<?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-8175184938375177976</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:38:39.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thats what she said...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-7456094515576730583</id><published>2010-11-25T23:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T23:28:19.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Time to Reflect...</title><content type='html'>Maybe its this time of year that has me reflecting on the things in my life that I am blessed for, or maybe I am getting older and more sentimental... whatever the case may be, I have decided to blog about it (most of you are probably thinking "no duh, stop wasting my time with this non-sense and just get to it" and that is a valued sentiment, but it is my blog after, so I will get to it when I feel like getting to it... and now I'll get to it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I am so blessed and thankful for my wonderful family: dad, mom, and brother.&lt;br /&gt;-I am truly spoiled with the depth of character and genuineness of all of my friends... you guys (and girls) rock.&lt;br /&gt;-I am thankful to be living in a country that I can be free to worhsip God without fear of consequences.&lt;br /&gt;-I am thankful for all of the men and women serving in our military that serve and protect us in many ways that will never been seen or known by us.&lt;br /&gt;-Even though I am single, I am thankful for the maturing and personal growth I have had before I can really be of any value to another person in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;-I am thankful for the woman that will someday be my wife... unless celibacy is a gift that I possess, then I am thankful for that (like how I covered all of my bases there?).&lt;br /&gt;-but mostly I am thankful for you, my readers... just joking, I am not.  But thats really because I know that I am already friends with all of you, so I already said I was thankful for you.  So just get over yourselves already, OK?  (I was just joking, so be happy and smile... I SAID TO SMILE!!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-7456094515576730583?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/7456094515576730583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=7456094515576730583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7456094515576730583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7456094515576730583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/11/time-to-reflect.html' title='A Time to Reflect...'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-6627438281183296792</id><published>2010-11-19T01:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T01:24:24.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Woo-What The-Fest</title><content type='html'>O-M-Jeepers!!!  Yes, that is right.  I said that.  For good reason too, might I add.  If you couldn't gather from my extremely effiminate opening proclamation, I am talking about Woofest.  After having watched this year's edition of the annual Vanguard tradition, only one question deserves to be raised and that is "WHAT THE @*$&amp;amp;#%*@!!!!!!"  Yes, you read that right.  No, that was not a typo (I already told you that you read that right).  If you have not already heard aboout it, well you will now.  It was the most eye-popping and jaw-dropping event I have ever seen at Vanguard, or anywhere for that matter... though not necessarily for the best reasons.  The hijinks and shenanigans were on display throughout the evening... and I am not being a homer by saying this either, but my brother's floor (2nd FLOOR ALL THE WAY!!!) was robbed from winning (stupid girls that can scream abnormally loud). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess that is all.  Just wanted to Tweet about it, but since I do not have a Twitter account (or the desire to get one) I decided to go with this faithful blog.  You are now the proud reader of my thoughts and opinions of this evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - I had a quart of chocolate milk after the show... and it was delicious!!!  Just an FYI, to anyone that may care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-6627438281183296792?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/6627438281183296792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=6627438281183296792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6627438281183296792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6627438281183296792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/11/woo-what-fest.html' title='Woo-What The-Fest'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-1678915292542296753</id><published>2010-11-12T23:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-12T23:32:31.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Greatest Country on Earth</title><content type='html'>So I am watching the news right now... weird, I know... but there was just a story on that a middle school in California was not going to let a student put an American flag on the back of his bikenfor Veteran's day.  The middle school eventually changed their stance on the issue, but why was there any hesitation to begin with?!?!?!?!  We are in the United States of America are we not?  So why would that even be an issue?  Political Correctness is to blame.  I am not saying that PC is bad, because it does take ignorance of differences into account, but COME ON!!!!!!!  The PC in this story sought to not offend... well, I have absolutely no idea who the American flag would offend in AMERICA!!!!  Should we go around being ignorant and offending anyone and everyone that crosses our path?  No, of course not.  But if our quest to not offend others takes away national pride that is not based upon bigotry or ethnocentrism, but rather upon the values that this nation was founded, something has been very perverted.  It is sickening that the American flag could possibly be offended to another American citizen.  I am sorry that the flag of the nation of which you are a citizen to is offensive... NOT!!!  How could the symbol of our nation be offensive to anyone that calls this country home is beyond me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what all of our ancestors would think of this?  You know, those that worked so hard to get here and spent all the money they had just to make a better life for their children and children's children.  Those that did whatever it took to make a living in this country because they had a freedom that was not present in their original country.  Those that fought against the inhumanity taking place in other parts of the world during both of the World Wars.  I'm sure they would blush or be filled with disgust at the very sight of the American flag.  I hope you caught the sarcasm in that last sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note... during the same news broadcast, they showed a high school quarterback rush for a 99 yard TD... on a QB SNEAK!!!!!  That is ridiculous!  OK, enough of my pathetic musings for tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-1678915292542296753?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/1678915292542296753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=1678915292542296753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/1678915292542296753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/1678915292542296753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/11/greatest-country-on-earth.html' title='The Greatest Country on Earth'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-5915420420093036887</id><published>2010-11-08T20:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T20:38:17.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GMH</title><content type='html'>So I have a slightly embarassing confession to make... I love the website GMH (Gives Me Hope) and also LGMH (Love Gives Me Hope).  For a fairly manly, well, man that is somewhat hard to say out loud (or via keyboard as it may be).  My emotions can get the better of me sometimes and some of the stories posted on those wonderful sites seriously tug at the old heartstrings.  And yes, there have been several stories to bring moisture to my eyeballs... they are just so sweet.  I have never advertised myself as a hardened, emotionless being but I have also never admitted my emotional side either.  So with that in mind it may come as a bit of a surprise that it is not just these sites that can get to the core of my masculine heart.  Other things that have too would include: A Walk to Remember, Old Yeller, and Marley and Me.  Sometimes I'm not sure if I avoid some chick-flicks because they are girly or because I'm afraid my emotions would make an unwanted appearance.  Curse such heartwarming things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the purpose of this post?  I'm not too sure.  I guess I just decided not to hide from it anymore.  There are somethings in life that are so tender and sweet and adorable that could even make the manliest man at least get teary-eyed and I am no exception.  So please do not exploit this new knowledge you have acquired to get me emotional... that just wouldn't be cool.  Thank you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - give those sites a looksy and you will see what I mean... they are so, dare I say cute?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-5915420420093036887?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/5915420420093036887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=5915420420093036887' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5915420420093036887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5915420420093036887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/11/gmh.html' title='GMH'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-9032500950282335210</id><published>2010-10-18T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T16:25:19.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the Cold Talking, I Swear</title><content type='html'>I have just realized that I am not a fan of people being individuals.  Anything more than a slight deviation from normal upsets me... immensely.  People that dress in ways that I view to be abnormal kind of stresses me out.  When people speak in ways that are different than myself... my soul shudders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to see myself as the epitome of average: average height, weight, looks, intelligence, humor, heck even my ethnicity is a mumbled up mess (meaning I represent a lot of ethnicities, so I represent a lot of people, thus making me average... kind of a stretch).  So whats different compared to me, I see as Oddball McGee.  Is it right?  Doubtful.  Is it wrong?  Open for interpretation.  Is it me?  Yes.  Is it normal for everyone to do this?  Yes and no (remember I am the epitome of average and normal falls under that category), but since I feel there are more "open" people (fancy terminology for "those that are close-minded to close-mindedness") than "not-open" people (?), then I oddly become an oddity and I should therefore be awkward around myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may be asking yourself "where is he going with this?" and I would answer by saying I'm not really sure.  I'm blaming a cold for my rambling.  But on a sidenote, don't you like how I pulled that whole observation full-circle? (impressive, I know)  Another question may have popped into your dome, "does he really consider himself to be the epitome of average?"  HAHAHAHAHA (thats me... laughing in your face) don't be ridiculous.  I have self-confidence, though more pronounced in some areas than others.  I know that I am really, really, ridiculously good looking.  And don't get me started on my awe-inspiring intellect and humor (but you can get me started on that if you would like). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I wasted enough of your, the reader's, time?  Not by a long shot (just joking).  I have nothing else to entertain you with at this present moment.  so until next time... stay classy, internet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-9032500950282335210?