<?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-7168435536295051467</id><updated>2012-01-14T02:22:39.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>{{Veni` Vidi` Vulture`}}</title><subtitle type='html'>Yes, I came, I saw a vulture</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-4727447614033697618</id><published>2008-06-19T10:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T10:57:24.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~Check out my new blogs~</title><content type='html'>Hey everybody I am no longer confined to one blog. Check out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Define Your Space&lt;br /&gt;The Dumping Ground&lt;br /&gt;Ya Das Stempt&lt;br /&gt;My Haircuts&lt;br /&gt;A 1 an a 2&lt;br /&gt;O.C.D.A.D.H.D.W.I.F.I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The links to them all are where they should be, in the links list. Duh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-4727447614033697618?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/4727447614033697618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=4727447614033697618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/4727447614033697618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/4727447614033697618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2008/06/check-out-my-new-blogs.html' title='~Check out my new blogs~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-8300441773759518962</id><published>2008-06-18T14:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T14:25:27.613-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~I am no longer homeschooling~</title><content type='html'>Yes folks, you read correctly. I am not going to be homeschooled any longer. Instead I am going to the same school as Fuzzy Squirrel. I did not really have any say in this, but I do believe this will be for the greater good. :)&lt;br /&gt;I need something to keep me on my work, (nothin' like a deadline) and the other factor is that my mom will not be able to teach Molly and I any more.&lt;br /&gt;more commin' soon! over and out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-8300441773759518962?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/8300441773759518962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=8300441773759518962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/8300441773759518962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/8300441773759518962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-am-no-longer-homeschooling.html' title='~I am no longer homeschooling~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-5338392539059937360</id><published>2008-02-28T09:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T09:50:23.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~New blog comming!~</title><content type='html'>Hey everyone!&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be creating a new blog!&lt;br /&gt;And I'm going to release the new title!&lt;br /&gt;My new blog will be called, defineyourspace.blogspot.com!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh and if anyone knows someone who has a banjo they want to sell let me know.&lt;br /&gt;(my price range is from $0-$600)&lt;br /&gt;thanx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-5338392539059937360?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/5338392539059937360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=5338392539059937360&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5338392539059937360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5338392539059937360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2008/02/new-blog-comming.html' title='~New blog comming!~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-2995784958760055055</id><published>2008-02-20T22:49:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T23:07:03.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~I'm back in the blogger world!~</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R7z27gd0MmI/AAAAAAAAAFw/MZiYxACtmMk/s1600-h/HPIM9447.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R7z27gd0MmI/AAAAAAAAAFw/MZiYxACtmMk/s400/HPIM9447.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169277974502191714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YEAH CHECK OUT THE HAIR!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's up folks!?? It's been a while huh? Well, my life has completely changed in the past five months. Here's some of the major things. My grandma died, moved from the country to the city, playing indoor soccer for the first time, um... I can't remember anything else at the momment, but still. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just put some pics up so everyone knows what I look like!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R7z4XQd0MnI/AAAAAAAAAF4/iFsdvK2H5Cs/s1600-h/HPIM9488.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R7z4XQd0MnI/AAAAAAAAAF4/iFsdvK2H5Cs/s400/HPIM9488.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169279550755189362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-2995784958760055055?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/2995784958760055055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=2995784958760055055&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/2995784958760055055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/2995784958760055055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2008/02/im-back-in-blogger-world.html' title='~I&apos;m back in the blogger world!~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R7z27gd0MmI/AAAAAAAAAFw/MZiYxACtmMk/s72-c/HPIM9447.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-7833016769480498127</id><published>2007-10-23T18:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T19:28:15.431-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~Make-up Time!~</title><content type='html'>So... I've been really busy lately. School, eating, saving the world, and all that hooey. Um...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rx58oIBbX-I/AAAAAAAAAFk/A2Gt-rtFIiE/s1600-h/sam%27s+pics+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rx58oIBbX-I/AAAAAAAAAFk/A2Gt-rtFIiE/s320/sam%27s+pics+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124670454784286690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not a joke. This is a real tomb stone in some hippie town in Illinois, called Macanda. &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/7168435536295051467-7833016769480498127?