<?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-8569590</id><updated>2012-01-11T18:00:26.557-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Car Full of Pipe Smokers</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>68</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2538115177018956778</id><published>2010-05-08T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T21:46:48.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Correction</title><content type='html'>There is a song that claims "1" to be the loneliest number. I have recently discovered an error in the writer's calculation, and, in fact, the loneliest number is: 0.097137. &lt;br /&gt;Further investigation shows the happiest number to be: 19,995,712 and the most forlorn to be: 93. &lt;br /&gt;Please adjust your records, accordingly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2538115177018956778?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2538115177018956778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2538115177018956778' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2538115177018956778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2538115177018956778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2010/05/correction.html' title='Correction'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-826868393561283393</id><published>2010-05-08T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T21:29:47.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Apology</title><content type='html'>Oh! I'm very sorry! My mistake! My bad!&lt;br /&gt;I thought we were going to listen to the birth of stars,&lt;br /&gt;together,&lt;br /&gt;a Radio Planet,&lt;br /&gt;green screens and all.&lt;br /&gt;But you didn't stop when I stopped.&lt;br /&gt;At the foot of the hill,&lt;br /&gt;You kept on going into the woods,&lt;br /&gt;deeply,&lt;br /&gt;into the echo-y box of trees.&lt;br /&gt;Under your arm, a star chart.&lt;br /&gt;in your pocket, a revolver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm terribly sorry that I read you wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Because, now I'm waiting,&lt;br /&gt;in this nightclub of filth,&lt;br /&gt;closed and sour,&lt;br /&gt;dark and fake.&lt;br /&gt;The machines are turned off and the &lt;br /&gt;room smells like ruined liquor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was this the trap? Your plan?&lt;br /&gt;to back off the gas at the critical&lt;br /&gt;moment?&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, &lt;br /&gt;because you're there, &lt;br /&gt;and I'm here,&lt;br /&gt;but the least you could do &lt;br /&gt;is grab an axe and&lt;br /&gt;start digging,&lt;br /&gt;because,&lt;br /&gt;If we're not going up,&lt;br /&gt;we need to go down.&lt;br /&gt;This middle ground is making&lt;br /&gt;me tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-826868393561283393?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/826868393561283393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=826868393561283393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/826868393561283393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/826868393561283393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2010/05/apology.html' title='An Apology'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2457630967149133727</id><published>2010-05-07T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T21:43:00.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Columbus report</title><content type='html'>Columbus discovered America because he was an explorer. He was working for Europe to get more valuables for them. Some of the things he got were called, tobacco, leather and gold. Columbus had a mighty fleet of ships, that was included the maramack, the prince and the pinot noir. he made people come out of the woods with the valuables or he'd kill'em. One time he built a castle at the beach with the cutting down of trees for protection and valuables storage. Columbus wore certain fashions of cloths like Spanish outfits and war outfits. He was brave and smart. One time he and his men builded a robot out of twine, a whiskey barrel and some gears from an ancient machine they had on board one of their antique ships. I say antique because it was so old when they did all this.&lt;br /&gt;the robot was just for fun, but they messed up when they put the gears in it, and that mistake made it learn like a person. It learned everything about exploring and ran off into the forests of America. That's how we got technology, but the lord of England wanted it back for hisself, so they fought us in a bloody war of eons called the revolutionist war. The Englands fought hard as beasts but they were also fighting against a french country at the same time and had to leave real fast to help fight that one, so we won in a forfeit that started America.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2457630967149133727?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2457630967149133727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2457630967149133727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2457630967149133727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2457630967149133727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2010/05/columbus-report.html' title='Columbus report'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-3674841660522084636</id><published>2010-05-07T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T20:28:22.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What poetry sounds like to me</title><content type='html'>The Shoushound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brickled bricks&lt;br /&gt;a tomb constructed&lt;br /&gt;feathered health and crimpled brickashanter&lt;br /&gt;pleeb&lt;br /&gt;brownrick tunish&lt;br /&gt;and haveled brandisheer&lt;br /&gt;a ploob&lt;br /&gt;your head a crackin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;robot asterisk &lt;br /&gt;jammin gander&lt;br /&gt;a pockish roob of&lt;br /&gt;lamptin blather&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;horn the cope&lt;br /&gt;of mulish broobs&lt;br /&gt;a carn but lake&lt;br /&gt;can stain thine boobs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blarth tilth paynins&lt;br /&gt;can not the hithered probbcock splaine&lt;br /&gt;arsh of gander &lt;br /&gt;is across the helgish rhine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-3674841660522084636?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/3674841660522084636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=3674841660522084636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/3674841660522084636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/3674841660522084636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-poetry-sounds-like-to-me.html' title='What poetry sounds like to me'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2124464984644075948</id><published>2010-04-29T07:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T07:40:00.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Early Childhood</title><content type='html'>When I was a child, my Grandmother would sit by my bed in a rocking chair, smoking an old pipe. She would tell me about the importance of labor unions and sooth me to sleep with her bow and saw.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2124464984644075948?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2124464984644075948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2124464984644075948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2124464984644075948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2124464984644075948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2010/04/early-childhood.html' title='Early Childhood'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2565067142762012975</id><published>2010-04-01T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T20:01:37.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laszlo</title><content type='html'>Laszlo was sad. he has spent the whole morning walking around in the barn, among the feathers and leather scraps from the explosion. &lt;br /&gt;It wasn't so much that he was afraid of failure, as it was that he had truly wanted&lt;br /&gt;to see the look on the mayor's face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2565067142762012975?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2565067142762012975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2565067142762012975' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2565067142762012975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2565067142762012975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2010/04/laszlo.html' title='Laszlo'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2755827034086762869</id><published>2009-11-29T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T21:35:44.785-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Father</title><content type='html'>John Parker was a wealthy architect from Alabama. He was also on a raft and on fire and on a rug. The clouds were too circular. They looked like somebody was going to replace them, later, but forgot and then said, "screw it". The water was hot and reddish green like chemicals, and it stunk like old flowers and tar and plastic. The map wasn’t in the raft anymore. It was gone. There was no current in the water. There was no moon. It hadn’t come up today because of the celestial body show in Pittsburgh. Now, “Alan” was the architect’s name and he was a little smaller and not so impressive. Black oil from the garbage barges was welling up in various places, which magnified the toxic smell in the air. Alan laughed, because he had forgotten, or maybe never knew, that the minister was on board. “Hi father!”&lt;br /&gt; They came to a place in the river that had really thick weeds in the water. The weeds were 4, 5.5 and 7.0189 inches in diameter, and that was just the first few. There were thousands of weeds and I don’t have time, or time might not have been allotted, to measure them all for this story. The weeds part is over, now. It was going to be a bigger part with more characters, but I lost interest shortly after typing the word “They” and just before the word, “came”.&lt;br /&gt; Now, it’s paused. Look at the raft; it doesn’t look real. The men look real, but they are too big, and the edges are messed up. Now I’m putting quarters in the machine, and voila, the raft is moving, again.&lt;br /&gt;Look out for fire breathing spiders and lazy apes and a man with tire irons for arms. He is Timothy Kitchner. He is also, “Dan Beard” and “Ross Manwich”. He’s most likely gonna be in the bushes posing as a character from when I was a kid, called, “Tommy”, who had a clown wig. He changed his base from water to oil, so now he is oil based, and now he is boil faced, and he has a blue wind-breaker and a bike helmet named, “Lest we forget”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2755827034086762869?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2755827034086762869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2755827034086762869' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2755827034086762869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2755827034086762869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2009/11/hi-father.html' title='Hi Father'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-8068001606335418445</id><published>2009-07-07T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T21:29:06.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Invisible Map of fo paM elbisivnI</title><content type='html'>Heady was walking along road 727, a few days after the disco reopened. The only thing left to do was get these whiskey tickets to the judge before 4PM. I'm going to wear a hockey mask this year at the dance contest, because I know 3 of the judges are hockey players from Germany, Greece and Italy, named, Pal, Janice and Grover, weighing 175, 185 and 215 LBS, respectively. One of them was nice and the other 2 were nice but not anymore, so I'm also carrying pepper spray and something I call a clover kit. The clover kit and clover kit number 2 have 3 items in them: a mouse trap, a game and a sillier game that is just for show, called billy goat's dilemma. I've never played the silly one, but I've played the real one a lot.&lt;br /&gt;  Leather Pouch said he was coming over to get the kits ready, but he slipped on the ice and broke his skate, so he sent his younger brother, Leather's Prouch. Leather's Prounch is sometimes referred to as 'Mandrelle' or 'Mandrielle'. He has also been called, 'Man' or 'man' as a short form. I didn't really care that it was Leather Pouch's brother coming over, because I had already completed the kits and was intending on telling him that my shoestring and butter collection was the kit stuff. Today is cigar day. I've had 4 already and it's only 5AM. My suit is getting itchy so, I put it down a lot. The cigar, that is, haha, not the suit. Ape's are here. The leader is called, 'ApeApeApe' and wants to be in charge of getting smokes, so I said, OK. We should divide up the duties for efficiency's sake. ApeApeApe and I will be in charge of getting smokes, and the rest of you apes will walk around and act busy, so the visitors will say what a nice ape collection we are, but I'm not an ape. I'm a human that goes by the name, 'Nape' or 'Soft Serve' when I'm traveling. ApeApeApe brings in a box with international symbols all over it and explains that this is the kit that explains what it means to be lucky. He brakes it open with his powerful tusks and slings the contents out over the shining marble and ivory floor.&lt;br /&gt;'Look', says Mandantisia. And everyone looked. It had some papers about when you get a golf score or something and some dirty pictures and a diploma from Columbia University written in ox blood and stamped with the Disney on Ice insignia. 'Oh, I get it!', explained Rice Chimp Anipazzia. It turns inside out to become an invisible map of Honolulu and a dagger for protection and a rice cooker and a third place racing go-cart that says, 'Christ has Risen!' on one side and, 'Dough has Risen' on the other. Playing a simple and beautiful song from the Arctic circle, Wilshire Medium Ape floats above the crowd, floats around the room, floats about the villa, landing on occasion to spring up, again, into the moist air, into the wind tunnel, blathering about baseball and cock fighting, thinking about battery technology from the nineteenth century and drawing complicated laser shows with his ass and his eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-8068001606335418445?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/8068001606335418445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=8068001606335418445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/8068001606335418445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/8068001606335418445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2009/07/invisible-map-of-fo-pam-elbisivni.html' title='Invisible Map of fo paM elbisivnI'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-718624179502085422</id><published>2009-01-19T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T14:10:42.