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/9032500950282335210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=9032500950282335210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/9032500950282335210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/9032500950282335210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/10/its-cold-talking-i-swear.html' title='It&apos;s the Cold Talking, I Swear'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-4842051792262658062</id><published>2010-10-12T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T12:04:07.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Got Bored in the Library</title><content type='html'>So I've come to the realization that I am growing up.  Although my realization wasn't so much for the good reasons, such as: better organization, wisdom, knowledge (but those are coming around as well... at least thats what I believe)... but rather my body is getting older (and not in a good sense like finally acquiring "man-strength").  My body is finally starting to breakdown and it sucks.  I imagine this is how Brett Favre feels... minus the whole scandal thing now (too soon?).  I need to start working out harder or something, otherwise I fear my limbs will actually just fall off of the rest of my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho... I guess physical breakdown is inevitable, but I'm still fairly young at 22 (although, I feel a lot older everytime another one of my friends gets married).  So I should be able to bounce back fine once I get into a better workout routine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now onto something that is really cool (and not semi-depressing)... the Giants WON!!!!!  They are now in the NLCS and all is right with the world.  They won the most exciting divisional series of the playoffs and I think I may have grown some gray hairs just watching it.  It was emotionally draining and I felt tired after every game, though not too tired after they won their 3 games.  Finally the Giants are back to baseball's elite and they can only get better (2 rookies started the clinching game 4 against the Braves and Lincecum, Cain, and Sanchez are still young).  With the Giants resurgence, October finally has a meaning to me (besides being the month that gets in the way of Thanksgiving and Christmas). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't talk about the 49ers at all because I am choosing to ignore what is happening right now with them... so with that in mind (or out of mind?) I will simply end my post here.  So thank you for reading (if you did).  I do this for all of my devoted followers (just joking).  Good bye for now (and the post is actually ending......................... now).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-4842051792262658062?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/4842051792262658062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=4842051792262658062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/4842051792262658062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/4842051792262658062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/10/got-bored-in-library.html' title='Got Bored in the Library'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-3512260002387564729</id><published>2010-05-29T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-29T23:51:35.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life at the Moment</title><content type='html'>My life has become abundantly more complex and complicated over these last few months.  Recent events have really just left me unsure of my next move (or moves as it may be).  I have never felt this way before, and I have even approached this situation differently than I have when faced with similar things in the past.  I have felt compelled to act differently and the reasoning escapes me.  I have never thought to approach wise counsel in this type of matter before, but I felt strongly that I needed to this time.  I have never really prayerfully approached any situation like this before, but I feel I really need to this time around.  Is it because I am older now and more mature?  Are these new attitudes and approaches being impressed upon me by God? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would just like to state for the record that I truly hope its a "yes" to each question.  But who really knows right now.  I guess only time will really reveal the correct answers to my internal questions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all that being said, I am having one of the best times of my life right now.  I will not say why I am enjoying life so much right now.  Why?  Because I don't have to (ever hear of a "cliff-hanger"?).  Plus, I want to keep this whole situation/time/life thing under-the-radar because there is still nothing of substance in this particular area.   I just really want to be careful and wise in my handling of this "thing" because if anything were to develop, there would need to be wisdom and discretion involved in maintaining "it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just can't stop guessing about what it could possibly be, huh?  Well, I would say my job here is done then.  Just joking.  But seriously, it probably won't take you many guesses to figure out what I am talking (writing/typing) about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy guessing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-3512260002387564729?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/3512260002387564729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=3512260002387564729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3512260002387564729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3512260002387564729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-life-at-moment.html' title='My Life at the Moment'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-460024900114521313</id><published>2010-05-11T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T11:45:06.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Witty and Clever... (but not really)</title><content type='html'>So I've returned to blogging and I am still not famous.  Oh well.  I guess my blog would become famous if people knew it existed and for people to know it exists they would probably have to Google my name and in order for people to want to Google my name they would need to know that I exist... and that's probably why I am still not famous.  The only people that know I exist are my 5 faithful followers, although I have no idea if one of them is even a real person.  So my 4 followers are the only peeps that know I and the blog exists, although I should probably not count my roommate as a follower cause I live with him... and I guess I don't really know how faithful the other 3 are in reading this.  So at most there are 5 people that know about me and my blog, but more than likely it's one person that reads this only when extreme boredom hits them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.  I guess I can't make myself famous through my blogging.  I guess I'll have to rely on winning the lotto in order to gain my wealth instead of through my celebrity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of celebrities, why are they so rich?  They don't actually do anything that helps people (aside from adopting ridiculous amounts of children... yes, I'm talking about you Angelina).  On a side note related to my side note in parentheses in the last sentence, what is the deal with her collecting babies like trophies?  Are her and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;octomom&lt;/span&gt; in some sort of babies race like the US and the former Soviet Union were in an arms race?  I know I'm like six months, at least, behind that whole joke and everything, but it still creeps me out.  It's like as soon as she gets tired of a kid she gets a new one.  Kids aren't like clothes where you can get new ones once you outgrow or wear-out the old ones.  I completely forgot where I was going with this paragraph... oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you may be asking what the point of writing this blog is after reading to this point... and well there really isn't a point (don't act surprised).  I was simply bored and decided to do something productive (the productivity of this blog is very debatable, but still its better than sleeping all day... or is it?).  I am a major procrastinator (I'm not going to talk about it, it's more of a just in case you were interested sort of thing).  I measure productivity by how many times I stand up in a day... so, yes, I would count this blog as being productive, a major waste of time, but a productive one at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the part of the blog that I talk about my life and whats new in it.  I'm actually just joking, nothing new is going on in my life.  If there was something new and exciting, I definitely wouldn't be wasting my time writing this (or maybe this is the new and exciting thing in my life?).  What is that you are saying to yourself, "Tim is the coolest most awesome guy I know and he writes the wittiest and most clever blog entries of all time, so how can he have such a boring life?"?(?... I feel I messed up somewhere with the question marks)  Well sadly if that is exactly what you are thinking, you are dead wrong and quite gullible.  I often speak of my awesomeness, coolness, hilarity and other positive qualities and characteristics that I possess (here comes the catch), but I do not really possess any of them, at least not to the degree I would like you to think.  I guess this paragraph has been somewhat of a confessional section for me... and it was quite therapeutic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;guarantee&lt;/span&gt; when my next entry will be, but I can guess it will be a result of boredom.  So until next time, make me famous... PLEASE!!!!!!!  I need money and I don't want to really have to work for it, so if you could make me famous that would be pretty sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-460024900114521313?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/460024900114521313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=460024900114521313' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/460024900114521313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/460024900114521313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/05/something-witty-and-clever-but-not.html' title='Something Witty and Clever... (but not really)'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-6193655267348723912</id><published>2010-03-26T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T15:26:02.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anybody Out There?</title><content type='html'>I have a question, and a simple one at that... does anyone really blog anymore?  Is blogging now an archaic art, such as handwritten letters?  Do people only care about the lives of celebrities now?  Is tweeting the new blogging?  Or are my suspicions correct that tweeting is the most lame modern technology in recent years?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so it turns out I had &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; questions than I realized.  But &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; alright, because its my blog and my opinion is the only one that matters here.  I will now discuss in excruciating detail my new plan for this here blog (a.k.a. online journal... diaries are for girls).  I'm actually joking about the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;deets&lt;/span&gt; being painful, I hate pain so it I wouldn't want to inflict any on anybody else.  Any who, I am now determined to be the biggest name in non-celebrity writing (I guess it could mean that i would become a celebrity thus eliminating the previous sentence).  My dream includes people flocking to computer screens and reading my humorous musings and declaring me their favorite person in the world (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;narcissistic&lt;/span&gt; much?).  I will become a national treasure (I will beat Nicolas Cage down if he comes around me though).  Nobody will be able to function throughout their day without first reading my blog first.  Its really the perfect plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result of my future awesomeness (I know most of you are thinking to yourselves, "Future awesomeness?  He's already awesome!!!") I will become the new Dos Equis spokesman (I will be the new "Most Interesting Man in the World").  