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/7833016769480498127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=7833016769480498127&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/7833016769480498127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/7833016769480498127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/10/make-up-time.html' title='~Make-up Time!~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rx58oIBbX-I/AAAAAAAAAFk/A2Gt-rtFIiE/s72-c/sam%27s+pics+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-6029186165391770627</id><published>2007-09-22T12:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T16:08:36.714-05:00</updated><title type='text'>~I'm not happy Bob~</title><content type='html'>Let's start out with something really random. ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-6029186165391770627?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/6029186165391770627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=6029186165391770627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6029186165391770627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6029186165391770627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/09/im-not-happy-bob.html' title='~I&apos;m not happy Bob~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-8935281367154582191</id><published>2007-08-21T10:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T16:03:20.030-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~Lot's of Interesting Things Have Been Happening~</title><content type='html'>Hello.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;It's been a long time since the last post and I've been getting lot's of annoying requests from people. So here it is. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks ago Joe, my sister and I were standing in the lobby of our church talking, and joe was making fun of molly. I don't remember what it was about but it somehow involved swing one leg back and forth. Any ways I saw a helpless old gentleman about to walk right behing Joe. U know the rest. Poor old man.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I have put peroxide in my hair a total of three times, giving me a really nice hair color, at least I like it!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;My sister and her gang are trying to get me, zach, and jonah to be in a really tragic&lt;br /&gt;home-made movie. Us boys were kinda leaning toward a really random comedy/ soap opera!&lt;br /&gt;Anyways we tried filming some fight scenes and fire works... those didn't really turn out movie-style, but they are hilarious to watch slowed down twice! This slowed-down movie, sounds like he is "under the influence" of many things! it's the funniest thing about the whole movie. Molly's laugh comes in second. It's the bomb. Molly's laugh is not really quoteable, but Zach's ramblings are like quotes from Napolion Dynamite, or Nacho Libre. in fact here are some that come to mind. Zach says in a slurred voice, "I don't understand these guys, You just hit me once and I run away," or "Yeah, these guys feel kinda hyper right now!!!!!!!!!!" (You have to see them to understand them) I'm prolly going to make a freakn' lot of dvd's with this and more on them. And mabye they will become available trough the S's.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Zach, Jonah, and I went to see a movie a the theater, and my dad was there to pick us up. When we went outside Zach, being the non-stop type, started searching the parking lot for my dad's car. My dad thoght this was funny, so he let Zach lead us all through the  lines of cars. This made Zach kinda emotional, jumping up in the air, yelling, running, and this also prepared him for the laugh-at-anything mood he was to have when we found my dad's car. When we did find the car, Zach started singing with really cheesy jazz, not to mention his air guitar. When we got home, (they were spending the night) my mom made pizza for us. Poor jonah just got his braces tightened and he was only able to eat four bites of pizza. Dessert came next,and when Zach saw the spray-wipped cream he nominated himself to be the squirter. "This is definately theraputic!" He said when he started squirting. He had so much fun doing this that he started laughing to the point of crying. All in all Zach had a very emotional day, and I had fun enjoying it!&lt;br /&gt;Till next post, Bye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-8935281367154582191?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/8935281367154582191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=8935281367154582191&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/8935281367154582191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/8935281367154582191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/08/lots-of-interesting-things-have-been.html' title='~Lot&apos;s of Interesting Things Have Been Happening~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-7649301465207105474</id><published>2007-08-01T13:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T14:15:40.319-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~Buried in the Beach and Breeding Beards~</title><content type='html'>I think that the grammar rule that I break the most is the rule that states: Always avoid annoying alliteration. AAAAAHHHHH there I go again!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I almost have my GMA (gold medal of achievement) which is equivalent to the boy scouts gold eagle!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to grow a beard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RrDAlhVcpXI/AAAAAAAAAFc/JLEYYDMLdH8/s1600-h/Sam+with+nice+beard.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RrDAlhVcpXI/AAAAAAAAAFc/JLEYYDMLdH8/s320/Sam+with+nice+beard.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093782929392051570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Two nights ago I went to a Rebellion's Fall concert instead of Kutless. They were having a fund raiser because they are going to compete in a national fine arts competition, if you can call screamo music fine art!