='that’s my answer! (November 5)'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/525678380616371833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=525678380616371833' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/525678380616371833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/525678380616371833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/thats-my-answer-november-5.html' title='that’s my answer! (November 5)'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-6711117777137364203</id><published>2007-11-05T01:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T02:07:36.169-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Manic Monday for November 5, 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Describe yourself in one word:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What is your favorite kitchen utensil and why?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it may seem as though the obvious answer is spork, spork is actually the only wrong answer. It's biggest proponents I'm sure would argue that being the bastard-son of a spoon and fork gives you the scooping ability of a spoon, with the stabbing ability of the fork. Those of us living in reality, though, can see that while it does in fact do both of these things, it does both of them poorly. Think about it. It's probably about as dumb as the Swiss army knife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, the best utensil by far is, as Laura suggested, tongs. Now, admittedly, I was at first skeptical. I mean, why give up five ingeniously designed manipulating appendages for two rigid rods with a single degree of freedom? And then I tried to pick up a hamburger off my grill, and it all became so clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What is the one thing that frightens you the most about growing old?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scariest thing about me growing old is kids growing old. They (who?) say children are our future, and because we all have to die someday, it turns out they're right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember, in the not too distant past, adults telling me that I'd be taking over the world someday. Now that I can deal with. I mean, I'm pretty smart, confident, and I think that the world is in the good hands of me and my peers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I, myself, am an adult, the idea of kids running the world scares me out of my wits. Have you seen kids, lately? All they do is suck on bottles, or climb around on monkey bars. Many of them can't spell, and most are just completely aloof. Then again, as far as the White House is concerned, that could be an improvement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-6711117777137364203?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://manicmondaymeme.blogspot.com/2007/11/manic-monday-for-november-5-2007.html' title='Manic Monday for November 5, 2007'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/6711117777137364203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=6711117777137364203' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/6711117777137364203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/6711117777137364203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2007/11/manic-monday-for-november-5-2007.html' title='Manic Monday for November 5, 2007'/><author><name>Sean Greenbek</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v65/111/21/12406581/n12406581_35172676_8093.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115813100663136801</id><published>2006-09-13T01:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T02:06:36.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now a word from our sponsor....</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Suppose you could eliminate television commercials but still had to fill the time slots. What would you choose to replace the commercials?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear they're actually doing this all over Europe using government-funding to take over the time slots. The would-be commercial time is instead displaying useful information to supplement traditional education. Right now it's all kind of random, I think. You might be watching Melrose Place in France, and then get a five minute dose of Poisson statistics. Or maybe between dramatic moments in the latest Survivor series when your in Germany you'll get a quick lecture on the history of the automobile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, this is a great idea, but it definately can be improved upon. The first inclination would be to make these lessons related to the programming. I think this is actually the wrong way to go about it, though. What we need to do is fill in the gaps in the viewers education. If he's watching animal planet, the last thing he needs to learn about is biology. Let's teach this fellow about fractals. If someone's watching the history channel, then during the break they can learn about photosynthesis, or how a Carnot engine works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Europe's on the right track, as usual. But also, as usual, we Americans can do it better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115813100663136801?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://indigobluegreen.blogspot.com/2006/09/now-word-from-our-sponsor.html' title='Now a word from our sponsor....'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115813100663136801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115813100663136801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115813100663136801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115813100663136801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/09/now-word-from-our-sponsor.html' title='Now a word from our sponsor....'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115695110657696227</id><published>2006-08-30T10:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T10:18:26.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you rather</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Would you rather fall and skin your knee on carpet, pavement, or a clay tennis court?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would rather skin my knee on pavement. That would just be further proof that post-modern industrialism is hurting mankind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115695110657696227?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://indigobluegreen.blogspot.com/2006/08/would-you-rather_30.html' title='Would you rather'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115695110657696227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115695110657696227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115695110657696227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115695110657696227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/would-you-rather.html' title='Would you rather'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115588510370906986</id><published>2006-08-18T02:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T02:11:43.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feast One Hundred &amp; Seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Appetizer&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What color is your car?