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gorilla Pup forgot about the elevator</title><content type='html'>Hut Hut couldn't get his keys out of his pocket in time, so by the time they got to the kitchen, the flower bomb had already gone off. There were rose petals all over the snake shrine and in the garbage disposal and stuck to the windows. "You go on to the party. I'll stay here and clean up.", said Klem. "No...I'll stay and help", replied Hut Hut. Right then, a big light named, "Snowregard" entered the kitchen and swallowed up Klem and Hut Hut. Before they could react, they were on the way to saving big $$$ at a nearby hotel gift shop called, "Wish you were here!". Hut Hut was a fairly large gorilla pup. He had always been big, even when he was a pup pup and a wee wee. Now he was carrying Klem, who had fallen asleep because of all the excitement. Inside the WYWH gift shop, there were 7 rows and 7 rows running perpendicular to those rows in a type of woven pattern. Each row had an aisle and 2 sub-rows for holding instruction booklets and secret keys. The loomanik woman at the counter was really a 1200 year old witch replica called, "Boozer gets a clue". She was pretty nice, and she was also pretty nice. Hut Hut walked up and inquired about a job. She was more than happy to hand him some broken candy pieces from her fireplace. She also told him to stop standing right in front of her, because she suffered from a rare, yet curable, condition known as, "St Peter's Glove", which would cause her to strike out at anything standing right in front of her, without warning. Hut Hut took his change and changed it into a sack to hold Klem, because his arms were getting tired. Right then, a ghost came in named, "ghost comer-inner #11". He was made to feel right at home by everyone. They even made him a shitty hammock out of newspapers and twine and newspapers and guitar strings and some twine for extra-stength and some pictures of horrible railroad accidents for entertainment. This was such a great shoppe now that even the undertaker that lived in its belly was laughing his ass off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-718624179502085422?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/718624179502085422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=718624179502085422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/718624179502085422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/718624179502085422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2009/01/gorilla-pup-forgot-about-elevator.html' title='Gorilla Pup forgot about the elevator'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2856172154554701651</id><published>2008-11-16T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T20:53:27.297-08:00</updated><title type='text'>galbo</title><content type='html'>The radar station was 5 miles west of town, and Jim was already getting dark. The space cats were beginning to gather around the portable sun for heat and story telling. I remember he was thinking about the gin and tonics in his canteen and wondering if anyone would actually be at the extraction zone. No one was, so Jim went to Auto Zone. inside , hefoundapinballmachineandsomesungalsses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2856172154554701651?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2856172154554701651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2856172154554701651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2856172154554701651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2856172154554701651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/11/galbo.html' title='galbo'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-5755118297158275867</id><published>2008-08-11T22:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T22:51:52.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>galalalagoo goo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/SKEk8q8OlsI/AAAAAAAAABM/4N3Irv6oqmk/s1600-h/teil001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/SKEk8q8OlsI/AAAAAAAAABM/4N3Irv6oqmk/s320/teil001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233504866718881474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-5755118297158275867?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/5755118297158275867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=5755118297158275867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/5755118297158275867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/5755118297158275867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/08/galalalagoo-goo.html' title='galalalagoo goo'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/SKEk8q8OlsI/AAAAAAAAABM/4N3Irv6oqmk/s72-c/teil001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-6347351869677911983</id><published>2008-04-06T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T21:09:11.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking News</title><content type='html'>Ormanda: Oh! Wow! That's the dracula balloon behind me now. Steve, you can see the people trapped inside, looking pleasantly surprised to be floating above downtown tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve: Ormanda, is there any word on the cause of the accident?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ormanda: Steve, there is very little word on that, right now, but we are being told by authorities that around 8:14 PM this evening the balloon began to fill up under its own power and shortly after 8:32 PM, the large vampire shaped dirigible started its lumbering stroll down 4th street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve: Is there an official number on the people trapped inside?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ormanda: Yes, Steve. The official count, right now, is 1 people. Those people are thought, at this time at least, to be all the same person, and that person is thought to be Miles Crabyard of Georgetown, Ky.  He is well known for looking very similar to the grandfather in Willy Wonka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve: I see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ormanda: Wait...Steve...I'm getting confirmation that this is not actually real. I think what is happening here is...wait...ok...thank you...Yes. Steve, I have confirmation that I am not really here. I've actually fallen asleep in a bathroom stall of a Flying J truckstop, somewhere near Denver. You are probably in real danger of being a dream, as well. Back to you, Steve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve: Thank you Ormanda. Big news in the Little League this week....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-6347351869677911983?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/6347351869677911983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=6347351869677911983' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/6347351869677911983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/6347351869677911983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/04/breaking-news.html' title='Breaking News'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-6689503604020989778</id><published>2008-03-26T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T21:32:51.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>gre gaboose</title><content type='html'>the ape was waiting in the car, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chrissy&lt;/span&gt; wanted to get some beef jerky out of the machine.&lt;br /&gt;She got a twenty out of her purse and fed it into the slot. It dispensed 2 pieces of beef jerky and a piece of beef jerky supreme. the ape got out of the car and walk off into the darkness of the parking lot, called "the larking pot". his fur was black and the ground's fur was white, and the road was red. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chrissy&lt;/span&gt; wanted to get back to the houseboat before everybody ate all the fudge she had made in her toy oven. there was only one guy there that looked like Kenny Rogers and another guy that looked like the guy that looked like Kenny Rogers. His name was Benny Dodger, and he was also an old, rich wizard name "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Blaylock&lt;/span&gt; the magnificent". Back at the house boat, the garage door opened and the prettiest little boat idled in. The boat was about 12" long and constructed of antique hardwoods salvaged from a recently condemned lantern factory in Troy Ohio. The boat's driver weighed around 350 lbs. and his love handles dipped lightly in the water on either side of the boat. Inside the garage, he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;maneuvered&lt;/span&gt; the tiny boat through a series of spins and  slides, while a polite crowd clapped politely. &lt;br /&gt;    "I know that boatman!", said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;chrissy&lt;/span&gt;, "That's Night Hawk from Spanish Spain! He's so happy when he's in his boat. God bless him. Look at his smile and the way he is really precise with the controls. I am him."&lt;br /&gt;"Are you Night Hawk?", &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;chrissy&lt;/span&gt; said to herself.&lt;br /&gt;Once all the guest had arrived, they were sent to different rooms and prohibited from speaking to each other. After they arrived, they were  in different rooms and called, "the guests".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;chrissy&lt;/span&gt; needed to go smoke a cigarette on the back porch with one of the water dogs. He smoked a cigarette, too. This water dog was different than the rest, a little smaller, and he had look in his eye that meant:  "look at this eye. look at this eye and this i and this 1".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-6689503604020989778?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/6689503604020989778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=6689503604020989778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/6689503604020989778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/6689503604020989778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/03/gre-gaboose.html' title='gre gaboose'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-8983394240640537316</id><published>2008-01-21T19:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T19:37:24.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blip Blop</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/R5Vk53XG4oI/AAAAAAAAABE/pqcnZJuVFRs/s1600-h/blipblop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/R5Vk53XG4oI/AAAAAAAAABE/pqcnZJuVFRs/s320/blipblop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158139893498962562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-8983394240640537316?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/8983394240640537316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=8983394240640537316' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/8983394240640537316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/8983394240640537316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/01/blip-blop.html' title='Blip Blop'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/R5Vk53XG4oI/AAAAAAAAABE/pqcnZJuVFRs/s72-c/blipblop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-6892191509103063385</id><published>2008-01-13T20:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T20:58:01.884-08:00</updated><title type='text'>1101001010101010101</title><content type='html'>ALAN: Oh look everyone! It's the King of La La Land! Eating his warmed goat meat and drinking his expensive wine! Look at you! Wearing that blue velvet robe and those silly shoes! Who the hell do you think you are? Your lips greasy with goat fat, counting your money and watching Three's Company - on the television you stole from MY APARTMENT!! Is that my turtleneck?! You've got to get a grip man! Those rebels are real! And their about two miles from here, waiting for it to get dark, and then...and then...you're going to be in a world of shit! You think they give a crap if you're wearing those silver shoes? I'll answer that for you, Frank. THEY DON'T!!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;FRANK: Will you fucking relax?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALAN: ......I'm sorry, Frank. I guess I'm just starting to get a little paranoid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank: It's alright, man. Everything will be fine. Trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALAN: NO IT WON'T FUCKING "BE ALRIGHT"!!!!! THAT WAS SARCASM, FRANK!!!! I'M NOT BEING PARANOID. I'M JUST NOT TOTALLY FREAKING INSANE LIKE YOU!!!!! I'm getting my shit and getting the hell out of here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank: Where you gonna go? To the zoo? To the bus station? All that shit is full of spies, man. And Bugs. The safest place is right here with me. I have some disguises we can wear in the closet, but I want to be the clown. You can be the Luchador.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALAN: In case your sugar coated brain has completely left this planet, I would like to remind you that cream puffs are fucking illegal according to the new laws, and possessing just one, just one cream puff, is a capital offense! I would also like to remind you that we are currently in possession of, oh...I don't know, 3 FUCKING MILLION CREAM PUFFS!!!!!! This is the last city not under their control, and as soon as it is, you are going to be the new poster child for shit you ain’t supposed to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Frank looks down at the ground and appears to be deep in thought, swirling his glass of milk]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALAN: I guess you have nothing to say. Which bike has gas in it? I'm leaving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FRANK: The pink one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALAN: I'll see you...somewhere...or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Frank changes the channel to an episode of Dragon Tales and begins to laugh.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-6892191509103063385?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/6892191509103063385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=6892191509103063385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/6892191509103063385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/6892191509103063385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/01/1101001010101010101.html' title='1101001010101010101'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-4931476555303729289</id><published>2008-01-06T21:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T21:42:27.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thelonious Monk Drawing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/R4G7UnXG4mI/AAAAAAAAAA0/x3QE6IWqDvc/s1600-h/thelonious.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/R4G7UnXG4mI/AAAAAAAAAA0/x3QE6IWqDvc/s320/thelonious.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152605411526238818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Finally got a Wacom tablet and kicked things off with a portrait of my favorite Jazz man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-4931476555303729289?