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday at the lake Sam S. and I buried Zach in the sand so that he couldn't move. He sure could scream though. I've got a picture of this, but I need Zach to e-mail it to me! &lt;br /&gt;When Zach finally got out of the ground, he decided it was pay back time. He got Sam to help him dig the whole again for me. They buried me pretty good and my sister decided to put some make-up on me to make me look like a dead girl. Sam got a stick and put it at my head. then they everybody stood around me like they were having a funeral. There is a picture of this also, and I will put it on here as soon as I get it!&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;It's deadly hot out, and my sister is gone to the fair with her friend. I've never set foot on the fair grounds in my life.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about taking some martial arts lessons at the YMCA.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Some stuff is freaky. My friend is starting to drive, which means I'm next. And school is starting in about two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-7649301465207105474?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/7649301465207105474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=7649301465207105474&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/7649301465207105474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/7649301465207105474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/08/buried-in-beach-and-breeding-beards.html' title='~Buried in the Beach and Breeding Beards~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RrDAlhVcpXI/AAAAAAAAAFc/JLEYYDMLdH8/s72-c/Sam+with+nice+beard.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-3960701449952171058</id><published>2007-07-20T11:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T12:02:02.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~HELLO? The bloger world is dead!~</title><content type='html'>People! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of going to everybody's blogs and seeing the same old things.&lt;br /&gt;(exception Strider, and Ducky)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, all of you guys on my blog links list needs to post or else something with happen. I don't know what, but something will happen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and when that something happens, let it be a lesson to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-3960701449952171058?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/3960701449952171058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=3960701449952171058&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/3960701449952171058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/3960701449952171058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/07/hello-i-think-bloger-world-is-dead.html' title='~HELLO? The bloger world is dead!~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-6879848349991724398</id><published>2007-07-12T14:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T16:15:16.638-04:00</updated><title type='text'>~"I think I just inhaled a tiny candy-covered pretzel!"~</title><content type='html'>One of the many exotic phrases that were yelled yesterday at Stockton Lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also:&lt;br /&gt;S. "Throw me some chips."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Put them right there."&lt;br /&gt;S. "There's some mutant, out-door-version, brown recluses in the canoe!"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Sam get the boat over here 'cause my arms are getting tired!"&lt;br /&gt;S. "It's harder than it looks."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "You mean you JUST tied the rope to the tree."&lt;br /&gt;S. "OOPS!"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "You ____ nerd"&lt;br /&gt;S. "hey let's go to that little cove."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Don't eat all the precious candied peanuts."&lt;br /&gt;S. "I dropped one!"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Save it!"&lt;br /&gt;S. "Too late!"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "The water is only about 80% Bliss."&lt;br /&gt;S. "It's too windy."&lt;br /&gt;S. "Maybe when we get back, we can take a dip in the 98% Bliss."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Where's our favorite picnic spot?"&lt;br /&gt;S. "This yellow raft is a little small for comfort."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Yeah, those people are looking at us."&lt;br /&gt;Stranger "I like your little boat."&lt;br /&gt;S. "Yep, me too, It's a little small though."&lt;br /&gt;S. "It's kind of hard not to go round in circles."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Hey we used to be over there!"&lt;br /&gt;S. "Let's head back."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "In a Couple minutes, I need to work on my tan."&lt;br /&gt;S. "Make sure you don't get any little floatys in my water bottle."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Boy, peanut butter and jelly sure makes me thirsty."&lt;br /&gt;S. "OH GRODEY! Oily residue!"&lt;br /&gt;S. "Grandma's looking a little nervous."&lt;br /&gt;Z. "You would be too if you were seventy something and you were going water skiing for the first time!"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "Sometimes I can make myself feel better if I look where I'm not tanned."&lt;br /&gt;S. "Where's that? (...awkward silence...) Never mind."&lt;br /&gt;S. "Want some organic fig newtons?"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "WHAT?"&lt;br /&gt;S. "Never mind." &lt;br /&gt;S. "New-comers!"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "I Want a jet ski!"&lt;br /&gt;S. "Is that your mom yelling?"&lt;br /&gt;Z. "yep we'd better head back!"&lt;br /&gt;                                   (Z=Zach, S=Sam)&lt;br /&gt;See yal at the H2o this Saturday! Drink lots of water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-6879848349991724398?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/6879848349991724398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=6879848349991724398&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6879848349991724398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6879848349991724398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-think-i-just-inhaled-tiny-candy.html' title='~&quot;I think I just inhaled a tiny candy-covered pretzel!