I may even end up co-hosting an episode of Man vs. Wild.  I will be offered a cast spot on SNL.  I will be the international face of success.  And I will date only the most beautiful girls in the entire world, of course... thats a given. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that is how I will have gone from the most famous non-celebrity to the most famous celebrity.  This post will act as "Step #1" in my fame seeking journey.  Those few that read this will be able to tell their grandchildren about it someday (it may also become a national/international holiday... but that decision is really out of my hands).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give it a couple of days to fully realize the dream set out in this post.  So, I will write again when I am famous... late peeps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-6193655267348723912?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/6193655267348723912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=6193655267348723912' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6193655267348723912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6193655267348723912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2010/03/anybody-out-there.html' title='Anybody Out There?'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-6743584619483167677</id><published>2009-09-06T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T00:32:14.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want to Live Outside of the Box</title><content type='html'>I was telling some of my awesome friends yesterday about what my plans are for my future.  Plans such as opening up a non-profit organization in some inner-city like Compton or someplace similar, working with the youth from the community and just trying to provide a safe-haven for them; just a place where they wouldn't be tempted by things they might be tempted by out in the streets.  But after telling my friends my plans I began to really think about what I had just really done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was limiting God's involvement in my life by saying what my plans and desires are for my future.  I put myself into a box, if you will, by saying that thats what I want to do.  I don't want to do what I want to do, I want to do what God had specifically designed me to do while I was still in my mother's womb.  I am pretty sure I have written in a previous post that while I was in Africa I felt a real purpose in my life, but that I wasn't sure what the exact purpose was and that it didn't matter to me because God's purpose for my life would be so much more excellent and perfect than anything my finite mind would ever be able to conjure up.  Well, apparently I had lost my perspective at some point since then and yesterday.  I no longer desire to outline what my future life will look like, I now want to simply put my life into God's hands, I want Him to direct my every step. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am self-conscious, and nervous person when it comes to certain things in life (some of you know this to be true more than others), but I am confident in saying that God has a specific purpose and plan for my life and that His plan is so much more magnificent than anything I could ever want to do.  But even while I say that, although I believe it, I can't help but feel some doubts rising inside of me.  I guess I just need to follow the example of the Roman Centurion (at least thats what I think the guy was) that asked for Jesus to come to his house and heal his sick child.  Jesus asked him if he believed that he (Jesus) would be able to heal his child, the Centurion answered "I do believe, but help my unbelief."  Everytime I heard that story before I just thought that that was a truly idiotic thing to say "I believe, but help my unbelief."  What does that even mean?  Until yesterday, I would have been incapable of answering that question, but now I feel that I really do know what the Roman Centurion was saying and I feel exactly as he did.  I believe God has something extraordinary planned for me, but there are still some doubts in the back of my mind about that.  I need help with my unbelief. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want my own insecurities to be what hold me back from God's true calling on my life.  I don't want my doubts in God's plan for my life to make me plan my own future.  My life really isn't my own anyways, since I only wake up each morning because God allows me to, so I might as well allow Him to lead my life where He wants it to go.  I don't want to live my life in a box constructed of my own wants, plans, and desires.  I want anything and everything God has for me in this life He has given me.  I want for me what He wants for me.  I want to live where He wants me to live.  I want to live my life the way He wants me to live my life wherever He puts me, doing whatever He gives me to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-6743584619483167677?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/6743584619483167677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=6743584619483167677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6743584619483167677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6743584619483167677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-want-to-live-outside-of-box.html' title='I Want to Live Outside of the Box'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-3958222589769847660</id><published>2009-08-15T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T01:50:46.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Guess is as Good as Mine</title><content type='html'>Another night of possible insomnia.  Another pointless and random blog entry.  So now that the reason for this entry has been established I will begin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep thoughts = confusion on my part.  The deeper my thoughts tend to go, the more confusing my future plans become.  Life seems to be trickier than I once imagined it would be.  Why?  Could it be that as one grows and matures in their life that matters once thought simple become more and more complex?  Is maturity to blame?  Are one's experiences in life the true culprits of complicating life?  Life just becomes more and more mysterious with each new day.  Things I considered to be obvious components of my future life yesterday are now suddenly doubtful in my opinion today.  The more I think about what I want to do with my life, the more unsure I become about what I really want to do.  I feel I have a calling, a purpose I was born into this world for, but I haven't the foggiest idea what that may be.  Do I really have as much time to figure this all out as I think I do?  Or am I on the fast-track to becoming a hobo?  If I were to become a hobo, would that be it for me, or would there be a chance of some sort of redemption?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onto a less melancholy subject... moving back to school.  Actually, this seems to be the only thing I am quite certain about right now.  I am definitely excited to head back and start this new school year.  It promises to be a year for the ages.  I can't put my finger on why I feel this way, but I can't help but feel that this year will be big for my life.  Which I know is a complete contradiction of the paragraph above, but I can feel both ways at the same time... it is a free country after all.  I am super-duper-stoked to be back at school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another subject that seems to bring a smile to my face... Pandora.com's Doo-Wop station.  If you are a fan of oldies such as myself, it is well worth a try.  The old adage of oldies but goodies is definitely applicable to this station.  It is most certainly one of the best inventions EVER.  PERIOD (I realize that I used an actual period after "EVER" and before "PERIOD" but I just want to really stress that point).  If your opinion is contrary to my own, I do not care... you are probably a loser without friends but a million cats... just joking... but seriously...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I realize that this blog is perfectly incapable of adding to anyone's life in any way shape or form... so I'm sorry... I guess.  Maybe I should have put that last sentence at the beginning of the entry as a form of warning to the reader?  Oh well, I'm too lazy to change it now.  So with that I will offer up my thanks to you (the readers... all 1-3 of you) for sticking it out and reading the entire thing.  Unless you didn't tough it out and you aren't even reading this very sentence, in which case you receive no thanks from me.  Try reading the entire thing next time, then and only then will you be granted thanks on my behalf.  OK, that was a tangent of massive proportions and I apologize for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now... keep on the look out for more late night musings from yours truly... or midday musings... really my musings can occur at any hour of the day, so just stay vigilant in your following of this blog.  Later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-3958222589769847660?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/3958222589769847660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=3958222589769847660' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3958222589769847660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3958222589769847660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/08/your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine.html' title='Your Guess is as Good as Mine'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-7442131669910382728</id><published>2009-08-12T10:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T10:26:28.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #5</title><content type='html'>7-13-2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today was another truly awesome day.  The kids were a treat to be around, like always.  They come up with new ways to make me laugh all of the time, they are hilarious.  The only real downer about today had to be that I felt sick for the first time all trip, but thankfully I am feeling much better now, even though I still feel extremely exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever conversed with an infant before?  I ask because I never had until today.  The topic of conversation wasn't anything to write home about (or journal about for that matter), but the interaction was awesome.  So to answer the previous question, I can now say that I have conversed with an infant.  It all started because I was feeling sick by the time we arrived at little AHOPE, so not wanting to collapse while playing with the kids, I went into the infants room.  It was quite relaxing just sitting on the floor with them while they played.  It was also pretty uneventful.  Though that all changed when a little girl looked at me and uttered a peculiar sound, "Aaa" was basically what she said (not a hard "A" sound like Fonzy from "Happy Days," but a softer "A" sound) so naturally I said it back to her (this exchange went on for a few minutes).  Then out of nowhere she changed the dynamics of the conversation by making that noise when you kind of flick your bottom lip, so of course I went along with the new topic (I didn't want to be deemed a boring conversationalist).  This exchange has pretty much summed up my experience in Ethiopia.  I say that because it wasn't anything fancy or forced, it just happened naturally.  All of my experiences with the kids here has been something that has happened naturally and they have all been great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These kids are so amazing.  I honestly wish I were more like them.  They have been dealt an awful hand in life, but they still have fun and go on with their lives.  They are so sweet and funny and full of life.  No matter what has happened, is happenening, or will happen to them in life they just keep smiling their infectious smiles and laughing their contagious laughs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-7442131669910382728?