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/4931476555303729289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=4931476555303729289' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/4931476555303729289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/4931476555303729289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2008/01/thelonious-monk-drawing.html' title='Thelonious Monk Drawing'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/R4G7UnXG4mI/AAAAAAAAAA0/x3QE6IWqDvc/s72-c/thelonious.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-8647098559643919395</id><published>2007-03-31T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T20:19:58.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Again Vampire Leg IV - The Alien Scourge</title><content type='html'>The Ape was tired,and he didn't have any cigarettes left, so he pulled into a Shell station called "she'll stackin'" and turned off the car.  Krissy was sleeping soundly under the blanket she had made out of left over Wendys napkins. The Ape went on in. The clerk's name was Goutchin Ratefarmer. He had a yellow shirt with a yellow pin on it. He was so in love that he had a hard time listening to people, especially the Ape. They wanted to be partners so the Ape and Goutchin bought a balloon from the Army/Navy store and headed out on a rock'n tour of France with two elderly lesbian twins named, "downy soft". They got so sick of each other during the vacation that the Ape built a ply-wood shack inside the balloon basket and wouldn't come out. Goutchin climbed up on top of the balloon and pitched a family sized tent. It was an Outback Extreme by Coleman. He wouldn't come out either. The twins drank the boxes of wine and jumped to their deaths while smiling and braiding their hair. After a couple of months of drifting around the world and not coming out, the Ape and Goutchin made up and popped the balloon somewhere over the Atlantic. The Ape was not eaten by sharks, but Goutchin was not either, but he drowned, but the Ape did not drown. He swam to England where he bought an exact replica of the car that he left Krissy sleeping in and parked it next to "Sleeping Krissy". Then, he popped a party sized balloon by Ballon Worx and Krissy woke up. The Ape said, "Hey! Krissy! What are you doing in that other car. You must have gone in for some chips, payed for them, left the shell station and jumped into the wrong car when you came out, because it looks exactly like this one!". Krissy laughed and turned red with embarrassment. "Come on Krissy", said the Ape. "We need to get on the road". Krissy got in the back of Repi the replica and the Ape pulled out of the station and headed for Omaha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-8647098559643919395?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/8647098559643919395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=8647098559643919395' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/8647098559643919395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/8647098559643919395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/03/hi-again-vampire-leg-iv-alien-scourge.html' title='Hi Again Vampire Leg IV - The Alien Scourge'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2214451806848503238</id><published>2007-03-29T21:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T21:53:31.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HAVLM scene III</title><content type='html'>Krissy woke up in a strange room with millions of light bulbs lining the walls and ceilings. She had a blue gown on. On the front of the gown it said, "Follow me to great savings!". It had a kitten on the back that was messed up and a picture of Brett Favre on the front, and on the back was a picture of Don Henley, but the front had a picture of the back on it, but the printing was messed up. She got up and walked over to the observation deck, but she never got there, so she just went over and plopped down on a bean bag chair and started to do some sewing, but she didn't have any thread, so she just went to sleep. She was woken up by an ape that had busted into her room. The ape was wearing a shirt with a picture of her on the front, but there was nothing on the back. Right when she thought the ape was going to kill her, it took it's head off and sat down next to her. it's head was laughing. Krissy smiled and said, "you asshole! You scared me." Krissy and the ape did some uppers and headed out to rent a car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2214451806848503238?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2214451806848503238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2214451806848503238' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2214451806848503238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2214451806848503238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/03/havlm-scene-iii.html' title='HAVLM scene III'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-7587439611197389357</id><published>2007-03-26T16:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T16:51:55.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>riddle me this</title><content type='html'>what should be the next line in this sequence of numbers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1&lt;br /&gt;11&lt;br /&gt;21&lt;br /&gt;1211&lt;br /&gt;111221&lt;br /&gt;312211&lt;br /&gt;13112221&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-7587439611197389357?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/7587439611197389357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=7587439611197389357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/7587439611197389357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/7587439611197389357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/03/what-should-be-next-line-in-this.html' title='riddle me this'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-4878484812527184160</id><published>2007-03-21T18:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T20:52:44.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An old cake recipe i found in the shed</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Ingredients&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 tsp  of  Hawk&lt;br /&gt;2 cups of Uninterrupted sleep&lt;br /&gt;4 Tbs of Cloaked figures with emerald eyes&lt;br /&gt;1 pound of slippery when wet T-shirts&lt;br /&gt;7 grams of Lithium&lt;br /&gt;6 grams of something called, "blue Tug Boat Lithium"&lt;br /&gt;5 grams of spa treatment in a box&lt;br /&gt;8 oz.  of  the creeping fear of death&lt;br /&gt;1 finger of Mescal&lt;br /&gt;10 jiggers of orange flavored steak&lt;br /&gt;9 canteens of mouse heart&lt;br /&gt;10 lids of Jasmine corn&lt;br /&gt;11 yards of regret&lt;br /&gt;100 drops of Grizzly bear tears&lt;br /&gt;8 gallons of lost enthusiasm&lt;br /&gt;17 grains of trickery&lt;br /&gt;50 ml of phantom power&lt;br /&gt;100 balloons of prune happiness cakes&lt;br /&gt;17 packets of lime flavored lemon juice&lt;br /&gt;39 cupfuls of angel adrenaline&lt;br /&gt;69 scoops of raw ghost intellect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Directions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mix all ingredients in a large mixing bowl.&lt;br /&gt;Add ice and whiskey, or if you prefer, you may substitute 1,000 gallons of Boone's farm apple wine.&lt;br /&gt;Stir and let stand for many eons.&lt;br /&gt;Serve chilled in the skull of an aged gypsum miner or a black leather boot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-4878484812527184160?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/4878484812527184160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=4878484812527184160' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/4878484812527184160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/4878484812527184160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/03/old-cake-recipe-i-found-in-shed.html' title='An old cake recipe i found in the shed'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-2605073825022331330</id><published>2007-03-16T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-16T22:03:56.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie Review -- Every Which Way But Loose</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/Rft1a_JW_hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-4TBPYPUDRw/s1600-h/displaymedia.php.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/Rft1a_JW_hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-4TBPYPUDRw/s320/displaymedia.php.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042753314259140114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Penguins are big of late, especially Emperor Penguins, some of which can be upwards of four, four-and-a-half feet tall. But, of course, they are also big in the media, what with 2005's "Every Which Way But Loose" winning an Oscar for Best Documentary Film and 2006's "Every Which Way But Loose" winning an Oscar for Best Animated Feature Film of the Year. What's more, penguins have always been big. Think back on all those penguins you've seen in television commercials; or Walter Lantz's Chilly Willy of the 1950s and 60s; or the penguins in Disney's "Silly Symphonies" of the 1930s. Seems like our love affair with these courtly, cuddly, communal creatures will never end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every Which Way But Loose" is the brainchild of George Miller, the movie's co-writer and director, who previously brought us "Babe," "Babe: Pig in the City," "The Witches of Eastwick," and all of the "Mad Max" movies. So you know going in the guy's got talent, and "Every Which Way But Loose" is going to show a good deal of creativity. It does; just not quite enough to keep this grown-up from yawning a few times in the process.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-2605073825022331330?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/2605073825022331330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=2605073825022331330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2605073825022331330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/2605073825022331330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/03/movie-review-every-which-way-but-loose.html' title='Movie Review -- Every Which Way But Loose'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2xoVuHYFxR8/Rft1a_JW_hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-4TBPYPUDRw/s72-c/displaymedia.php.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-1409507802462410994</id><published>2007-03-16T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-16T21:49:03.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Again Vampire Leg Membrane Revisited</title><content type='html'>Krissy's plan didn't work so she decided to go to Las Vegas just to cool down for a while. She went to the local airport and sat in the floor of a T.G.I Fridays and waited for her flight. At five O'clock, on the dot, her plane arrived. It was a small purple plane with pink polka dots. She called it "O'Baby the plane". Inside, there were plenty of seats and free pumpkin pie. The flight attendants were wearing Hitler masks and togas. She put her sleeping mask on and settled in for the short flight. She quickly fell asleep. She quickly woke up. She was in the Orient. The sweet smell of little Caesar's pizza and opium was in the air. She thought that Oscar might be worried about her, so she dropped him a postcard in the mail. It was beautiful. It had three sides. A picture of a dog, A picture of a dog, and a picture of a smaller dog. She also mailed Oscar a preying mantis that spoke Chinese, as well as, a preying mantis that spoke a far more ancient form of Chinese. She flew home to make sure he got them and then flew back to the Orient. Pretty soon, Krissy had to get a job cleaning fish tanks for some of the locals, and she like it pretty well. She called her job, "The job with the fish". Pretty soon, Krissy had to go home, and when she got there, the Love Boat crowd was still hanging around, and they were pissed that Krissy had forgotten their margarita mix. Oscar called and said that the second Preying Mantis, the one that spoke the ancient form of Chinese, was sick and the vet bills were piling up. She felt bad and mailed Oscar a $10 Kentucky Fried Chicken gift certificate and 50 lbs. bag of ox blood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-1409507802462410994?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/1409507802462410994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=1409507802462410994' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/1409507802462410994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/1409507802462410994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/03/hi-again-vampire-leg-membrane-revisited.html' title='Hi Again Vampire Leg Membrane Revisited'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-7973934005932326443</id><published>2007-02-07T20:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T20:13:10.011-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Again Vampire Leg Membrane</title><content type='html'>Once there was a vampire named Krissy that lived in an abandoned casino. She was so shy that she wore a clown mask everywhere she went. One day, she met a real clown and fell in love. The clown's name was Oscar. They got married and moved into 2 separate but identical nuclear missile silos. His and hers. They got a gold fish named "Hannibal" and a pack of wolves named "gorfian empire" for pets. When the Super Bowl rolled around, they invested in the world's smallest television and sold tickets to bacteria to watch the game. Krissy had a sparkling green dune buggy named "dune buggie". She loved it sooooo much that she had it bronzed and buried it in the desert next to a cartoon cactus and a cartoon vulture. Lately, some of the writers from the show "Love Boat" had been hanging around Krissy's silo doing blow and playing records. They had kind of worn out their welcome, so she acted like she had to go to Vegas for a vampire convention, but they didn't leave. They just lazily waved goodbye and asked if she could bring back some margarita mix.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-7973934005932326443?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/7973934005932326443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=7973934005932326443' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/7973934005932326443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/7973934005932326443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2007/02/hi-again-vampire-leg-membrane.html' title='Hi Again Vampire Leg Membrane'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-115837398050596629</id><published>2006-09-15T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T19:33:00.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>two new words I invented</title><content type='html'>feel free to use these two new words that I invented:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cafesphere  --  The general quality of coffee in a given area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halfice -- When you share an office with someone else, you  have an "halfice".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-115837398050596629?