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car is red because it's the color of blood. I love to drive, and when I drive I want it to be a life-extension of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By that logic, I am also a Ford :-/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Soup&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you could wake up tomorrow with full training in another occupation and a job in that field, what would it be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to be a guidance counselor. Then I could use my skills to properly answer this question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Salad&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times in your life have you had the flu (or something similar)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More times than I can count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst time was when I was visiting my uncle, Jeffery, who lived in Kentucky. I got what they called The Finger Flu which supposedly had to do with the little finger on my left hand. Jeffery, always up to date on home-remedies, decided that the best way to cure my sickness would be to amputate the said finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you what, cured me just like that. Like I needed that finger anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Main Course&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is something that has happened to you this week that you didn't expect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've read my other blog, then you'll know there was a girlfriend who beat the shit out of me a year or two back. She died in a car accident on Monday. I guess that didn't happen directly to me, but it made me unexpectedly happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dessert&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How old were you when you had your first kiss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven. My friend and I sat at the lunch table and he bet me his lunch money that I wouldn't drink a cup of my own urine. Well I'm no wuss, so I did it. Right after that I gave the lunch money to a girl named Rachel in exchange for a kiss. She didn't talk to me for a long time after that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115588510370906986?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://fridaysfeast.blogspot.com/2006/08/feast-one-hundred-seven.html' title='Feast One Hundred &amp; Seven'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115588510370906986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115588510370906986' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115588510370906986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115588510370906986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/feast-one-hundred-seven.html' title='Feast One Hundred &amp; Seven'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115584965069743527</id><published>2006-08-17T16:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T16:20:50.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Versus</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Coca-Cola or Pepsi?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prefer Coca-Cola because of a story my grandpa used to like to tell before he passed away (now that he passed away, he's somewhat indifferent to telling to the story).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa Greenbek never did like soda pop, so when a young, smug-looking man in a tweed suit visited his house and asked if he'd like to take the Pepsi challenge, my grandpa said no. Well, the tweed suit guy, whose name was Jimmy, or James, or maybe just Jim thought that maybe he should just try a sip. Who knows, he might like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now times were different then, because in todays world if you lay a guy out you'll be paying him the big bucks because of some big law suit, but in his time it was just his way of saying no means no. So ol' Pappy Greenbek laid down the signature Greenbek Hammer, then pissed on the bloodied mess that had oh-so-recently been Jimmy, or James, or Jim. "Take the piss challenge," he yelled at him. "How's that taste?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, Pappy Greenbek was a great man, and he hated Pepsi so now I like Coke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115584965069743527?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://indigobluegreen.blogspot.com/2006/08/versus.html' title='Versus'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115584965069743527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115584965069743527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115584965069743527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115584965069743527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/versus.html' title='Versus'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115584885540944877</id><published>2006-08-17T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T16:07:35.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3x Thursday: 08/17/y2k+6: Animals</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;1. What's your favorite animal (This doesn't have to be a mammal, mind you!)?  Why?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why that, of course, would be the koala. As a kid I was well-travelled. When I was just a boy, my familly took me to Australia and everywhere we went I saw these little koala bears just sitting around in trees eating their eucalyptus leaves. So I keep complaining to my dad about how lazy these dumb creatures are, and he finally asks me why I don't just go beat the shit out of one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I try it, and the thing scratches the shit out of me. I have to go to the emergency room and get stitches everywhere... I mean everywhere. Ever since, I've respected the koala more than any other animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. If you could come back as any animal, what would it be?  Why?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A koala, because I've beatin' enough ass to earn an easy life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. As pets, Betta fish live in vases or bowls by themselves.  Do you suppose they have stressful lives ever?  How so/how not?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever tried living in an all-glass room? It's pretty fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonus Question for Comments: &lt;b&gt;Are you glad your're a human being instead of, say, an amphibian?  Why/why not?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, because I'm not a dumb fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115584885540944877?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.hairmetalqueen.com/archives/2006/08/#000532' title='3x Thursday: 08/17/y2k+6: Animals'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115584885540944877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115584885540944877' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115584885540944877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115584885540944877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/3x-thursday-0817y2k6-animals.html' title='3x Thursday: 08/17/y2k+6: Animals'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115557544054674808</id><published>2006-08-14T12:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T12:10:40.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Curious as a Cat 30</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What place in or on your body is the center of your emotional being?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Definately my head. I was recently at a golf outing with my boss and I hit this great shot down the fairway, on course for a birdie. Then this dickhead drove over my ball with his golf cart and my boss said it was a one-stroke penalty. I got so pissed that my hat caught on fire. My boss wasn't surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When are you a copycat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to poetry I am a total copy cat. Check out this poem I wrote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#800000;"   &gt;            Some say the world will end in fire,&lt;br /&gt;Some say in ice.