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/7442131669910382728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=7442131669910382728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7442131669910382728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7442131669910382728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/08/ethiopia-trip-journal-entry-5.html' title='Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #5'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-6494477362939454994</id><published>2009-08-03T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T11:01:48.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #4</title><content type='html'>7-12-2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished reading "The Barbarian Way" and it has really changed my thoughts on my faith.  It made me realize that I have been playing it safe in my walk with my Saviour.  The author mentions that the entire "wall of faith" is comprised of believers that were more than willing to lay down their lives for Christ and in most cases put themselves into those life or death situations on purpose.  I want a faith like that.  One where my life is only of secondary importance and furthering my heavenly Father's kingdom takes precedence, where the needs of others become my own needs, and where my home is wherever God happens to call me to for that period of time.  God's plans for my life, I feel right now, are too grand and extraordinary for me to possibly be able to fathom at this point in my life.  I feel called to great things in my life, but I haven't the slightest idea what that all entails... but its a start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being around these children has made me very open to the possibility of adopting later on in life, like when I (hopefully) get married someday.  These kids have almost nothing going for them, yet they still are so full of joy.  Its something I could definitely learn from.  I actually told some others on the team that I kind of selfishly hope that like 4 of the kids dont get adopted for a few years, that way I could adopt them myself... but I really hope they do get adopted soon, they would be such a blessing to whoever they go to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My high-light for today (and maybe for the entire trip, thus far) was after leading a small church service for the kids, we were able to pray for them.  It was just simply amazing.  One of the boys there basically chose me as his best-friend as soon as he saw me the first day, and I was able to pray for him today.  It was just a beautiful time, so much so that I wasn't able to verbalize some of my prayer for him because I was afriad of crying and I didn't want him to see me sobbing.  It was a good time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-6494477362939454994?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/6494477362939454994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=6494477362939454994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6494477362939454994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6494477362939454994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/08/ethiopia-trip-journal-entry-4.html' title='Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #4'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-5147313949167893367</id><published>2009-07-26T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T08:33:23.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #3</title><content type='html'>7-4-2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Diary,&lt;br /&gt;I know it's been a while, so I've now decided to force myself to journal today.  This week has been long, rainy, and exhausting, but it has also been truly amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday was just a prep-day for the week, so not too much went down then.  If my memory serves me right, we may have run through the "Everything" skit a couple of times, but not too many times cause the laptop ran out of power (we have the song on the laptop, so the laptop is pretty important).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, my group went to Little AHOPE (where the smaller HIV positive children are.  I'm not sure if I mentioned it before or not, but all of the children at any of the AHOPE facilities are HIV positive).  It was a ton of fun.  We started by putting on a show with finger puppets about Noah's Ark and the kids loved it (although, they probably loved the finger puppets themselves more than the actual production we put on with the puppets).  Next, we played with them and gave them bubbles, then it was time for us to leave until the later session.  We walked back to "Lil' A," as I like to call it, for the afternoon session.  While there we played with them one more again (ebonics) and this time with Play-Doh, but the real story began on the walk back to our guesthouse.  We walked in a down-pour, like seriously you have no idea (I saw cats and dogs falling from the heavens), we walked approximately 2 miles in the pouring rain... fun times, fun times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday we were able to visit a couple of AHOPE run feeding centers (day-cares, really).  Unfortunately, we were only able to visit with the kids for an hour each time, but they were definitely fun-packed hours.  At the first feeding center, the children just swarmed us as soon as they saw us; they started grabbing our arms and putting them around them.  The group of boys that claimed me played "Spider-Man" with me (we just made our hands like we were shooting webs at each other and made like a hissing noise for when the web left our hands) and luckily I caught on quickly.  During the skits and stories we did for them, a couple of the boys just sat next to me the entire time holding my hands and putting my arms around their shoulders.  When we left I received more hugs and kisses from the kids than I could count.  It was just an amazing time from start to finish.  The second place started slower, but ended the same way.  Although, it was a little heart-breaking when the kids would ask us when we would be back, because we had no idea.  Those kids don't really have much that they can depend on besides the feeding centers, so not being able to really answer their question was hard for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday my group went to Big AHOPE (or "Big A")for a VBS type of day.  The first class went great, we told them the Noh's Ark story and it went great (just as I said earlier in the sentence).  However, all that changed with the second class; that is when we discovered that the kids in the second class were really supposed to be in the first class and all of the kids in the first class were supposed to be in either the second or third classes (the kids just sat in the room waiting for us, so we just assumed that they were in the class... but they weren't).  The rest of the classes were just so-so, but playing with the kids was awesomely fun (like always).  The kids also took pictures with my camera, so that was nice because I'm definitely not the best photographer in the world.  The kids probablt doubled the amount of pictures on my camera's memory card, so that was a blessing (they're good photographers too).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday we left for a resort 3 hours away.  It wasn't anything like an American resort, but it still had a certain likability about it.  The water was all from a local underground hot-spring (would have been awesome if it hadn't been hot there too).  It was a nice drive, in that we were able to see a different Africa than what we see everyday in Addis Ababa (meaning "New Flower" in Amharic).  Zach and I also visited where the hot-spring directly comes from (many a bathing Ethiopian men were present) and it was ridiculously hot... our feet were red from the water for 20'ish minutes after we left.  The one down-side of getting all the water from a hot-spring is that all of the water is hot (and I do mean all of the water is hot... the toilet water even).  All-in-all, it was a decent time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, we just got back from the resort and we are all pretty tired.  Not much going on for our 4th of July except relaxing and hanging-out.  I did however forget to mention that I was attacked by a cow on Friday.  We stopped at a farm on the way to the resort and evidently a cow took a real shining to me.  At first it came up to me so I petted it out of politeness, but then it went ninja-status on me and snuck-up on me from behind and licked my back (big wet-spot on the back of my shirt for a while).  I guess there is just a raw-animal-magnetism about me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-5147313949167893367?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/5147313949167893367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=5147313949167893367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5147313949167893367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5147313949167893367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/07/ethiopia-trip-journal-entry-3.html' title='Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #3'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-339162171033835847</id><published>2009-07-24T03:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T03:53:08.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #2</title><content type='html'>6-26-2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was our first full day in Ethiopia.  Yesterday we landed and it was a great relief to everyone, because it signified the end of our travels... for the time being, anyways.  After we made our way through visas and customs, we made our way to baggage pick-up.  However, half of the team was missing at least one bag (myself included).  We then went through the whole routine with the airport staff.  After said routine, we were then informed that that our bags were not lost, but that they had just not made it off of our last flight.  Instead of leaving the flight like us, our bags continued on to Entebbe, Uganda (our bags have now seen more of Africa than us).  Long story short, we were able to pick-up the rest of our luggage this morning, which was a great thing (in our missing bags were not only clothes, but also toothbrushes and the like).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After arriving yesterday and dropping our bags off at the guesthouse we are staying at, we stopped by the orphanage that we will be working with.  We arrived at the orphanage after a grueling (90 ft.) walk, and were greeted with a lot of semi-shy children.  We stayed for a few minutes and then made our trek into town to stop by the other orphanage that we will be working with.  The orphanages are run by the same people, but cater to children of different ages.  The second orphanage was for the younger children and they immediately took a shining to us.  We played with them the entire time we were there (soccer turned into monkey-in-the-middle, which turned into catching them jumping off of a short wall, which turned into piggy-back rides, which finally ended in me carrying one child on my back and one child on each of my arms).  We sadly left and made our way to a pizza place for dinner.  After dinner we rested some and then a few of us once again went to the first orphanage (with the older children).  Those that went were expecting shy kids again, but we got the exact opposite.  Those kids were ready for fun and games; we played with them for about 2 hours non-stop.  They were so much fun, and just couldn't stop laughing or smiling.  The guys I played with really liked balancing games and arm-wrestling type games.  These games started out fair until they discovered that they could beat me easier by making me play 2 of them at once or by attacking me with tickles.  The latter is what really sparked the rest of the night.  It soon became apparent that they really loved tickle fights (not everyone for themselves, but rather them vs. me)... quite the mismatch.  Inbetween the tickling, I was responsible for throwing them onto Josh's or Zach's back (leaching, if you will).  It was just an awesome time, some of the guys even helped me out by wiping my face off of sweat.  It was truly a blessing to see them having so much fun... it's hard to put into words how great it really was, but it is something I'm sure will stay with me forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-339162171033835847?