&quot;~'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-1653927813085172715</id><published>2007-07-02T16:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T11:50:56.299-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Nerdiish Acts of Boredem-</title><content type='html'>Summer makes me so desperate. To the point of spending two hours in a field whacking Japanese Beatles with a badminton racket. Pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading a book called: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE NUEROTIC'S HANDBOOK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The very nervous person's guide to life in the modern world, including blind dates, shallow breathing, alien cultures, New Year's Eve, touching bottom of the lake with your feet, and just about everything you can think of&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's you definition of desperate?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-1653927813085172715?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/1653927813085172715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=1653927813085172715&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1653927813085172715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1653927813085172715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/07/nerdiish-acts-of-boredem.html' title='-Nerdiish Acts of Boredem-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-1097392037933026296</id><published>2007-06-23T18:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T14:41:53.266-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-A Warmish Campout-</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a campout with Zach C. We went down to the creek around 8:00 to set up camp. This took a long time because we had to have tick checks every five minutes, and because the hay in the fields were so thick. Once we had set up camp we went back up to the house to watch a little Pirates 2. Around ten we headed back down to our very grown-up camp site. After building a pathetic fire with lighter fluid (the fast way)we sat around it for 45 minutes talking about Zach's adventures at World View Camp. When we hit the hay (literally)Zach remmembered that he had packed an orange soda in his bag. I looked at the nutrition facts on the back of this off-brand soda. After some gruelling math (it's summer time)I came to the conclusion that the little can of soda had more sugar that a whole bottle of Vault (get to it)! Zach drank his half, and then handed me the can. &lt;br /&gt;I still can't belive I drank that stuff right before bed, I already knew it was going to be tough to cool down in the humidity. Sure enough I was up for an hour and a half trying to find out which I could lie down on my sticky sleeping bag without drowning. I was so ticked that Zach was able to be in a wool sleeping bag with his blanky on top of that without even breaking a sweat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up in the morning the sun was scorching my tent. I was sweating so bad I had to wade in the cold lake for a couple of minutes. Once we had packed up the camp it was my turn to pull the wagon up the loooong trail through the belly button-high grass and steep woods. Let's just say I had earned a shower on this camping trip, and afterwards I enjoyed breakfast and some saturday cartoons for kids with ADHD. Suddenly my mom picked me up and I went home to relax some more.&lt;br /&gt;I took a two hour nap and here I am!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-1097392037933026296?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/1097392037933026296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=1097392037933026296&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1097392037933026296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1097392037933026296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/06/warmish-campout.html' title='-A Warmish Campout-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-4469305813368330133</id><published>2007-06-14T18:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T16:09:23.585-05:00</updated><title type='text'>-My wonderful summer-</title><content type='html'>Well everyone, my summer is going pretty fine, just petty fine. It seems like I'm always busy doing nothing these days. I LOVE AIR CONDITONING! My mom and dad are basicly fixin' to remodel our kitchen, so I bleached everything today. It's so pathetic how little I have to write down here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-4469305813368330133?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/4469305813368330133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=4469305813368330133&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/4469305813368330133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/4469305813368330133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-wonderful-summer.html' title='-My wonderful summer-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-3915714119118969360</id><published>2007-06-09T18:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T16:19:58.924-05:00</updated><title type='text'>-Random Acts of summer- Barbie/Beatles Bash-</title><content type='html'>Today I was outside walking around the house when I noticed a plastic leg sticking out from the gutter. I grabbed a ladder and a pole then I was able to make the plastic object fall to the ground. Then, because of my boredom, I picked up the sun bleached barbie and wacked it with the pole as if it was a baseball. This, not supprisingly broke the barbie into two pieces. After the examining the barbie, which had traveled over twenty feet, I picked it/her up and looked at the back. It was a 1966 barbie completely ruined. Deciding to give the barbie a proper burial, I immediately started digging a grave behind the barn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, every body!&lt;br /&gt;This is one of the many drafts that were in my archives.&lt;br /&gt;It sure is amazing what I write when I'm bored!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R8xqfI7WOgI/AAAAAAAAAGM/W8c_F3C-z6Q/s1600-h/IMG_0584.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R8xqfI7WOgI/AAAAAAAAAGM/W8c_F3C-z6Q/s400/IMG_0584.