&lt;br /&gt;From what I've tasted of desire&lt;br /&gt;I hold with those who favor fire.&lt;br /&gt;But if it had to perish twice,&lt;br /&gt;I think I know enough of hate&lt;br /&gt;To say that for destruction ice&lt;br /&gt;Is also great&lt;br /&gt;And would suffice.        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115557544054674808?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://curiousasacat.blogspot.com/2006/08/questions-for-week-number-thirty-what.html' title='Curious as a Cat 30'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115557544054674808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115557544054674808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115557544054674808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115557544054674808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/curious-as-cat-30.html' title='Curious as a Cat 30'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115505645890025804</id><published>2006-08-08T11:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T12:00:58.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whinge and Whine</title><content type='html'>What do you do when others try to put you down when telling em your dreams?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I usually play a rigged game. You see, I start off by describing this wonderful vision of me becoming some great fighting champion, the likes of which the world has never seen. Then, of course, they look at my size and say 'yeah right.' Then I beat their asses down and they realize that it just might happen after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115505645890025804?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://whingeit.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-do-you-do-when-others-try-to-put.html' title='Whinge and Whine'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115505645890025804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115505645890025804' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115505645890025804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115505645890025804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/whinge-and-whine.html' title='Whinge and Whine'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115505472873823172</id><published>2006-08-08T11:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T11:40:51.190-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When you were a kid...</title><content type='html'>1.  What two things did you do when it rained?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did more than two things when it rained, but I'll describe my two favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing was to have an eating contest with my younger brother. First one of us would eat something (actual food) then the other would match it, then eat something else. And it went back and forth. Puking to make room for more food was allowed. This ceased when my brother had to go to the emergency room for a ruptured throat or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also tried replicating the so-called Ben Franklin experiment with the kite and the key in a jar. We only caught the lightning once, and when we gave it to our mom to open, her hair stood up for two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  What two things did you do when you had a rain/snow day and didn't have to go to school?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't say I've ever had a rain day, but as for snow days my local gang would get together and have snowball fights with the kids from the school across town. It was great because their school hardly ever called off, so we usually ended up going to their playground and bombing them until they cried and went inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing my gang did, mostly because of our friend's mom, is collect random items. She thought she was a witch and would cast spells and stuff for our success. It was usually toads, or stray animals, but sometimes it would be flowers and such.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  What two subjects in school were your favorites?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite subject was history because I thought it was all made-up and started writing my own history and using that on tests. Didn't go over so well with the grades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second favorite subject was math, because I thought I could make up math. Well, it turned out I rederived some of the basics of calculus, but it didn't really help with my times tables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Who were two of your best friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrew and Ron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  What/who did you dream you would grow up to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I would  grow up to be a race car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115505472873823172?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://tuesdaytwosome.captive-heart.com/index2.html' title='When you were a kid...'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115505472873823172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115505472873823172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115505472873823172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115505472873823172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/when-you-were-kid.html' title='When you were a kid...'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115471859227740227</id><published>2006-08-04T14:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T14:11:02.496-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fryin’ Friday</title><content type='html'>1.  If you are in the US, is the heat wave affecting your area?  If not in the US, do you get heat waves where you are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the normal things people are doing to beat the heat, Columbus has this really weird cult thing that runs around, especially around the OSU campus where I spend a lot of my time. On Monday they started marching around in their robes. Usually, they're in two side-by-side lines marching in step, but sometimes they just stop and start screaming and hollering at the sun. It's really, really weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  What do you do to beat the heat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I run as fast as I can anywhere I go, and when I'm staying in a hot place I just run in circles. This creates the wind chill effect, and I can drop my temperature by like ten degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Are you more of a heat person, or do you like the cold?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the cold, mostly because my hands are numb when I'm beating ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115471859227740227?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://multifacetedmama.com/FFun/?p=103' title='Fryin’ Friday'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115471859227740227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115471859227740227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115471859227740227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115471859227740227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/fryin-friday.html' title='Fryin’ Friday'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115467534823403239</id><published>2006-08-04T01:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T02:11:53.