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/339162171033835847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=339162171033835847' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/339162171033835847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/339162171033835847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/07/ethiopia-trip-journal-entry-2.html' title='Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #2'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-7637918353377789180</id><published>2009-07-24T02:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T03:25:24.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #1</title><content type='html'>6-24-2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just got off of an 8 1/2 hour flight from Charlotte, NC to Frankfurt, Germany.  For an 8 1/2 hour flight, it wasn't all that bad; we were able to choose what in flight movies we wanted to watch via an in-demand option (I watched Gran Torino and some of Seven Pounds).  The meal wasn't too shabby either (think a glorified TV dinner).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the relative luxury (I use that word rather loosely) of the flight, it was definitely appreciated when we finally landed.  Being able to stretch out after being human sardines for 8 1/2 hours was nice (major understatement).  Although, my legs were pretty weak from the lack of use (almost fell multiple times down and up stairs).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, Frankfurt's airport is pretty spacious... and void of many people (at the time of writing anyways).  After entering the airport (there is probably a fancy, technical term for "entering" but it is only my second time flying, so you'll have to forgive me) we "claimed" our baggage and all was well, or so we (really just me) thought.  I proceeded to grab my big, heavy bag, but unbeknownst to me,one of the handle straps ripped during the flight over.  Needless to say ( but I will, because it probably isn't "needless to say"), it was quite awkward to carry around.  It would be impossible to describe in words how I had to carry my luggage, so if you really need to know I will panamime it for you later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random trip notes thus far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Woke up at 3 AM to catch our 7:30 AM flight from LAX to Charlotte, NC.&lt;br /&gt;- Sat in the very last row of the first flight inbetween Elise and some spacially challenged lady (she crossed the arm-rest boundary repeatedly, often initiating elbow-to-elbow contact with me, but instead of moving har arm back to where it came from, she would leave it there so our arms would be awkwardly touching until I would relent and move my arm even though mine was there first).&lt;br /&gt;- I finally met someone with a real, authentic southern accent.&lt;br /&gt;- Sabrina said a contestant on the Bachelorette reminded her of me (he was kicked off literally 30 seconds after she said that... plus he seemed like a loser, he was cheated 4 different times, so I guess his luch with the ladies is close to mine... similarity?)&lt;br /&gt;- Somewhat related-random note, several otherssaid they should nominate me as the next Bachelor... stop the nomination.  Also, Mabel said I should go on the show, because "it's possible for someone like you (meaning me) to maybe find love."  Thanks for the confidence boost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finally done now.  Write again later, probably when we finally reach Ethiopia, but maybe when we get to Dubai.  Later gators.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-7637918353377789180?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/7637918353377789180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=7637918353377789180' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7637918353377789180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7637918353377789180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/07/ethiopia-trip-journal-entry-1.html' title='Ethiopia Trip Journal Entry #1'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-7679366985722542102</id><published>2009-06-24T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T17:06:27.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dub-Dub-Dubai!!!</title><content type='html'>Hello and greetings from the airport in Dubai.  This was an unexpected event (posting on my blog while on the trip), so this will be pretty short.  We have made it all the way to Dubai from LAX and it has only taken 3 flights to do so.  I won't write anything more about the flights because I am journaling for future posts once I return to the states.  I have also taken 4 pictures thus far, so I may have a few more by the time we return.  Future posts may have pictures from the trip attached or a link to Flickr or something so everyone may view at their own pace.  Also, I will try to include "random trip facts" with each post about the trip... just so you can get a feel for more of the trip than what will be discussed in bulkin the rest of the posts.  I guess that will do it for now, so please keep me and the rest of the team in your prayers for the duration of our trip.  Can't wait to share all of our stories with you when I get back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later peeps,&lt;br /&gt;Tim K.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-7679366985722542102?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/7679366985722542102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=7679366985722542102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7679366985722542102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/7679366985722542102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/06/dub-dub-dubai.html' title='Dub-Dub-Dubai!!!'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-8838749767033996779</id><published>2009-06-16T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T23:00:59.958-07:00</updated><title type='text'>T-Minus 1 Week</title><content type='html'>EXTRA!  EXTRA!  Tim Krapivkin received two more vaccination injections (I just think that "injections" sounds so much more B.A. than "shots")!  This time around I got my meningitis (I know, I should have gotten that one a while ago) and my yellow fever vaccines.  It may just be me, but needles seem to tear up muscle tissue like no other.  My left shoulder had just gotten over the soreness of the last shots I had and then today I got another one right in my left shoulder.  Oh mama(!), is it sore right now.  On the bright side however, I did get a couple of sweet band-aids for my trouble (a Bugs Bunny one and I believe the other was a Daffy Duck).  So the trip for more shots wasn't completely fruitless.  Speaking of fruitless, I think the receptionist may have been "happy" and he wants me to post photos of my trip on Flickr so he can look at them (I didn't even wear a V-neck this time.  I was, however, wearing shorts so it may have been in response to my "Greek God" calves.  I guess Kara and Katie weren't joking around about that).  Anywho, I'm basically all squared away on the shots I need (although, I do get one more hepatitis A &amp;amp; B combo on Friday.  Bringing my shot total up to 7 in an 8 day span) and then I'm off to Ethiopia next Tuesday and will be gone til July 21st.  Now before everyone goes into panic mode after reading the last part of the last sentence, I will do my best at keeping a journal over there so I will be able to fill all of you in on what happened over there when I return.  However, journaling does seem to be my only natural nemesis on the earth (right behind the evil man that uses the leaf blower at school at 8 AM) so my entries may not be much, but it will be better than nothing and if I am able to journal everyday, there should be an adequate amount of reading material for you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just wouldn't be a "Thats What She Said..." blog without some sort of randomness.  So with that in mind, I would just like to say how pathetic the management of the San Francisco Giants really is.  Sabean finally got a clue when he demoted Burriss to triple-A Fresno today, but he still has Fred Lewis with the major league team and a perennial waste of playing time in Rich Aurillia.  Those two players have been given more than enough opportunity to prove they can play at the highest level, but they haven't shown they can.  They are road blocks for the players that are in the minors that will actually help the Giants in the future.  Instead of playing younger guys that are showing promise, the Giants keep giving out second chances (and third and fourth and fifth and sixth and... you get the point) to these two.  But Sabean isn't the one entirely responsible for this mess (although, he is the one keeping those two in the majors for God knows what reason), Bochy is the one that keeps plugging them into the line-up.  Bochy shows the baseball intelligence of a squirrell (and not the one that can water ski, he could probably manage better than Bochy).  The Giants have not given Travis Ishikawa any real chance to play at First and only give Andres Torres a pinch-hit at-bat here and there.  Torres smashed a homerun yesterday and rewarded tonight by being kept in the dugout the entire game (which was a lost cause in the 4th inning thanks to Bochy's ineptitude and Sabeans pathetic mismanagement of the organization).  I will reiterate what I had said in an earlier post; the Giants better fire Bochy and Sabean by next year or my faith in humanity (or more specifically, my faith in the Giants franchise) will be utterly annihilated (again, I think "annihilated" sounds much more B.A. than "shattered" or "destroyed").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight cyberspace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-8838749767033996779?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/8838749767033996779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=8838749767033996779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/8838749767033996779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/8838749767033996779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/06/t-minus-1-week.html' title='T-Minus 1 Week'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-9032560026506560442</id><published>2009-06-12T23:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T00:34:24.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Very Long Day</title><content type='html'>My day started with a knocking on my door by my mother at 8:20 AM (better known as, "40 minutes before I set my alarm for").  The very unexpected wake-up call was provoked by my mom having a massive dizzy-spell and being unable to drive into town to take care of our vacationing friends' dogs.  I sluggishly exited my bed and began to become more and more conscious to the world with each step I took.  In about 10 minutes I was as awake as I would ever be given the circumstances, so I drove my mom to our friends house so she could let the dogs out (yes, apparently my mother is the answer to that age old question) and feed them.  After our work (really her's, I just sat on their couch until she was done) there was over, we came back home and I then sat on our couch until my mom was ready to go down to a travel clinic in Palm Springs (so I could get my vaccinations for my trip to Ethiopia).  I knew I'd be getting a few shots, but I didn't really figure I would get 4 shots at once (not all simultaneously, that would be crazy).  I was fine for the drive back home and everything, but about a half an hour after getting back home, my arms got sore (like somebody had just given me a dead-arm in each arm).  Even now, about 11 hours after I received my shots, my arms are a little bit tender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The previous paragraph was mainly peripheral information (sorry you already read that, but it wasn't that bad of a read, was it?), what I really want to share with you all is my experience down at the travel clinic.  Now, you are all probably thinking, "Whats so great about a travel clinic?  It's just doctors and stuff, right?"  To answer your first question, I will later, so just be patient (kind of ironic word choice, "patient," since its about my visit to a travel clinic).  To answer your second question, you couldn't be any more wrong.  This clinic was crazy (imagine a "Nacho Libre" accent for the word "crazy" because thats just how "crazy" it was).  