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/115837398050596629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=115837398050596629' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/115837398050596629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/115837398050596629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/09/two-new-words-i-invented.html' title='two new words I invented'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-115475172825722668</id><published>2006-08-04T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T21:23:48.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Relaxation Technique #24</title><content type='html'>Relax the muscles in your face, until your eyes begin to shake, while remembering that you are  but a single character in a long, long, long story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-115475172825722668?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/115475172825722668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=115475172825722668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/115475172825722668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/115475172825722668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/08/relaxation-technique-24.html' title='Relaxation Technique #24'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-115102985795764344</id><published>2006-06-22T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T19:30:58.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>recent sand scultpure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chadhurley/160976665/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/56/160976665_d8f5ce9772_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chadhurley/160976665/"&gt;100_0491&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/chadhurley/"&gt;glassneck&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;well...also the only sand sculpture ive ever done. David Burt and I did this. his name is 8-cent. (Chloe named him)&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-115102985795764344?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/115102985795764344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=115102985795764344' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/115102985795764344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/115102985795764344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/06/recent-sand-scultpure.html' title='recent sand scultpure'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114853203484926002</id><published>2006-05-24T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T21:40:34.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Motel</title><content type='html'>john still had a few items in his pocket in his pocket, a paper clip, a few losing tickets from the track and winning pepsi cap for some contest. He couldnt remember how long he had been wearing his white dress shirt. It had some red dots of liquor on it, but it didnt look that bad. The lights werent on and the room was pretty cool. he rolled up off the bed and walked down the hall to find the ice machine. He found it in a dark alcove right in front of the executive gym. He could see a woman in turquoise shorts pulling herself up and dropping down on a weird looking machine. She was making an "O" shape with her mouth and her eyes were closed. Bright fluorescents poured out of the gym and illuminated the humming ice machine. He looked at it. He opened the flap on the front and put both hands inside. He felt the ice. It felt good. He got down on his knees and put his head in a little. the vibrations felt good on his head, resting on the metal sill. A family from Kansas got off the elevator and dragged their luggage down the hall. It was pretty late to be getting off the road, about 1 AM. The must have gotten stuck in traffic. There was a bad wreck on I-64, just outside of town. John walked back to his room and put the chain on the door. he took his shirt off and sat on the floor in front of the bed and turned on the TV. There was a story on the local news about a boy who was missing for 2 days. They found him in a forrest near his house, and except for some minor scrapes and bruises, he was fine. The reporters fained jubilation. The Rams beat the Jets 21-11 (Final). Animals mate. Cartoons. Elimidate had rednecks on it. John put his shirt back on and turned the AC down. He got in bed, but the blankets were scratchy, so threw off the top cover and rolled over. He wasn't really sleepy. He thought about getting a cab downtown and finding a music club. He probably wouldnt know anyone there. It might be a little awkward. It shouldnt, but it would be. he thought how it would be a waste of money and how he would be sleepy the next day. He decided to just go to sleep. He dreamt of World War I and the care bears. He woke up at 6:15 AM and went down to the lobby. There was an elderly man at the front desk and two Japanese guys eating their free continental breakfast. John starred out the front door and then began to leaf through the rack a brochures near the pay phones. He grabbed a couple and sat on the couch. The first one sucked. It was a black and white card with driving direction to the tourism center. The second one was for place that let you pan for gold in a man-made stream. He folded that one up and put it in his pocket. John grabbed a cheese danish and went back to his room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114853203484926002?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114853203484926002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114853203484926002' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114853203484926002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114853203484926002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/05/motel.html' title='Motel'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114541876637306165</id><published>2006-04-18T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T20:52:46.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>im gonna look out the hole again</title><content type='html'>I don't have anymore of that good firewood. just got these pieces with bark like strings on it. and this dust burns too quick. i like this little steel door. smells good outside. i like that fox right there. that snow is pretty. i want to go out of here, but i like it in here. i can see the whole mountain side below me and no body can get in from above me. i feel safe. i have 3 cans of fish left. then ill go out and get some food at the store. im eating one can of fish a day. that's three days of fish left. im glad ive got three days left. i just need to sleep. then ill feel better. i dont think anybody even knows this place exists. they would never find the door, anyway. ill sleep and get my strength up and then ill go to the store and hurry back. im gonna go to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114541876637306165?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114541876637306165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114541876637306165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114541876637306165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114541876637306165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/im-gonna-look-out-hole-again.html' title='im gonna look out the hole again'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114524109126423670</id><published>2006-04-16T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T19:31:31.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ship got hit!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=""&gt;At 5:17 AM, our ship&lt;br /&gt;took minor damage from what appeared to be make-shift photon torpedoes. This occurred&lt;br /&gt;5 minutes after passing through the disputed territories of Gildhercomb.&lt;o:P&gt;&lt;/o:P&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;There were no casualties.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the damage was to an unused section of the cargo hold. Normal&lt;br /&gt;atmosphere has not yet been restored to this area, and safety officials have&lt;br /&gt;issued a warning to avoid section E and F of the cargo area, until repairs can&lt;br /&gt;be made. Updates will follow.&lt;o:P&gt;&lt;/o:P&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114524109126423670?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114524109126423670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114524109126423670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114524109126423670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114524109126423670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/ship-got-hit.html' title='Ship got hit!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114498326012816864</id><published>2006-04-13T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T19:54:20.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 things to improve your life</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you lay down to go to sleep at night, tense up your muscles starting with your toes and work your way up to your head. Keep each body part tensed for about 2 seconds and then release. You will find that you are really relaxed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Decide that you are an inefficient, disorganized person, and remember that you make up for that 10 times over with character and love.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;take one thing out of your wallet each day and throw it away.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;talk to animals in a normal voice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;look forward to winter, because it is beautiful and cleansing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;think of yourself as an eccentric that has secret knowledge about the world and laugh to yourself.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;be a bit of an asshole every once in a while. Then, you can't really be a full time victim.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Once a month, eat pepperoni pizza or cherry pie for breakfast and then go back to sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;jog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When passing complete strangers on the street, say, "God bless you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114498326012816864?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114498326012816864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114498326012816864' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114498326012816864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114498326012816864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/10-things-to-improve-your-life.html' title='10 things to improve your life'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114489544521089841</id><published>2006-04-12T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T19:30:45.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The History of America, Installment One</title><content type='html'>In 1492 Christopher Columbus was assigned,  by the Queen of Spain, the task of finding new lands to add on to Spain, to make Spain bigger and more spread out. Being a peasant and having no formal training in ship building, Columbus quickly enlisted the help of long time friend, and wizard, Merlin. At the end of two short weeks, Merlin had constructed a fleet of 20 ships that Columbus would pilot westward on his voyage.  The biggest of these vessels was the "Santa Ananana".  Bolted to her mast was a 40 foot, golden cross with the wings of an eagle and the head of a serpent. across this assemblage was written, "vilci wilosca Hombre!", or "white falcon". When Columbus got to America, he attempted to land at Kitty Hawk, but the fog was too thick, so he turned left and then right again, to land at Mer Tyle Beach. The exact spot of his landing is now property of the popular Best Western hotel chain. After unpacking everything, Columbus sent out small scouting parties to collect firewood and spices for the new lodge he was planning to build. About that time, some of the indigenous people of the area showed up to offer food, fresh water and helpful advice on planting crops. Columbus had them killed and immediately began construction on a new performing arts complex that shared his name. This most ambitious engineering project would take 6 years and the equivalent of 9 billion of today's dollars to complete. Despite his efforts, the project was doomed to failure. The up and coming architect Columbus had assigned to this project, Gerhardt Wiley, had little experience building large structures close to the ocean and actually built the NW corner of the structure below the high tide mark. While his marketing department worked to spin this disaster with slogans such as, "the theatre in the sea!", Columbus knew his dream was crumbling around him. The poor structural integrity of the theatre led to many canceled performances. Cracked plaster walls, mysterious mold and the stench of rotting kelp slowly chipped away at the theater's, already small, clientele. In 1497, it closed its curtains for the last time. Two months later, in a fierce storm, it sank into the Atlantic Ocean.  Depressed and in poor health, Columbus travelled to Toronto in search of muskrat oil. This was a highly sought after tonic in the 1400's. It was believed that muskrat oil could "Lift the spirits and luck" of those brave enough to drink it. If blessed by a Dominican Priest, it was thought to cure blindness and act as a mild aphrodisiac. Columbus never made it to Toronto. His party was attacked just south of Toledo by Tunisian raiders and forced to retreat to the Highlands of Wisconsin and wait out the long winter. His troop strength reduced to only 87 men and personally suffering from disfiguring frost bite, he reluctantly surrendered to the Tunisian forces on January 12, 1498. His 87 men were enslaved and shipped to Tunisia. Columbus was imprisoned, in isolation, on Loon Island, deep in the Canadian boundary waters. After two years of slowly befriending the guard assigned to him, Columbus was able to negotiate his own release and kill his captor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114489544521089841?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114489544521089841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114489544521089841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114489544521089841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114489544521089841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/history-of-america-installment-one.html' title='The History of America, Installment One'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114481743919143152</id><published>2006-04-11T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T21:50:39.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My new pony</title><content type='html'>Hey...I just bought my first pony. It is so cute! It sleeps with me and already knows its name. I got the leg extensions so it could work on my gutters this spring. I take it jogging with me. It doesnt like its crate, but the man said it would get used to it. My cats dont get along with it so well, but Dukie tries to be there friend. They are like, "talk to the paw". I'm teaching him to sit and fetch, but it's going s-l-o-o-o-o-w-l-y. That's ok. I love my pony!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114481743919143152?