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173627155146750466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-3915714119118969360?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/3915714119118969360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=3915714119118969360&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/3915714119118969360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/3915714119118969360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/06/random-acts-of-summer-barbiebeatles.html' title='-Random Acts of summer- Barbie/Beatles Bash-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/R8xqfI7WOgI/AAAAAAAAAGM/W8c_F3C-z6Q/s72-c/IMG_0584.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-5110295716439753899</id><published>2007-06-03T14:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T15:21:11.139-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-I've been helpful and bored-</title><content type='html'>I'm at my Grandma's house. Do I have to say any more?! When I was packing for this little trip, I didn't know I would be staying past Sunday, so I forgot any churchy clothes. By the time I had eaten breakfast, the family was ready for church, and I hadn't even showered yet. I ended up staying home from church due to overwhelming excuses. Being the obsessive compulsive cleaner that I am, I immediately set about the housework I had assigned myself. First I wiped the sticky inside of the fridge and the bottoms of the condiments that had been sitting in grape juice that had spilled. Then I moved on to general clean-up in the living room area. After all that, I washed the breakfast dishes, and emptied the dish washer while listening to Chet Atkins music. After completing all this I had to wait for my family to get back from church. When They got back, my mom, grandma, and aunt, set about getting lunch on the table. Lunch passed to quickly and I began the looooooooooooong afternoon. My sister and cousin aren't helping me a bit- they like to torment me by acting like the lamest people in the world (actually they don't have to act). The only thing they will do with me is take a walk in the 90 degree weather. When I say it's hot out, Rebecca says "But it's cloudy out!" and I say " yeah I know, that makes the earth more insulated!" I'm going to die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-5110295716439753899?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/5110295716439753899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=5110295716439753899&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5110295716439753899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5110295716439753899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/06/ive-been-helpful-and-bored.html' title='-I&apos;ve been helpful and bored-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-5186432670034995513</id><published>2007-05-28T19:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T21:57:16.301-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Meet My Sister Molly-</title><content type='html'>Have you ever met my sister? If you have, you know she can be pretty fun to hang out around, and you also know she can get pretty weird sometimes! No one knows what I have to go through though. Sometimes if you tick her off in the slightest way, she gets very physical. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RltthxGjVXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ZpfU4nypmkA/s1600-h/IMG_0510.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RltthxGjVXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ZpfU4nypmkA/s320/IMG_0510.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069766232419554674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See what I mean? (I barely got this photo on here too!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-5186432670034995513?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/5186432670034995513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=5186432670034995513&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5186432670034995513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5186432670034995513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/05/meet-my-sister-molly.html' title='-Meet My Sister Molly-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RltthxGjVXI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ZpfU4nypmkA/s72-c/IMG_0510.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-1700444252972981481</id><published>2007-05-27T17:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T18:06:04.333-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Agnus Dei Qui Tolis Pecata Mundi!-</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RloAghGjVTI/AAAAAAAAAD8/nz5BhGV3Rsw/s1600-h/IMG_0520.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RloAghGjVTI/AAAAAAAAAD8/nz5BhGV3Rsw/s400/IMG_0520.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069364889200579890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday is a good time to dress up as the pope. Yes, that is my pope costume that I used a couple years back. It's a little bit wrinkled but oh well. If everyone want's me to I'll wear it to an H2O.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rln-rBGjVSI/AAAAAAAAAD0/GnOxgIkl1HA/s1600-h/IMG_0512.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rln-rBGjVSI/AAAAAAAAAD0/GnOxgIkl1HA/s400/IMG_0512.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069362870565950754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-1700444252972981481?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/1700444252972981481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=1700444252972981481&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1700444252972981481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1700444252972981481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/05/agnus-dei-qui-tolis-pecata-mundi.html' title='-Agnus Dei Qui Tolis Pecata Mundi!-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RloAghGjVTI/AAAAAAAAAD8/nz5BhGV3Rsw/s72-c/IMG_0520.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-1873689968800435922</id><published>2007-05-27T15:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T19:20:03.568-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Plumbing Thumpings, Chicken Guttings-</title><content type='html'>Hello!