It was basically a WWII museum; there were old WWII magazine covers, old war bond ads, old knick-knacks (no paddy-whacks however) with WWII anti-Axis propaganda, and even old newspapers with different headlines from the war.  There was a big, plasma-screen TV playing the movie "Patton" on it, this place was tricked-out indeed (there was even an old air-plane propeller from the war that said, and I kid you not, "Keep 'em Flyin' and Japs Keep on Dyin'," who came up with this stuff?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After filling out those stupid forms and signing/initialing all of those papers that make them not liable for my death (who reads all of those things?  Its possible that I may have signed over all my future children to them, but I don't read those things, so I guess we'll find out in the event that I ever do have a child), I was called into the back rooms where all of the treatment takes place.  I had to do the usual: height, weight, blood-pressure, and heart-rate.  I did what I always do when having my heart-rate and blood-pressure taken, and that is I try to relax my entire body and breathe slowly (the last thing I want to do is find out I'm on the fast-track to a heart-attack).  Apparently my little trick is very effective, because my heart-rate was 60 and my blood-pressure was 100/74.  The nurse performing these tests, a male nurse (in PALM SPRINGS!!!), asked me if I worked out, this kind of caught me off guard.  I was thinking he was trying to hit on me.  I didn't want to say more than I had to in order to answer that question, so I replied with a very unenthusiastic "yes."  At about the same time that I was regretting my decision to wear a V-neck t-shirt, he said he was asking because my readings were "below-average" or something like that ( I wasn't really paying attention at that point because I was still feeling a little uncomfortable).  Anyways, he gave me my shots and kept explaining over and over (and over and over and over) again what else I needed to do to get ready for my trip (he also used the phrase, "you know what I'm saying?" repeatedly... I didn't start counting right away, but I still counted 7 times... and that was just in his conversation with my mom about what he had already explained to me several times).  In spite of all that happened once my turn came up, that place was alright in my book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-9032560026506560442?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/9032560026506560442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=9032560026506560442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/9032560026506560442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/9032560026506560442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/06/very-long-day.html' title='A Very Long Day'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-4531930551585536774</id><published>2009-06-08T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T23:31:18.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxiety-Inducing Observations</title><content type='html'>I finally took the time to look over the many options presented to me by this fine blogging website, such as: the font, font size, adding pictures/videos, links, etc...  I feel a teeny-tiny-bit overwhelmed by all of the possibilities (they really are limitless).  I feel I could make this small-time, low-budget (a.k.a. no budget) blog something really special that people from all the corners of the globe (which if you take the time to think about that phrase, "all the corners of the globe," it makes absolutely no sense at all... globes are spherical, hence no corners) would fight to get to computers just so they could read (although, if fights really did start due to my blogging abilities, I would feel sad... and guilty).  Alas, the nearly infinite amount of possibilites that can be a bit anxiety-inducing.  I guess the blogging saying is true, not the one saying "blogging is a completely ridiculous waste of time," but rather the older one (from the year 273 BC... of course I am approximating) saying "blogging is not for the faint of heart."  I am not retiring from blogging, oh the contrary, but I will probably never again think of the awesomeness that could be this blog if I were to utilize the many cool features at my fingertips.  Maybe someday I will scrape-up enough courage to try-out one of the do-hickeys, but until that day comes I will continue to blog in a very plain way.  Like they say, "modest is hottest (although, I am not entirely positive that they were referring to blogging when they said that)."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my dad and I watched Iron Man (or the Iron Man as my mom says... I guess you would have had to be there for that to really be funny to you at all) tonight.  We watched all the way through the credits to watch that Avenger-teaser-clip-thinga-ma-bobber, after which my dad asked me how many people stayed in the theater to watch that 20 second scene after enduring around 10 minutes of rolling credits.  The question struck me as odd, because I seem to stay through most end credits nowadays just in the off-chance that that particular movie has an end scene.  However, I then realized I just don't really have a life, so what is an extra 10 minutes sitting in a nearly empty theater just in case there is an end scene to me?  My nerdiness/dorkiness/geekiness has reached a new low.  In fact, my previous low was when I was probably around 5 or 6 and was at Superstar Video and I began to cry because of all the "scary" pictures on the movies covers.  I'm sure there are some other lows in between that one and my current revelation, but i have either blocked them out of my memory (due to the trama caused by the experiences) or they just weren't "all-time-new-lows."  In any case, I now feel obligated to walk out of my next movie screening during the end credits in an attempt to regain any manliness/coolness that I may have lost while watching the credits roll down the screen.  Hopefully this realization will help me further down this road called "life."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-4531930551585536774?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/4531930551585536774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=4531930551585536774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/4531930551585536774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/4531930551585536774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/06/anxiety-inducing-observations.html' title='Anxiety-Inducing Observations'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-5471956463544835400</id><published>2009-06-05T23:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T00:04:43.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Current Predicament</title><content type='html'>I find myself, once again, not tired and wanting (only cause nothing is on TV now; TV purgatory) to sleep.  I'd watch a movie or play a video game to pass time, but I'm not really wanting to invest any time into either of those activities.  So I've resorted to the next best thing: blogging.  I really have nothing of importance to write about, nor do I have any stories to amuse you (but mainly myself).  But that is all fine and dandy, because I really haven't had much to write about before, but I did anyways.  The randomness follows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've found myself thinking a lot about relationships lately.  Not so much about how I am lacking in that particular department, but more about how someone goes about finding their "soulmate."  These thoughts have been directly put into my mind after running into several friends of mine that are married or are about to tie the knot.  On a side-note, I have realized that being home reminds me that I'm single more than being at school, because all of my friends at home are married or about to be married or are at least seeing somebody regularly... I feel like I'm that one friend that nobody really wants around, but odds are if you do something without them you will run into them and that would just be too awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved, so you allow them to tag along and talk with them just enough to where they'd never suspect they were a "sympathy invite."  Anyways, getting back on track, my thoughts are how did they all find their "special-someone"? (should the question mark be inside the quotation mark?)  I try to remember how they all met to see if they did something particular to attract their favorite member of the opposite gender, but alas I have not come up with any fool-proof method for finding a mate of the soul variety (soulmate, if you didn't get it).  With no new approach to use (assuming I had a previous approach), I will just try my best to let things happen naturally.  On a somewhat-related note, is telling the person you are interested in (a.k.a. - your "crush," but I'd rather not use that term due to it being a feminine-type of term) that you are, well, interested in them allowing things to move naturally?  Rhetorical/hypothetical question (kind of,... not so much).  I'm sure by now everyone is tired of reading my emo'ish relationship rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Tuesday I will be receiving shots for my missions trip to Ethiopia (or "Ethio... E-E-Ethiopia," as my trip-mates would call it).  This is all good and everything, but I'm potentially facing somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 shots in total.  I can handle giving blood, but I haven't gotten a shot in a while.  The very thought of getting one brings me back to the days when I would scream and cry afterwards (it was a long time ago... at least several years).  I will consider the trip for shots a success if I am not reduced to a blubbering mound of man... and I maintain consciousness throughout the entire ordeal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-5471956463544835400?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/5471956463544835400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=5471956463544835400' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5471956463544835400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5471956463544835400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-current-predicament.html' title='My Current Predicament'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-3703772075061195729</id><published>2009-05-30T15:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T16:23:47.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neither Here Nor There</title><content type='html'>So the other day my mom was calling a new doctor that we got along with our shiny-new insurance plan.  She was trying to make an appointment for me so I could finally get a lumpy-knotty-thing looked at by a professional (not my friends that I showed it to in hopes of getting an "Eew!" from them).  While talking to the secretary, she was asked for my birthdate.  Instead of saying my birthdate, she quickly demanded that I give her my birthdate.  She didn't remember my birthday, I'm her first-born.  What makes it even worse is that the secretary wasn't asking for my birthdate, but rather for my dad's (since he is the policy holder).  When she was told that my birthdate was not needed, but my dad's was, she immediately spit-out his birthdate with surprising accuracy.  She didn't remember her first-born's birthday, she remembered my dad's birthday, and she will never forget my brother's birthday (he was born on Christmas Eve and is known by my mother as her, "Little Christmas Baby!").  I could very easily put on "FML" right here, but that may be considered copyright infringement and I'm not about to get sued over something like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is alumni baseball game tomorrow after church and I, being an alumni, am going to be playing.  However, I have not actually played in a game in over two years (not that I haven't tried, but others have tried their best to keep me in the stands instead of the dugout).  Needless to say, I'm a little bit rusty (by "a little bit rusty" I really mean, "I'm probably going to suck something awful, but since I haven't really tested out my current capabilities I cannot really say that in complete confidence").  