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feast One Hundred &amp; Five</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Appetizer&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name an actor or actress you think is totally underappreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James Earl Jones. I got to eat lunch with him at some banquet one time. Now I'm not one who talks much, but my cowoker who was sitting with me, across for him, certainly does. He asks him, "Yo James E, got any movies coming out?" And this sad look kind of struck his face. He looked at my friend sternly and said, "I am but a voice, not an image." Sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Soup&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impress us by using a big word in a sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking for a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;man&lt;/span&gt; named Jeremy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Salad&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is something inanimate that you've given a name to (such as a pet rock)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must've been three or four years ago when I was eating at a nice restaurant with my girlfriend of that time. "I can do a magic trick," I told her. I'd been practicing this thing where I pull a french fry from out of her nose, then her ear, and then, well, her breasts. So I start it, and with the first two, she looks very unamused. I wonder, momentarily, if I should continue. Why the hell not, I say. So I blow into my left hand and reach over to her cleavage, startling her. She stands up, flips the table at me, and runs off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, now the rest of the patrons are staring at me, and I'm covered in steak and pasta and wine and silverware. Then something caught my eye. She left her purse. So I take the purse and name it "Tomodati" (Japanese for friend) and for several weeks it supplies me with money. That's what friends do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What ex-girlfriends do is call and demand their purse be returned. And what I do is vehemently deny that I ever had it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Main Course&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What color would best represent your personality and why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orange. It's the color of carrots, and I'm wise. It's the color of the sunset, and I'm beautiful. It's the color of oranges, and I'm juicy. It's the color construction signs, and I'm under construction. It's the color of agent orange, and I'm yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dessert&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fill in the blanks:  ____________ is so ____________.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dogs is so Specials.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115467534823403239?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://fridaysfeast.blogspot.com/2006/08/feast-one-hundred-five.html' title='Feast One Hundred &amp; Five'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115467534823403239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115467534823403239' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115467534823403239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115467534823403239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/feast-one-hundred-five.html' title='Feast One Hundred &amp; Five'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115467374187212663</id><published>2006-08-04T01:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T03:44:42.797-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shop-a-holic</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;1. What are your five favorite stores?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;2. Is there any store you absolutely hate going to?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;3. Do you pay with cash, credit, debit, or something else?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;4. Do you prefer to shop in person or online? &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;5. In the last six months, what single purchase has been the most important to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. In no specific order...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Sears. It has just about everything you could want from furniture to clothes to, best of all, tools. They're at every mall, and they accept discover card. On top of that, what better way to enter a mall. I mean, don't you feel a little guilty if you enter through the Kauffman's, or the food court?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;K-mart. They're the underdawg (yes, that's how I spell dog, damn it) of the super store industry, and it seems there just isn't room for them anymore. Oh well, you have to root for the underdogs, or else you're a bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Circuit City. Man, fuck Circuit City. How can you have a store with only four aisles and a couple computers. How did it even get into my top five?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Porn stores, in general. No explanation needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Wasserstrom, restaurant supply store. Man, it doesn't matter if I need a half-pan for some kick-ass cookies, a whisk the size of Samuel L. Jackson's arm, or an obsolete ash tray, they have whatever I could possible want for a rate you can't beat anywhere (except maybe your local hustler). Restaurant supply stores rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. I. Hate. Going. To. Wal-Mart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;It starts in the parking lot. You're driving in, but you can't just drive, you have to drive behind walking people because they're totally unaware that you're there. They might as well be blindfolded and ear-muffed. Hell, have them put their head on a baseball bat and spin around three times before you send them into the lot. It's that bad. And the cars are just as bad, roaming around the parking lot with complete disregard for lines, traffic, or even people. I wonder how many accidents occur in Wal-Mart parking lots yearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Once you're inside, the traffic problems persist. The aisles are narrow, and that large lady just has to stand in the center of the aisle to examine the pile of back-to-school folders, or that bear holding up a welcome sign.  Children are screaming, and people run into you. Some people aren't even there to buy things... they're just there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. I always pay with cash. I don't trust computers. Just ask Stephen Hawking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;4. It's gotta be in person. I want to see the person who's selling me stuff. I need to know whose ass to beat if something is messed up. Best I can do online is send an angry e-mail and tell them if I were there I'd beat their ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;5. Air conditioner. It's damn hot.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115467374187212663?