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114481743919143152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114481743919143152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114481743919143152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114481743919143152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-new-pony.html' title='My new pony'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114481685959770624</id><published>2006-04-11T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T21:40:59.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cool new video game</title><content type='html'>Hey...here's an idea for a cool video game. Tiger Woods and Drew Berrymore race around a haunted castle collecting antiques and drinking booze. you score points by taking a crap in the basement without being spotted by the ghost of Benny Hill. Need extra points? Simply find the hidden Jimmy Buffet tape or piss in the fireplace. ...... ...I will pay $75 dollars bounty to anyone who makes this game for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114481685959770624?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114481685959770624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114481685959770624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114481685959770624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114481685959770624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/cool-new-video-game.html' title='Cool new video game'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-114429783288014807</id><published>2006-04-05T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T21:42:17.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>See! This is what I was talking about!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chadhurley/124059667/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/49/124059667_abd637c3d8_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: 0px solid rgb(0, 0, 0);" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chadhurley/124059667/"&gt;robot1&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/chadhurley/"&gt;glassneck&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;you must be very careful when it comes to robots.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-114429783288014807?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/114429783288014807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=114429783288014807' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114429783288014807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/114429783288014807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/04/see-this-is-what-i-was-talking-about.html' title='See! This is what I was talking about!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-113756491552846473</id><published>2006-01-17T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T22:15:15.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>question #57</title><content type='html'>Would it be possible for there to exist a puppy large enough to stick it's  head into outer space? It's proportions would be the same as a regular puppy, so it will be quite large. Could the earth sustain its enormous appetite? Would it collapse under its own weight, etc?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-113756491552846473?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/113756491552846473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=113756491552846473' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/113756491552846473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/113756491552846473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/01/question-57.html' title='question #57'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-113756451989232481</id><published>2006-01-17T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T22:08:39.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spider Lady</title><content type='html'>Hey there,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    welcome to my spider room! It's crystal and velvet so that it look nice to you. I'm just hangin out. come on in and take your coat off while i smoke some cigarette. wanna drank? i have  some red juice and  probably some gingerale. What's been going? i've  been  spinning  all week and my ass is killing me. want me to do psychic eyeball trick? I can walk on the ceiling,  so no escape attempting. have a cookie. So i've been looking through your file and i see that you have been ben make steady improvement since you arrived here.  Let me  talk at the point. We want  to start the  work release try.  you  can  be allowed outside the web for 2 hours on each day. gathering supplies and returning home on time. You're game? complete forms in office hallway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-113756451989232481?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/113756451989232481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=113756451989232481' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/113756451989232481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/113756451989232481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2006/01/spider-lady.html' title='Spider Lady'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-112909865513047575</id><published>2005-10-11T23:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T23:30:55.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>powder cake and birdie</title><content type='html'>here,...get down in the bushes...now just wait...wait.....wait...he's gonna turn the knives on and geet geet geet, boy wait till he turns the blades on! It'll all be whirlin' and spinnen. here goes!! geet geet geet...look look! he's got the knives goin! yee doggy! look ...look a that. he coming around....he's commin...er..turning it around! he's comming this way, aaww hell...geet geet geet! look out! let's git for he comes up on this here bush...ahh hell ,he's got the blades awn. geet geet geet! run birdie! run! come awn! let's git!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-112909865513047575?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/112909865513047575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=112909865513047575' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112909865513047575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112909865513047575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/10/powder-cake-and-birdie.html' title='powder cake and birdie'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-112909747828022707</id><published>2005-10-11T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-11T23:11:18.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's that place up there?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No one ever goes up to that place anymore. That’s where they used to pull the skins off the whales when they would bring‘em in. I had a fella come in to the shop one day with one of his arms all screwed up. He just wanted to use the bathroom to clean himself up. I asked him about it and he just run off. A few minutes later the sky got real dark with a purple cast over the water. The wind picked up and then it died down and got real calm. We could see some black figures walking around down on the beach, but it was too dark to see what they were. They were pulling some ropes up out of the water, and then they just disappeared. The power went out for a few hours and when we woke up in the morning, the whole town was covered with a sheet of thin ice, except for that place up there. Nobody ever goes up there anymore.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-112909747828022707?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/112909747828022707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=112909747828022707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112909747828022707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112909747828022707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/10/whats-that-place-up-there.html' title='What&apos;s that place up there?'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-112796865804241919</id><published>2005-09-28T21:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T21:37:38.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Talk to it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sir, could I see your license and registration, please?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why? what the fuck did I do? What happened was…&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There was these two robots and they was trapped in a Winn Dixie. One of them was made out of rags and the other one was made out of fire. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;They got hungry and went over and ate some sardines and some cake. They were walkin around in sync with each other, like they could read each other’s thoughts. Well, this pissed one of em off. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. I was hidin over in the corner, but that one with the hat was all pissed off at the other’en. We’ll shit, I had to pick my dog up from work, so I tried to sneak out the back. Right then, or maybe it was after that,..well fuck, I can’t remember, but that one with the sword tried to capture me over there by the cookies isle.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;See my finger. It’s all fucked up. Did you see that? That one just hit that other one. Why am I in trouble? They the ones been fighten. I’m just tryin to go home.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I thought you were going to pick up your dog?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That’s... w h a t ...I... f u c k I n... S a I d…officer.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No. You said you were going home.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Whatever. Talk to the hand. Talk to it. Talk to the futher, err...the fuckrin hand man.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Please step out of the car, sir.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-112796865804241919?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/112796865804241919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=112796865804241919' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112796865804241919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112796865804241919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/09/talk-to-it.html' title='Talk to it.'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-112702518626767305</id><published>2005-09-17T23:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-17T23:33:18.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Favorite part of the Bible</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My favorite part of the bible is when those guys went on a trip to see that guy with the robe, but he was all pissed off, and they couldn't get into the city, so they just camped for a while and had a party and went back their city. They had a snake and they tried to trade it for a truck, but nobody wanted it, so they ate it and danced. I also like that one about the aliens and the secret door. That one is awesome! I made a cardboard replica of the secret door for a project once. I still have it, but it’s kinda screwed up. Did you read that one about the belly dancer that got caught cheating on her husband and he had her killed. I’ve got a comic book of that one. When they have lightening and thunder in the bible, they always make it sounds scary. I bet it was really scary. I like that one about the midget that lives in a cave and can see into the future, but nobody listens to him until the monster comes, and then they start listening to him more. He must have been pretty PO’ed that everybody thought he was crazy until the monster did come. When those birds flew into the castle and it rained for a hundred years was my favorite part. That big guy chased them away with a lantern full of grease. That was really cool. People in those days used to carry hidden sticks to fight with. Everybody had a beard because of the frost. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-112702518626767305?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/112702518626767305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=112702518626767305' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112702518626767305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112702518626767305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/09/my-favorite-part-of-bible.html' title='My Favorite part of the Bible'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-112104649046740458</id><published>2005-07-10T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-10T18:48:10.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The world is a haunted house</title><content type='html'>When I was little, we would go the Virginia Beach for vacation. One of our favorite past times was to hunt for jelly fish. Sometimes we would find them on the beach, drowning in the air. They were almost completely transparent. I would get a hand full of hot sand and clinch it in my fist. Slowly, I would let the sand pour from my hand, powdering the fish with cinnamon and revealing it's micro features, little crevices and hidden patterns. You can't really see those things. You can only see the things they affect. There are a lot of things like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-112104649046740458?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/112104649046740458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=112104649046740458' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112104649046740458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/112104649046740458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/07/world-is-haunted-house.html' title='The world is a haunted house'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-111025908009437889</id><published>2005-03-07T21:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-07T21:20:15.193-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Try el-Invading!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is something I tried the other day with some fellas from the office. I want to get this going on a global scale, because it’s awesome! I promise this is fun. Get a blanket, a deck of cards and 5 of your friends. Go to a reasonably tall building and take the elevator to the top. Once you’re there, stay in the elevator, spread the blanket out on the floor and everybody sits down. Get ready to act like you’re playing cards. Maybe mess up your hair a little. Now ride back down to the lobby. When the door opens, hopefully there are lots of people waiting for the car. That’s when you all kind of get up, slowly, and say, “Thank God! We’ve been on there for like 8 hours!” Don’t make eye contact with anyone; just walk out of the building without laughing. It’s awesome. It’s my new favorite pastime. I call it el-invading. Have fun with it! Do some of your own variations. Maybe bring pillows or everyone dress like priests, anything to make it even more absurd! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-111025908009437889?