<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569590</id><updated>2009-12-13T11:08:47.685-08:00</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?orderby=updated'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cfps.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8569590/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;orderby=updated'/><author><name>C Hurley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09537812642092549775</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>62</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></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 xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></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 xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></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 xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></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 xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>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='https://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:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='12107799098773522785'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>