So to correct this, I decided to train a little, and I mean very little... as in the last two-days-little.  My shoulder is now sore, my whole left hand is something resembling a throbbing-blistery nub (complete exaggeration, I only have one small blister on my thumb that may have even been caused by yard-work and not baseball related activities.  I was going for sympathy), and I'm probably going to suck (I am, unfortunately, not exaggerating this fact).  Despite all of this, it should be a lot of fun: getting to play the game I love, just getting to play without any record suffering, and getting to see guys I played with several years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, last night to be more specific, there was open-gym at my old stomping grounds (high school to the laymen).  And if you know me, you also know that I am completely inept at anything and everything related to basketball.  But, if you know me, you also know that my ineptness (is that even a word?) at basketball doesn't keep me from going out there and trying my darndest (or looking completely and utterly foolish).  More often than not (translation: every single time, without fail) I am picked towards the end (translation: very last, sometimes even going unpicked because the team captains "couldn't" see me or "thought" that I was already picked), and my play (and confidence) go down the drain as a result.  However, last night I was picked in the middle (HOORAY FOR MEDIOCRITY!!!!!) and my play was actually decent (for the first game anyways...), but as quickly as my skills came to me they also disappeared without even leaving a trace behind.  The rest of the guys may have gotten a good laugh at some of the things I did last night, but it is I who am having the last laugh all because they were the ones that wouldn't let me be the last pick (that honor went to a forty-something-year-old guy with a bit of a belly... he often used that as a way of boxing out smaller children).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-3703772075061195729?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/3703772075061195729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=3703772075061195729' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3703772075061195729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3703772075061195729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/05/neither-here-nor-there.html' title='Neither Here Nor There'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-6978760899676639305</id><published>2009-05-24T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T01:09:59.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Tootsie Pop" Rant</title><content type='html'>This will probably be the most irrelevant entry ever.  You have had warning, so continue reading... if you dare... that was a lame attempt at a joke, for which I apologize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am most certain everyone who reads this has seen (or at least knows of) the "Tootsie Pop" commercials, where an adolescent is in search of the answer to the question "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a 'Tootsie Pop'?"  First he encounters a turtle that does not know the answer, but he politely points him in the direction of the wise old owl.  Upon finding the owl, he pops the BIG question ("How many licks does it take to get to the center of a 'Tootsie Pop'?"), the owl promptly takes the "Tootsie Pop" in question and begins licking and counting.  However, the owl only licks 3 times before giving up and devouring the remaining "Tootsie Pop" and then tells the adolescent that it takes 3 licks to reach the center.  Then the ominous voice-over guy utters the famous words, "The world may never know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always had a problem with that commercial.  There was just something that irked me so about it.  I could never quite put my finger on it (i just figured I hated the owl for not sincerely trying to count how many licks it would take to reach the center), but I have come up with some reasons.  Here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.)  The freaking adolescent has the "Tootsie Pop" along with that question burned into his brain for some odd reason, yet instead of finding out for himself, he turns to animals for the answer.  Animals cannot communicate with humans using language... stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.)  The turtle (apparently thought wise enough by the kid to answer his queery) doesn't show that he has any brains whatsoever.  He is an old turtle that doesn't seem to be portrayed as being healthy (or happy for that matter).  He should have taken the candy basically being handed to him by the dumb kid, eaten it while counting licks, and died happily.  However, now the turtle is probably dead and never knew the sweet taste of a "Tootsie Pop"... stupid turtle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.)  The owl is evil (it seems that "Tootsie Pop" advertisers stole a page out of Jesus' parables, by using birds as a picture of evil).  The owl completely takes advantage of an all-too-trusting child (albeit a dumb child).  He never really tries to get to the bottom of the question at hand, he just eats it as fast as he can and then hands the lollipopless stick back to the kid... evil, dumb owl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.)  the commercial contributed to obesity in children (before you disregard that last statement, hear me out... or read me out, whatever is the correct phrase for blogging), though it was in a somewhat round-about way.  The child is too lazy to eat the candy that he has, obesity in children is due to inactivity (though, an obese child would probably eat a "Tootsie Pop" faster than you could say, "Dang, that kid ate that candy fast!!!") .  That is how I feel the commercial contributed to childhood obesity.  He doesn't do anything on his own, he seeks out others for help.  Inactivity can lead to larger than normal children which is worse than how the kid in the commercial ended up (sad and with an empty lollipop stick more than likely covered in owl saliva).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of the characters in the commercial are worthy of cheering for:  the child is dumb and lazy, the turtle is slow (not just speed-wise, but thinking-wise as well, and the owl is basically satan in fowl form.  Plus, the message it sends out is awful (though it might be a better idea as a parent to feed animals candy than to give your 2-year-old 5 pancakes, plus hashbrowns, plus french-toast, and giving them a chocolate shake to wash it all down with).  The last point is kind of a catch-22, in that the kid is lazy, but also seems to be exhibiting an adequate diet.  It might be better than a lazy kid who eats the "Tootsie Pop" without even counting how many licks...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-6978760899676639305?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/6978760899676639305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=6978760899676639305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6978760899676639305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6978760899676639305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/05/tootsie-pop-rant.html' title='&quot;Tootsie Pop&quot; Rant'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-1819799521527142215</id><published>2009-05-21T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T00:10:45.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It...</title><content type='html'>... weird to love the smell in the desert after it has rained?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... wrong to like being home alone, if only for the chance at being able to sing as loudly as I desire without fear of familial judgment?  (no homo)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... bad to find a "Thats what she said!" comment in almost every conversation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... sad that this is my second blog entry in the last two days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... awful for me to already be tired of being home for the summer when it hasn't even been two full weeks since I got here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... hot in here, or is it just me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... lame of me to try to always end AIM and text conversations with a clever and witty line?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... at all possible to get "black-lung" from inhaling saw dust?  Or is it reserved only for coal miners?  Or would it be possible to get something like "black-lung" from sawdust called "sandy-colored-lung," like "black-lung's" distant cousin twice removed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... odd that I find myself more humorous while sitting behind a screen and keyboard, whether it be a computer or cell phone or whatever else has a screen and a keyboard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... OK that I end this entry now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-1819799521527142215?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/1819799521527142215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=1819799521527142215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/1819799521527142215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/1819799521527142215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/05/is-it.html' title='Is It...'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-5622357773032012075</id><published>2009-05-21T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T01:27:51.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Musings of an Insomniac?</title><content type='html'>It has come to my attention since coming back home for the summer that I have a hard time getting to sleep before 1 or 2 in the morning. Now, back at school thats really nothing, but being at home where my parents often go to bed shortly after 10 pm and I'm left to try and find something on tv to watch to entertain myself until I feel tired enough to at least try and go to sleep (let's be real, ESPN is awesome, but they tend to just show replayed shows at around 11 pm and the History Channel, Discovery Channel, and the National Geographic Channel just show the same shows in a row after 10 pm. After 10 pm is basically television purgatory). I am still unable to sleep and it is 1:10 am. I may be suffering from insomnia, but I'm not 100% clear on all the details of that, so I don't really feel comfortable saying I'm an insomniac... yet, anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kris Allen won American Idol, I know you were all dying to know who won (I hope you all could figure out that I was being sarcastic). I'm not a real avid watcher of American Idol, but I watched tonight in hopes of seeing the awkwardly--gothicly--flambouantly--over-rated, Adam lose. It was a sweet victory for all who were somewhat scared of Adam's... well, I'm not really sure how to properly describe his clothing, hair, make-up (why does any man ever need to wear make-up, especially voluntarily?), and shrieking of the high-notes in every FREAKIN' song.  The weird dude (?) lost, my faith in humanity is restored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Giants have lost 2 staright to the Padres, both by the score of 2 - 1.  I know the Giants offense is, for lack of a better term, offensive, but only scoring 2 runs in 2 games against the Padres is horrible.  Last I checked the Giants were second in the NL West, but this series is making me question for how much longer.  Barry Zito even pitched well in the first game, but still didn't get the win... my feelings are, you just don't know how many good starts Barry Zito has in him, so score some runs when he pitches to at least give yourselves a fighting chance.  One last note about the Giants... if Brian Sabean and Bruce Bochy keep their jobs for next season, then my hope in humanity (that was just restored by Kris Allen winning American Idol) will be destroyed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-5622357773032012075?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/5622357773032012075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=5622357773032012075' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5622357773032012075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/5622357773032012075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/05/random-musings-of-insomniac.html' title='Random Musings of an Insomniac?'