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/111025908009437889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=111025908009437889' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/111025908009437889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/111025908009437889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/03/try-el-invading.html' title='Try el-Invading!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110929488768762475</id><published>2005-02-24T17:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T17:29:42.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus of Nascareth</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A glowing yellow light outlined the tips of pine trees around a modest little brick house, nestled in a small ravine, out on route 5. It was 5:15 AM when Dave poured some reddish black coffee into a thick ceramic mug. A pajama footed boy of very few years stumbles from a dark hallway and into the kitchen. “Hey there son…”, said Dave. “You ready to get going?”.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“I’m hungry.”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Well, get some cereal, and I might let you have a nip of this coffee to get ya’ movin’. Don’t wake up your mother. We need to be headin’ on down the road long before anybody else wakes up”.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“alright.”, said the sleepy boy.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Hey dad, is Jesus of Nascareth really the fastest man alive?”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Hell yes, son.”, said Dave, as he sipped his extremely hot coffee.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“He can’t be defeated. Well, not in the points standings, that is. He might lose a race here and there, but No man alive can take ‘em on the season. You’ll get to see his stuff, today. They can bang up his car, run ‘em off the road. I remember on time somebody even put ox blood in his gas tank, but no one has ever knocked him out of a race.”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Is that true?”, said the boy with curious disbelief. &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“It’s as true as I’m standin’ here tellin’ it. One time the valvoline car had him pinned up against the wall on the last lap at Darlington, and ole JC started vibratin’ and shakin’ like he was gonna blow up, and right then his whole car started glowing a bright golden metallic color. The light blinded everybody in the grandstands for a few seconds. It was bright as the sun. When we got our sight back, we saw that he had done gone airborn and was passin’ over the top of the number 6 car. His wheels touched down just in time to take the checkered flag. You should have seen the damn victory lap, tires squeelin’ and burnin’ rubber all the way around the track four times. He blew the engine on the last time around,  and the whole car burned up, but he got out ok, threw his helmut off and took a bow. The crowd was goin’ wild and screamin’. Ole JC put his thumbs behind his belt buckle and started buck dancin’ down the track. He did a moon walk up to ole Mark Martin and did the burn sign. It was awesome! I sure hope we see somethin’ like that today. Well…finish up your breakfast and lets get goin’. We’ve got some drivin’ to do.”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Alright, dad. Let’s get goin’! Jesus of Nascareth is the fastest man alive!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110929488768762475?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110929488768762475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110929488768762475' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110929488768762475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110929488768762475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/02/jesus-of-nascareth.html' title='Jesus of Nascareth'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110878404084898520</id><published>2005-02-18T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-18T19:34:00.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Electric Six</title><content type='html'>I began to listen to this band because they made me laugh, but the more I listen to them, the more I think they are just a frickin' great band. They have the most addictive songs I think I've heard, since the Dead Milkmen. Give 'em a whirl and you will be hooked, like me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110878404084898520?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110878404084898520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110878404084898520' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110878404084898520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110878404084898520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/02/electric-six.html' title='Electric Six'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110878318631633519</id><published>2005-02-18T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-18T19:21:14.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Robotic leg Controlled By Turtle's Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Simon! Get away from that control panel! We must not change the settings while the professor is out of the lab! The consequences could be devastating!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relax Alex. I'm only turning up the voltage a little bit. The turtle is sleeping, anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NO! The leg will act out his dreams!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alex, you are so uptight. Every one of your sentences ends with an exclamation point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the love of God, don't turn that knob!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I won't, but you have to relax, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110878318631633519?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110878318631633519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110878318631633519' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110878318631633519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110878318631633519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/02/robotic-leg-controlled-by-turtles.html' title='Robotic leg Controlled By Turtle&apos;s Thoughts'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110714100121854161</id><published>2005-01-30T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-02T20:58:10.490-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been asleep for 2 days...</title><content type='html'>I've been asleep for two days. I contracted some sort of bug that attacked my ability to not be asleep, late on Friday. While sleeping, I had some really strange dreams. One of them was that Chloe and I were going to Germany. Not sure why, but we were in a hurry. I was wearing a straw hat and a bow tie and she was dressed in a business suit. We got to the airport, which was located in a remodelled Holiday Inn, to find a long line awaiting us. In fact, the line was so long to get in that we were standing the parking lot with our luggage. After a while of standing in the wet parking lot (it had just rained), a voice came over a loud speaker, "Attention travellers! Due to a shortage of usable airplanes, we are going to issue some travellers tickets on our new luxury Zepplins. If your name is called, please step to the side and wait for the sky cap Dickey to issue you your new tickets. Thank You."&lt;br /&gt;  I was excited! I love blimps!&lt;br /&gt;More later if I can remember it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110714100121854161?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110714100121854161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110714100121854161' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110714100121854161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110714100121854161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/ive-been-asleep-for-2-days.html' title='I&apos;ve been asleep for 2 days...'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110644860678500882</id><published>2005-01-22T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T18:50:06.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a thought</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here I sit, above the thin air of winter&lt;br /&gt;In an antique room, atop an antique square&lt;br /&gt;High above the train set&lt;br /&gt;Heaters humming and work lights lit&lt;br /&gt;Wishing I knew some valuable secret.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110644860678500882?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110644860678500882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110644860678500882' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110644860678500882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110644860678500882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/just-thought.html' title='Just a thought'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110611117155793398</id><published>2005-01-18T20:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-18T21:07:44.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello from Denver</title><content type='html'>Rick and I are having a great time! Last night, we stayed in an old motel that looked like a boot. Actually each room was its own boot with a window in the side. It was so pleasant. We had some trouble finding the ice machine, but we did eventually find it behind the office. Rick has to have his gin and tonics or he gets a little restless and has trouble sleeping. You would love the tattoo I got in Missouri. It's an eagle flying above an earth, and the earth is slowly melting into the shape of another eagle that is grasping a dove in its claws! The dove is carrying an olive branch and tipping it's tiny hat to a battleship that has flowers instead of guns on it! The battleship is floating in an ocean, but if you look closely, you can see a face in the water! If you look even closer, you can see that there are many faces: Mohammad Ali, Gandhi, Joe pesci and Oprah Winfrey. They are holding hands and pointing to a shield. The shield says, "To Protect and Serve!". When I get some more money, I want to get it colorized. I saw something you would love in a thrift store, yesterday. It was a drink dispenser made out of old gas caps and playdough! I didn't buy it because it was cracked. We've been on the road for 6 months already! It's seems like five minutes! Chick says I can run the haunted house starting next week and that pays much better than ring toss. I'm stoked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you soon!&lt;br /&gt;Steve&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110611117155793398?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110611117155793398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110611117155793398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110611117155793398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110611117155793398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/hello-from-denver.html' title='Hello from Denver'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110576708405217222</id><published>2005-01-14T21:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T21:35:27.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Open source PBX</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.asterisk.org/"&gt;Asterisk&lt;/a&gt; is a very cool open source PBX solution that I have been learning about lately. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110576708405217222?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110576708405217222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110576708405217222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110576708405217222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110576708405217222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/open-source-pbx.html' title='Open source PBX'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110576571997609022</id><published>2005-01-14T20:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T21:08:39.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I work out Hard!!!!</title><content type='html'>I work out hard! I lift the weight with my arms a lot of times! doin' Lat pulldowns and curls and shit. I work out real hard! I like to sweat. I do maybe 3 sets of 12 hammer lifts and get real pumped up! Sometimes I'll be screamin' and makin loud sounds and shit, and I'll go to the gift shop to cool down and maybe nock over a rack of t-shirts or somethin'. Or maybe I'll eat a candy bar without takin the wrapper off while I'm lookin into the eyes of the cashier. I make growl. Then I go back to the gym and get pumped on some leg presses and do some more curls. I work out big time hard! I like to listen to music when I'm pumpin iron. I play Dokken and Quiet Riot and Slayer. I play it fuckin loud! I put on my walkman when I'm leavin and I put on my hooded sweat shirt and get my gym bag because it has a skull on it, and when I'm leavin, I knock over a couple of trash cans in the lobby and kick this plant they have by the door. Sometimes when I kick the plant, I say boom real low like a frickin Nuke goin off! They probably love it when I leave, cause I work out so frickin' hard I scare the other customers and shit! I work out HARD!  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110576571997609022?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110576571997609022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110576571997609022' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110576571997609022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110576571997609022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-work-out-hard.html' title='I work out Hard!!!!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110541602465118225</id><published>2005-01-10T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T20:04:01.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Jackets for '05</title><content type='html'>Be the talk of the new utopia in one of these!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src=http://www.altvolt.com/images/jacket.jpg&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Designed by:  &lt;a href=http://www.blogger.com/profile/5839865&gt;debbienotdeborah&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110541602465118225?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110541602465118225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110541602465118225' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110541602465118225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110541602465118225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/new-jackets-for-05.html' title='New Jackets for &apos;05'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110498660036139950</id><published>2005-01-05T19:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-05T21:16:54.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a Solution to almost all problems</title><content type='html'>I have invented a plan for the future of civilization that would solve most known problems, such as war, poverty, injustice and possibly disease. It is very simple. Follow these steps:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Disband all standing armies of the world. Each soldier gets $250,000, in cash, an extremely ornate plaque, thanking them for their service and a Chevrolet Corvette. The armies will be replaced with gigantic inflatable skunks on rotating platforms.