&lt;br /&gt;I have collected lots of different topics to blog about since the last post.&lt;br /&gt;I will start with the national track meet. I did very well considering this is my first year of track. Next topic. My dad just got back late on Thursday night from his two and a half week Italy trip. It's very nice having him back. As soon as he got back, the strangest thing started happening to the plumbing and electricity. When ever someone flushed the toilet, the lights would flicker and a deep thumping noise would come reverberating up from the basement, as if there was a huge heart down below. The water started turning a rusty brown color. It was almost like our house was coming alive and was starting to pump blood through the pipes! Then the plumber came and fixed the problem by releasing excess air out of the water tank. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I was cordially invited to help my friend's family on chicken slaughtering day. when I arrived I discovered that I needed to go arouse Zach who had gone on a camp out in the pouring rain with some friends from church. When I stealthily arrived at the campsite I noticed that they had built their tents inside a big barn they had found on the property. It looked pretty dumb, having tents inside a big moderately dry barn. Anyways, none of the campers had woken up yet, so I set about the task of deciding how to wake them. They were all cruelly woken up by the horn of a truck that was parked outside the barn. That did the trick and I soon had my friend packed up and on our way back home to kill some chickens! When we got back to Zach's house his dad put us to work building a fire to burn the numerous feathers, intestines, and heads that we would soon have. After a little bit Zach's dad called me over to the big stainless-steel slaughter table to get my hands wet, (literally). I tried getting Zach to try to gut a chicken at the same time as me.  Unfortunately, Zach can't take the warm squishy feeling of the inside of a chicken, (Zach had the job of transporting chickens, and plucking them. Even then he ware gloves.) so I had to brave it alone. Once I had ripped out the entrails from my first bird. I was able to decapitate, dip, pluck, gut, and clean chickens all by myself! One time I was gutting a chicken at the same time as Zach's dad, and he accidentally popped the gall bladder of his chicken, squirting green liquid all over my shirt. Occasionally I would dump some guts on our fire, watching, and smelling them sizzle on the coals. We only let one chicken run around after hacking its head off, because that gets a little messy. It was really amazing to see a 6Lb chicken doing back flips! By the end of the day I had gutted about twenty chickens. After we had finished doing all the chickens, Zach and I decided to go down to the creek to see how much stuff had been wiped from the creek bed. When we were standing beside the creek another torrential down pour started to soak us. When we were heading back to the house, we fell into a huge puddle in the middle of a field. The nice soak was very refreshing, invigorating, and made us forget completely about all the guts we had seen and all the nasty smells we had smelled. After getting to shower we all went to Braum's to eat. I got a grilled chicken sandwich and a large mint shake, and I was able to get through it all without thinking too much about the texture of the chicken or how the shake looked like gall bladder bile. After I got home It was time to go to bed. I'll bet you can guess what I did when I got home, I went to bed! Too read my friend telling about this day click the link on the side of this page that says the screaming penguin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-1873689968800435922?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/1873689968800435922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=1873689968800435922&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1873689968800435922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1873689968800435922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/05/hello-i-have-collected-lots-of.html' title='-Plumbing Thumpings, Chicken Guttings-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-3207832797167405881</id><published>2007-05-17T07:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T08:47:14.403-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sorry everybody I'm at strider's house using the Internet because ours is not working, and I accidentally deleted all your new comments on the old pictures post. I was trying to post your comments a new way because my e-mail wouldn't pop up. Special apologies to Fuzzy Squirrel, Spitting llama, Jessie, Ka Ka, etc... I just came back from a camping trip with Screaming Ducky, I mean Penguin, and his little bro. It was about 55 degrees warmer than the last camp out which was around twenty degrees. Again I was sweating all night long. I got really thirsty because I had to bed before our ice had melted. I had to go to bed because Luke wouldn't go to sleep without me and Zach in the tent. Once we got to bed, Luke started winding down. The last thing he said was "Those whippoorwills will stop in a couple of minutes.&lt;br /&gt;" Of course they went the whole night. It took me quite a while to go to sleep, and after an hour I was awakened by Zach's usual camping noises, consisting of grunts, whispers, and other indiscernible chirps. His camping noises were a lot louder the last time we went camping because he was under the influence of NyQuil. After he quieted down, Zach slowly rolled over on me because I was in the same place where his bunk bed rail is relative to where he usually sleeps. When I had successfully pushed him off, I resumed my interrupted snooze. Morning arrived to early, and we got up and went through the usual morning routine. Next we packed up and went to the house to eat breakfast, raisin bran to be exact. Since went camped on a school night, we had to do some work. The rest is not worth telling. I'm skipping the last track practise to go to Silver Dollar City with strider's family. My dad is in Italy, my mom is in Texas, heading to St. Louis, and then to Florida. That's why I'm being farmed out to people, poor people. Thus I runneth out of breatheth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-3207832797167405881?