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://friday.criminalgrace.com/archives/2006/08/shop-a-holic.html' title='Shop-a-holic'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115467374187212663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115467374187212663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115467374187212663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115467374187212663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/shop-holic.html' title='Shop-a-holic'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115463987661781972</id><published>2006-08-03T15:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T16:19:16.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Popcorn</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Do you prefer the yellow kernel popcorn, or the white kernel? What do you put on your popcorn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;I can't say I've ever had a preference or noticed a difference, but my friend Robbie sure did. He'd say, "Sean, c'mon man. You gotta eat the yellow ones." And I'd just shake my head no and tell him I didn't care. "Dude," he'd say, "They're so much better... They're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;authentic&lt;/span&gt;." Like I knew what the hell that was supposed to mean. But Robbie did this shit all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one time, the two of us were drunk at my place, and we were going to watch this movie, Ten Things I Hate About You, so I made some popcorn. Of course, it's the white kind, and as soon as he eats it he gets this look on his face. He can tell, you know? He can fucking tell. "I told you not to feed me that shit," he said. "I fucking told you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just went nuts. "Fuck you. My popcorn ain't good enough for you? You want yellow popcorn." So, I know it's a little cliched, but I pissed on it. "There you go, asshole."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time I ever saw the bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like butter on my popcorn, and salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115463987661781972?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://indigobluegreen.blogspot.com/2006/08/popcorn.html' title='Popcorn'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115463987661781972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115463987661781972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115463987661781972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115463987661781972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/popcorn.html' title='Popcorn'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115463776264329005</id><published>2006-08-03T15:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T15:44:34.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Reading</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do your reading habits change for the summer months?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;If so, how?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do, but it's more of a mathematics thing. I alternate, monthly, between reading romantic fiction and then straight-up erotica. So if I'm jumping back and forth between two items, and there are three months in the summer, then I am reading one of the genres for twice as long as the other. In my case, it's erotica. To sum it all up, I read erotica for two months and romantic fiction for one month in the summer and winter. In spring and fall it's the opposite, of course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115463776264329005?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://bookingthroughthursday.blogspot.com/2006/08/summer-reading.html' title='Summer Reading'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115463776264329005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115463776264329005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115463776264329005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115463776264329005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/summer-reading.html' title='Summer Reading'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32027673.post-115463532687121425</id><published>2006-08-03T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T15:21:31.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's Little Headaches</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. Have you ever had a migraine headache?  If yes, do you get them often?  How long do they last? How do you get rid of them?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. What's the one thing in your life that stresses you out the most?  Why?  How do you handle it?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;3.  What's your worst personal habit (biting your nails, not putting stuff away, etc)?  How do you work on making it better?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p&gt;Bonus Question for Comments: &lt;b&gt;How was your day yesterday? What did you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;1. I have had a migraine headache only one time. One of my girlfriends and I had a big fight because she thought she was the top shit. Oh no, no she wasn't. But, as is usually the case, she was a better fighter than me. She punched me in the stomach until I puked, and then punched me some more. I lay on the ground when she left, and after an hour or so I got up, head pounding and hurting more than I could have imagined. What I found most peculiar was that I could get a headache from being hit in the stomach. I took my frustration out by punched the brick walls in the basement until my hand hurt, overshadowing the headache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;2. I get very, very, very stressed out when I'm picking out my clothes in the morning. I mean, every day is a new day, and your clothes have to be chosen appropriately. I have to go through the day, or at least the approximation of what my day may be, and decide what's going to suit me best. The worst is, sometimes you have two totally different situations staring you down, like one time I was going to go to work, but also having lunch. I wanted cool blues for lunch, since it was hot outside, but I wanted some fiery orange to show how hard a worker I am. Life is comprimise, and so are clothes, I guess. There were only a few occassions where I've had to resort to changing clothes more than once in a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;3. My worst personal habit? Well, I don't have any that are too bad, but I guess the worst is that I save my fast food cups. I mean, hey, you never know when you're going to need a cup. So maybe it isn't that bad in and of itself, but my roommates have been getting pissed at me. I put the cups in the dishwasher and they fall apart and get all over the other cups. I'm always like, "Sorry, dude. It's habit." I'll learn, though. I always learn... eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Bonus: Yesterday I slept the whole damn day. It was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32027673-115463532687121425?l=memekoala.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.hairmetalqueen.com/archives/2006/08/#000513' title='Life&apos;s Little Headaches'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/feeds/115463532687121425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32027673&amp;postID=115463532687121425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115463532687121425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32027673/posts/default/115463532687121425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memekoala.blogspot.com/2006/08/lifes-little-headaches.html' title='Life&apos;s Little Headaches'/><author><name>Paul Crawford</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4183/2730/1600/g-rod.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