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-8132352918073344393</id><published>2009-05-11T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T14:36:34.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Day of Summer</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday marked my first full day back at home for the summer. Overall, it was a very relaxing day: watched a couple baseball games, hung out with my mom for Mother's Day, ate good food (no more caf for 4 months), and best of all, I didn't have to worry about school work for the upcoming week. It was a tad bit boring, but nothing to really destroy my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I had a nice day, I should have figured that my night would somehow ruin it. I decided to try and go to sleep at around 11 so I could wake up early and go running, however my head had other plans. I fell asleep fine, but I tossed and turned until 4:30 this morning when I finally woke-up due to a headache. I tried to power through the headache and fall asleep again, but after several minutes it became apparent that that would be impossible. I then went to the kitchen and found some sleeping pills, so I took a couple (the recommended dosage, so don't fret). I then went back to bed hopeful to sleep again until my alarm would awaken me at 7:30. However, those pills I took must have expired or something, because I didn't fall asleep again for another couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if that weren't bad enough, my alarm on my phone failed to go off. It would appear that my phone decided to start turning itself off again for no reason. It is currently working now though. I ended up waking up at 11, so it was a 12 hour adventure for me, from the time&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-8132352918073344393?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/8132352918073344393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=8132352918073344393' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/8132352918073344393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/8132352918073344393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-first-day-of-summer.html' title='My First Day of Summer'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-3739493213711774725</id><published>2008-10-10T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T23:55:24.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Make My Day</title><content type='html'>So, if you couldn't tell by the title, this blog is about my day today (Fall Holiday).  This was a good day, made so by many different things; things that normally may not be associated with a good day, but oh it was.  Anywho, my day started around 11 or so, because I was finally able to sleep in due to the amazing fact that my classes had been cancelled (a mysterious "holiday" called "Fall Holiday," thank you Vanguard).  Then I went to the caf with some of my pals: Jake, Matt Angell, and there may have been a third, but I don't really remember.  While searching for a table to eat at, we stumbled upon Kyle and his chica (Amanda), luckily they had many open chairs at their table, thus we ate with them.  After lunch I was able to play some NCAA Football '08 (fun game) while awaiting Brennan's return from practice, so we could leave for Disneyland.  He finally showed up and we left for "the happiest place on earth."  This is the part of my day when it appeared that it was going to be crappy.  At this point, you may be asking yourself, "how could someone have a crappy day at Disneyland?"  Well, stop thinking and keep reading to find out.  While at Disneyland I was practically forced onto the Tower of Terror, not so much physically forced, but through the art of peer pressure.  While on that horrid ride, the guys seated in front of me laughed at me and Jake and Matt Angell (a.k.a. the two worst guys to sit between on that ride) wouldn't let me hold the handle bars, which are there to be held by people like me.  To make a long story short: that ride sucked, California Screamin' was tight, Indiana Jones was broken after 20 minutes of waiting in line, so was Thunder Mountain, and then it was too cold to wait and watch the fireworks, so we left.  Luckily, also to make the story shorter: found unopened can of rootbeer, dropped said can of rootbeer from the 7th floor, went to Albertson's, got roasted chicken from Albertson's, and watched Superbad while eating said roasted chicken from Albertson's.  All in all, it was a good "Fall Holiday."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-3739493213711774725?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/3739493213711774725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=3739493213711774725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3739493213711774725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3739493213711774725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2008/10/make-my-day.html' title='Make My Day'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-291769342010306895</id><published>2008-09-29T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T16:18:35.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Timid Tigers: Game 1 Analysis</title><content type='html'>So yesterday marked the first day of the intramural flag-football season, and it was a glorious first day. The mighty Timid Tigers won their first game by the score of 32-8. Needless to say, it was a splendid victory. Five different Tiger players scored touchdowns and the ferocious defense forced five more interceptions. It was an all around team victory. And special kudos' go out to the wonderful floor moms of second floor Huntington Hall for bringing the much needed orange slices for halftime nourishment. Also, the coaches didn't seem mess up the game for the Timid Tigers either, so congratulations to all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. - NCAA Football 2008 appears to have an underlying prejudice towards non-BCS football teams and conferences. Whether this flaw was intentional (an ode to real-life prejudice towards the small-school teams) or not, is yet to be discovered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-291769342010306895?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/291769342010306895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=291769342010306895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/291769342010306895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/291769342010306895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2008/09/timid-tigers-game-1-analysis.html' title='Timid Tigers: Game 1 Analysis'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-3948669431023807482</id><published>2008-09-26T15:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T15:53:03.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sad Time in My Life</title><content type='html'>I am now convinced that I am without much of a life, this realization came moments ago when I noticed a peculiar utterence leave my mouth... "I'm bored, I think I'm gonna blog." What a sad day this is for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To end this on another sad note... I'm hungry and its not even 4 pm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-3948669431023807482?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/3948669431023807482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=3948669431023807482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3948669431023807482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/3948669431023807482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-now-convinced-that-i-am-without.html' title='A Sad Time in My Life'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-2832971179069264958</id><published>2008-09-17T21:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T00:00:58.972-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Friend and You Know Who</title><content type='html'>So there is this guy I know, we'll call him "My Friend" and he likes this girl, we'll call her "You Know Who."  Anyways, My Friend likes You Know Who a lot, but he is tragically shy and pessimistic when it comes to his chances with her.  It's even gotten to the point where he rejected her asking him to dance.  So sad, and thats without even knowing the details to the incident.  The details are as follows: he was wanting to dance when he arrived at the place of dancing, he likes her, she asked him why he wasn't dancing and even said that he should (possibly with her and her friends, the details on that are still somewhat unclear), and he DIDN'T!!!  The answer to the question of why he didn't may be as elusive as the answer to "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?"  Pray for him, that one day My Friend may be brave enough to actually talk to You Know Who.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-2832971179069264958?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/2832971179069264958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=2832971179069264958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/2832971179069264958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/2832971179069264958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-friend-and-you-know-who.html' title='My Friend and You Know Who'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-6988321995666190888</id><published>2008-09-15T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T23:09:56.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Star Canyon</title><content type='html'>Last night 7 peeps and I went on an adventure to the "haunted" Black Star Canyon. I was unaware of it's history, according to Wikipedia (always a reliable source), until after we returned from our journey. Needless to say, it was very FREAKIN' creepy. However, we technically never saw anything that could be confirmed as "what the eff was that?", we thought we encountered several strange things though, such as: a moving shadow, something jumping behind a bush, a weird bird call, and some satanic drumming. Despite the lack of screaming like little girls, it was a scary time. Then to cap it off, Josh said he saw a figure hauling towards us, so he yelled "RUN!!!", of course we booked it before ever asking "why?" It was the perfect end to a perfect "adventure."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-6988321995666190888?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/6988321995666190888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=6988321995666190888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6988321995666190888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/6988321995666190888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2008/09/black-star-canyon-fact-and-fiction.html' title='Black Star Canyon'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8175184938375177976.post-2076225292538183725</id><published>2008-09-15T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T22:17:58.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Making This Thing</title><content type='html'>Creating this blasted blog was rather difficult and frustrating, as Brenny can confirm.  Apparently I already had a Google account thus I had to search for my old password, but that was an epic failure.  Eventually I had Google send me the "change password" stuff, so now it is all kosher.  Now I'm just like my floor moms!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8175184938375177976-2076225292538183725?l=hh216.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/feeds/2076225292538183725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8175184938375177976&amp;postID=2076225292538183725' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/2076225292538183725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8175184938375177976/posts/default/2076225292538183725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hh216.blogspot.com/2008/09/making-this-thing.html' title='Making This Thing'/><author><name>Timothy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07749513497134942806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u3MTN5ey6Iw/SM9Gtt3_CGI/AAAAAAAAAAM/a8qDNDlx1pw/S220/partay.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