&lt;br /&gt;The business end of the skunk could be pointed at any invading secret armies that were not replaced by skunks during the replacement phase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Organize a new reality show called, "Trading Spaces: Global Infusion", in which countries take turns decorating each other on a small budget. Holland decorates Japan, Italy decorates Australia and so forth and so on. The unveilings could be broadcast via satellite around the world. The U.N. water cooler would buzz with conversation about how Germany turned Spain into a giant Beer Stube and how China illuminated the skies of South Africa with breathtaking fireworks displays. Or maybe it's not always positive, like, "Did you see Iceland? It's ruined! The Czechs made it look like the set from Happy Days!". "Are you crazy? I loved it! It's like the best one I've seen. My husband and I already have our tickets. We're going this spring for the sock hop."  You know, like the show. Everyone has an opinion and argues and shit, but in a friendly way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Work Weeks are renamed "two day work marathons" and only happen every three years. This will be global law, so no one country does a bunch of work and takes over the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Medicine and free medical how-to CDROMs are distributed every Thursday from mobile Discos made from converted Army surplus vehicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Establish daily "show and tell" programs in local communities, so that citizens can share wonderful things they have found with each other. Initially this program will be staffed with professional showers and tellers to show people how to properly show others their things and to tell people how to properly tell others about new things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Thursday is "make something cool" day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. [Scratched]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Any one found guilty of being un-cool to others will be sent to a spa for a period of one month to collect their thoughts and get their shit together. If you are found guilty of being un-cool to others more than 100 times, your spa period is increased by one month. After twelve hundred infractions, you will be living permanently at the spa in a private wing called the "Long Cool Down Area Wing", or LoCDAW. This private area has many amenities, including a go-cart track and an off-track betting facility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. (This one is in testing, and is, thus, optional) No person is allowed to live in the same country for more than 5 years or less than 3. I know it sucks, but this has huge benefits. After five years in one location, you must draw a new home country from a fish bowl and move there. Your first class air fair is free, and you are given a voucher for $5,000 dollars worth of party supplies to through a bash, in honor of yourself. You may pick up to 700 people to move with you or none if you prefer. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110498660036139950?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110498660036139950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110498660036139950' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110498660036139950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110498660036139950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-have-solution-to-almost-all-problems.html' title='I have a Solution to almost all problems'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110447350164289985</id><published>2004-12-30T21:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-30T22:13:41.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Raven</title><content type='html'>My name's Day Raven. I work for the CIA. You might could already tell that from my under cover costume. My kick ass leather gauntlets and my awesome mustache. Yes, these are real spikes! I'm gonna eat the night alive. Deep deep deeeeeep under cover work at a local drinking establishment, code name ORION. SSShhhh , quiet. Get down! Incoming! wait,...false alarm, but that was good practice, kid. I like the way you hit the deck real fast like that. you have any training? Like CIA stuff or secret service? No? I thought you might have with those quick reflexes. false alarm, false alarm. good practice though. It's just my mother. She's heavily envolved in this exercise. She's actually stationed here full time.&lt;br /&gt;"David? David! Who's bike is this in the foyer?"&lt;br /&gt;"Uh,...that's mine...it's evidence from a sting operation!...Don't touch it! Disturbing a crime is felony!"&lt;br /&gt;Kid, go out the window. I can't let her know that you know about my cover or she will want to relocate the trailor.&lt;br /&gt;go,....go...kid,...take some of this plastique and hide in the bush and wait for me.&lt;br /&gt;"this is silly putty"&lt;br /&gt;"no,..no, it's not silly putty, it's C4, now go! she's coming!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hi honey. Oh my! Why are you wearing grandmother's dress? Where did you find my old wig?&lt;br /&gt;and,...what are those pointed things? are those dangerous?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is Rip Van Winkle to base....I need a pickup, over"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110447350164289985?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110447350164289985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110447350164289985' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110447350164289985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110447350164289985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/day-raven.html' title='Day Raven'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110446425694760003</id><published>2004-12-30T19:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-30T21:26:32.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This New Year's Things That Start with "hand" BLOWOUT</title><content type='html'>handcart&lt;br /&gt;handmade&lt;br /&gt;handmaid&lt;br /&gt;handle&lt;br /&gt;handover&lt;br /&gt;handout&lt;br /&gt;hand-carved&lt;br /&gt;hand-me-down&lt;br /&gt;hand-to-mouth&lt;br /&gt;hand cream&lt;br /&gt;hand truck&lt;br /&gt;hand tool&lt;br /&gt;hand to hand combat&lt;br /&gt;handkerchief&lt;br /&gt;hand in&lt;br /&gt;hand holding&lt;br /&gt;hand drawn&lt;br /&gt;hand crafted&lt;br /&gt;hand painted&lt;br /&gt;hand grenade&lt;br /&gt;handy&lt;br /&gt;handsome&lt;br /&gt;hand to eye coordination&lt;br /&gt;hand stand&lt;br /&gt;hand gun&lt;br /&gt;hand signal&lt;br /&gt;hands down&lt;br /&gt;handle the handles that Handel Handled&lt;br /&gt;hand corrected&lt;br /&gt;hand written&lt;br /&gt;hand it to ya&lt;br /&gt;hand puppet&lt;br /&gt;hand cream&lt;br /&gt;hand sanitizer&lt;br /&gt;hand delivered&lt;br /&gt;hand bag&lt;br /&gt;hand selected&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110446425694760003?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110446425694760003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110446425694760003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110446425694760003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110446425694760003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/this-new-years-things-that-start-with.html' title='This New Year&apos;s Things That Start with &quot;hand&quot; BLOWOUT'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110386341000618295</id><published>2004-12-23T20:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-23T20:43:30.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee leg Ice Pick</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;when I woke up this morning everything was covered in half inch thick ice. I had to use a propane torch to melt it off my truck and a crow bar to open the door. The torch froze in the on position so I took it apart and put it in the middle of my backyard, so if it blew up, it wouldn't really do much damage. One of my shoes got filled up with ice chunks and I spilled coffee on my leg. Work was hot and sleepy. The best thing happened when I came home, though! Ava and Chloe we're waiting for me at the door when I pulled up. I can't describe the joy of seeing my little girl, with that curl on top of her head and that blue, Chinese snow suit, clapping her hands and laughing with excitement to see me. Sometimes I feel like there must be something really exciting going on behind me. I can't explain it. It fills me with warm, bright light and I'm invincible. Chloe gave me a grin like she was already filled up with the light. I love Chloe and Ava.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110386341000618295?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110386341000618295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110386341000618295' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110386341000618295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110386341000618295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/coffee-leg-ice-pick.html' title='Coffee leg Ice Pick'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110376888450114257</id><published>2004-12-22T18:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T18:28:04.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Many Thanks!</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to say thanks to all my readers that have sent fruit baskets this Christmas. It is an understatement to say that I was taken by surprise and deeply touched. It's for you that I do this! I love kiwis. Help! I'm running out of fridge space! The UPS guy is starting to run out of quips. What can I say other than, "Thank You!" and "Pax Wobiscum!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers ;) &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110376888450114257?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110376888450114257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110376888450114257' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376888450114257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376888450114257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/many-thanks.html' title='Many Thanks!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110376818320679760</id><published>2004-12-22T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T18:16:23.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An inspirational speech written by an alien (from space)</title><content type='html'>you think you wont make it but you weeill&lt;br /&gt;you think you cant not do it but you can do it&lt;br /&gt;you just cant believe but you already do think in beliefs&lt;br /&gt;you dont under-stand but you soon you weeill&lt;br /&gt;youre tired and weiery but you are two fulffy to quit&lt;br /&gt;they hold you back but i will push them forward and we'll all go as same one&lt;br /&gt;you think youre out of gas but i own shell station full of beef and pie&lt;br /&gt;you thank of give uping but i cram support and the truth for you&lt;br /&gt;please for sake of earth dont give it for the wrong side&lt;br /&gt;began now to sea the truth in the good one.&lt;br /&gt;stay with it champeon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Urse Blig&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110376818320679760?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110376818320679760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110376818320679760' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376818320679760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376818320679760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/inspirational-speech-written-by-alien.html' title='An inspirational speech written by an alien (from space)'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110376766724491305</id><published>2004-12-22T17:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T18:07:47.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Glory Be!</title><content type='html'>around your head&lt;br /&gt;and down your arm&lt;br /&gt;up through your hair&lt;br /&gt;and wrapping your shoulders&lt;br /&gt;a cool string of wind&lt;br /&gt;a prayer&lt;br /&gt;flat and thick&lt;br /&gt;around and around your brain&lt;br /&gt;smiling and rejoicing&lt;br /&gt;laughin' and singin'&lt;br /&gt;and singin' and laughing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glory Be!&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110376766724491305?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110376766724491305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110376766724491305' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376766724491305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376766724491305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/glory-be.html' title='Glory Be!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110376484742066135</id><published>2004-12-22T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T17:21:19.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Denny</title><content type='html'>Denny was from up at trouble flats. He had a pretty good house with a wood stove and some magazines he got in town. He had a computer that he built himself and a collection of arrowheads that somebody gave him a long time ago. Tuesday, Denny got up and ate breakfast, two eggs, two bacons and two orange juices. He put on his two shoes, a right one and a left one, and peed for two minutes. He put on two shirts and went outside. There was a bunch of fog and a stump. There was a kiddy pool to the east and a cavern to the west. He was carrying a sling shot, medicine and a ring. We went west into the cavern. There was a hallway leading north and a narrow passage to the south. Denny went south through the narrow passage and found a pile of rubble. &lt;inspect rubble&gt;. Denny inspected the rubble and found a magic water. &lt;get water&gt;. Denny drinks the water. "MMmmm, you feel exhilarated!” I didn’t say to drink the water! I said "get water"! Sorry. Denny gets the water. It feels cool in his pocket. Sorry I got so mad about the drinking thing. It's quite alright. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t make assumptions like that, but I've been up all night. It's really not a problem. Don't worry about it. Ok, I appreciate your understanding. Don't mention it.&lt;br /&gt;Do you want to go back to the house, now? That would be great! Denny found himself back at the house with an oven full of fresh bread and a freshly booted computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110376484742066135?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110376484742066135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110376484742066135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376484742066135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376484742066135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/denny.html' title='Denny'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110376394682273350</id><published>2004-12-22T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T17:05:46.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Axe to Grind!</title><content type='html'>Man, I've got a SERIOUS axe to grind! That's right! I've got a bone to pick with you! I have issues! I would like to bend your ear a little, here! I would like to get a couple things straight! Right now! For the record, I have a couple of entries. I think I'll cut to the chase! Try this on for size! Take what I'm about to say, put it in your pipe and smoke it! Just a second, pal! Not so fast! Oh Yea?! Guess what! I don't see it that way! If you want my humble opinion, I would like to say a thing or two about a thing or two! Here's my 2 cents, asshole! I have an item that I would like you to stick where the sun does not shine! You think so? I don't agree! Want some advice? I didn't think you did! Could I please have a word with you? We need to talk! Are you understanding me? I'm at a loss! How about some constructive criticism? I have a couple gripes! Do you read me? It's time to step back, so let’s dive into the problem! I've been analyzing the situation, and I've made a report! So, here it goes! I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110376394682273350?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110376394682273350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110376394682273350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376394682273350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110376394682273350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/axe-to-grind.html' title='Axe to Grind!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110304941722695833</id><published>2004-12-14T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T10:36:57.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You might be a religious nut, if...</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Your bible has a zipper&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;There are religious items in your home that need to be "plugged in".&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;You pray during sex&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Your church shares a drummer with BTO&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;You quote scripture to the person at a drive-thru restaurant window&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;you car has a whip antenna and a sticker of two Jesus hands&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;You have a special "end times" kit under your bed&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;your mustache shares some shades of brown with your sweater.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;You believe that there is a Devil and that he speaks with a British accent and wears a three piece suit.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;You think that Jesus takes a keen interest in the outcome of certain high profile NASCAR races, such as Daytona and the night race at Bristol.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110304941722695833?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110304941722695833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110304941722695833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110304941722695833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110304941722695833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/you-might-be-religious-nut-if.html' title='You might be a religious nut, if...'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110304787406413636</id><published>2004-12-14T10:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T10:11:14.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A poem for harmoneous relaxation </title><content type='html'>Jack hammer, jack hammer&lt;br /&gt;thistle&lt;br /&gt;gristle&lt;br /&gt;pissle&lt;br /&gt;over weight muscle man&lt;br /&gt;riding on a missile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bamboo, Shampoo&lt;br /&gt;minky&lt;br /&gt;tinky&lt;br /&gt;flinky&lt;br /&gt;skinny little robot mouse&lt;br /&gt;riding on your pinky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110304787406413636?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110304787406413636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110304787406413636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110304787406413636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110304787406413636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/poem-for-harmoneous-relaxation.html' title='A poem for harmoneous relaxation '/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110300553185550358</id><published>2004-12-13T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T22:27:39.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gorgeous Eddie</title><content type='html'>Gorgeous Eddie was the most gorgous in his village. He had plastic surgery every Wednesday to keep his gorgeous up. Once he looked at a lady at the fair, and she died of lust. Another time he made the cows cry gallon sized tears of envy, and they had to close the village because of flooding.&lt;br /&gt;I remember in 1965, a local chap challenged Eddie to a looks contest, but before it even started, Eddie flexed his arm muscle and his younger opponent pissed himself for forty days and forty nights. A raft was constructed by a bearded fella on the outskirts of town, to keep all the animals safe. Eddie fed them his gorgeous sweat and they grew big and gorgeous, and a handsome rainbow filled the sky. Eddie is no longer with us, but last year alone, his corpse won beauty pageants in eleven counties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110300553185550358?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110300553185550358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110300553185550358' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110300553185550358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110300553185550358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/gorgeous-eddie.html' title='Gorgeous Eddie'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110300464503730265</id><published>2004-12-13T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T16:47:29.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>farm raised cricket meat</title><content type='html'>imagine sitting in a circle with 70 or 80 little furry, pot-bellied creatures. Some of them have a sense of humor and others are more serious, like they are in charge of refueling the ark they all ride in. after sitting quietly for a while, they serve you some food made out of food particles. You politely fake a smile, but the food is from another place in time and it tastes like ass. One of the smarter creatures can see that you are faking it and challenges you to a duel. This angers some of the other little guys and they split off from the main group to start their own group of moderate, peace-loving, pot-bellied creatures. Over time they become quite powerful politically and make your group into slaves. You spend the next four or five years working in their waste disposal facility on another planet. Meanwhile there is a civil war and you are freed. You are unsure what to do with your new freedom and start a support group for other freed slaves. You become very popular amoung the members of the group and decide to run for city council. You win and move into a larger mushroom closer to the seven suns of pu. See how your luck turned around? That was awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110300464503730265?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110300464503730265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110300464503730265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110300464503730265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110300464503730265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/farm-raised-cricket-meat.html' title='farm raised cricket meat'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110300381799856146</id><published>2004-12-13T21:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T21:56:57.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moon Base King tUT whippit!</title><content type='html'>go out to the moon and cut a hunk out of the ground. push a stake into the dust and put a tiny green flag on it. Your done! Now drive your car into that hole and turn your delco all the way up to 30 on the oldies channel. light one Vantage cigarette and say the lords prayer five times really fast. now get out of the car and stand at a 45 degree angle until you fall asleep and keep sleeping for an hour or two. Now get up and wipe the moon dust off your pants. now, dig a small hole in the ground next to the big hole that your car is in, put your headphones on and put your face in the hole. wait 16 seconds and take your pants off. Your done! Now put your pants back on inside out and jump as hard as you can at the earth. hehe you can't. That's called gravity. Didn't know the moon had it? well it does, holmes.  put this sweat suit on. good.  now walk out on that pier and start fishing  with this blood bait. Channel cats  have to hit it. It's in their genes.  now, say, "I LOVE LOS LOBOS" really fast 1 time.  I'm only gonna tell you one more time! Get back in your car and keep your hands where I can see them! I'm going to my cruiser and run your license. When I come back your hands better be on that steering wheel. That's how it is in the database, and that's how it's gonna be tonight. Do you understand? Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110300381799856146?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110300381799856146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110300381799856146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110300381799856146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110300381799856146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/moon-base-king-tut-whippit.html' title='Moon Base King tUT whippit!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-110268812797071040</id><published>2004-12-10T06:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-10T06:17:37.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey look! it's angry guy!</title><content type='html'>  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;WOW&lt;/b&gt;, it's been two months since my last post and it was really shocking to see my previous post. I seem so angry. That's not very accurate, I think. I wonder what was in my craw that day? Oh well, I guess that's the interesting side to blogging. If a blog refers back to itself that might be an infinite loop. Who is reading this? Why am I writing this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God Bless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;As a matter of principle, I never attend the first annual anything.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;George Carlin&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-110268812797071040?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/110268812797071040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=110268812797071040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110268812797071040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/110268812797071040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/12/hey-look-its-angry-guy.html' title='Hey look! it&apos;s angry guy!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-109685937933878173</id><published>2004-10-03T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-03T20:10:29.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Physics</title><content type='html'>My Grandmother, Gladys,  gave me a book today that was my grandfathers in high school. It was printed in 1925. It's a book on elementary physics. Funny thing is, it's far more advanced and better written than my physics books from my college engineering courses. One exception is that this book does not mention calculus, but, hey... that’s a good thing! The black and white pictures, sprinkled throughout the book, help describe the concept of inertia with scenes of elegant dirigibles and show top hatted gentler men discussing fluid dynamics, while women in corsets serve them tea. One of my favorite sections talks about the various theories concerning what the building blocks of a molecule might actually be. I guess in 1925, that was still up in the air. Hell, maybe it still is! How the hell would I know. It read physics books for the pictures. Some of the pen and ink diagrams in the book were very very well drawn in their almost ancient cross hatch style, but some of them had little ink blobs at the end of their lines where the penman's stroke was just a hair delayed. I thought to my self, "this is great! these guys didn't give a fuck about those little blobs. The drawing was perfect and beautiful, and who gives a flyin' fuck if there are little ink blobs at the end of the line." Today, some asshole production manager would call a meeting, in which she would go on and on about how this was unacceptable workmanship and this and that and blah, blah, blah, until everyone wanted to kill her. Then, after work, the diagram artist guys would congregate at a local tavern, drinking Amstel light and talking about their asshole project manager. But, what the hell am I talking about? No one uses ink anymore, so it's really moot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-109685937933878173?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/109685937933878173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=109685937933878173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/109685937933878173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/109685937933878173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/10/physics.html' title='Physics'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590.post-109677848530944638</id><published>2004-10-02T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-02T21:41:25.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's kick this off!</title><content type='html'>ok...Imagine your traveling from Omaha to Cleveland in a grey, four-door Toyota, along with three other members of the sociology department, each one smoking a burlwood pipe and pecking on a laptop. All you've eaten today is a bag of Doritos from a la Quinta Inn vending machine and some beef jerky.  You would like some coffee. Traffic is stopped because of bridge construction, and the radio has a strange humming sound that drowns out the music and causes headaches and nausea. The conversation inside the car turns to Lord of the Rings and fantasy role playing. It is very hot outside. It is about 3 degrees cooler inside the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for imagining that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;welcome to my blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8569590-109677848530944638?l=cfps.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/feeds/109677848530944638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8569590&amp;postID=109677848530944638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/109677848530944638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default/109677848530944638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/2004/10/lets-kick-this-off.html' title='Let&apos;s kick this off!'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