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/3207832797167405881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=3207832797167405881&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/3207832797167405881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/3207832797167405881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/05/sorry-everybody-im-at-striders-house.html' title=''/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-136027853622032592</id><published>2007-05-01T19:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T16:44:43.073-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Old Photos-</title><content type='html'>I THINK EVERYONE SHOULD HAVE A SECTION OF THEIR BLOG DEVOTED TO OLD FAMILY PHOTOS.&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of my family photos randomly selected from our photo collection. I will try to give a nice comment for each pic. I'm going from oldest to more recent photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfayLvBnKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/bpi0_oZRr0w/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfayLvBnKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/bpi0_oZRr0w/s320/car+trip+w+molly+030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059753262052383906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my dad back when people didn't think you were weird if you dressed that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfbXLvBnLI/AAAAAAAAACA/TNM55My4EC8/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfbXLvBnLI/AAAAAAAAACA/TNM55My4EC8/s320/car+trip+w+molly+031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059753897707543730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom doesn't look to thrilled about eating that egg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rjfcd7vBnMI/AAAAAAAAACI/xw6Odf7oV_o/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rjfcd7vBnMI/AAAAAAAAACI/xw6Odf7oV_o/s320/car+trip+w+molly+024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059755113183288514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something must have been pretty funny. Mabey I went poopoo in my pants!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfW3LvBnJI/AAAAAAAAABw/UqjRwGoWBn0/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfW3LvBnJI/AAAAAAAAABw/UqjRwGoWBn0/s320/car+trip+w+molly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059748949905218706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born at an early age, and I was small back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjflrrvBnSI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ikrDGrjZaac/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjflrrvBnSI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ikrDGrjZaac/s320/car+trip+w+molly+032.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059765245011139874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was too little to know what I was wearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rjfmn7vBnTI/AAAAAAAAADA/8yGU9JkJkeM/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rjfmn7vBnTI/AAAAAAAAADA/8yGU9JkJkeM/s320/car+trip+w+molly+033.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059766280098258226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably my cutest picture ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfnVbvBnUI/AAAAAAAAADI/ZRYV3FhSINM/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfnVbvBnUI/AAAAAAAAADI/ZRYV3FhSINM/s320/car+trip+w+molly+034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059767061782306114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I was supposed to be a dog that year for the costume party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfdA7vBnNI/AAAAAAAAACQ/AW0sWPBTH7M/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfdA7vBnNI/AAAAAAAAACQ/AW0sWPBTH7M/s320/car+trip+w+molly+025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059755714478709970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molly's quest for eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfWR7vBnII/AAAAAAAAABo/kIgwlnj7mKM/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfWR7vBnII/AAAAAAAAABo/kIgwlnj7mKM/s320/car+trip+w+molly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059748309955091586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, my sister on the left, then my cousin Kris, then my cousin Rebecca, then me and my pot belly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfgubvBnRI/AAAAAAAAACw/nvBbFiIjhjQ/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfgubvBnRI/AAAAAAAAACw/nvBbFiIjhjQ/s320/car+trip+w+molly+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059759794697641234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister was so small in that violin class. I don't know where the teacher got all that patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfdxLvBnOI/AAAAAAAAACY/K7LFnyWNZ94/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfdxLvBnOI/AAAAAAAAACY/K7LFnyWNZ94/s320/car+trip+w+molly+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059756543407398114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molly has a mischievous look on her face, and I'm just a cute and cuddly little two-year-old! I'd better watch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjffGLvBnPI/AAAAAAAAACg/sLN8Pktjvak/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjffGLvBnPI/AAAAAAAAACg/sLN8Pktjvak/s320/car+trip+w+molly+027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059758003696278770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again Molly has a quality facial expression. Grandma doesn't approve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rjfn67vBnVI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ijuZcq7wj70/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/Rjfn67vBnVI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ijuZcq7wj70/s320/car+trip+w+molly+035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059767706027400530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too many cheerios. (I don't get sick of cereal any more.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjffxrvBnQI/AAAAAAAAACo/DUDzqFzY6MY/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjffxrvBnQI/AAAAAAAAACo/DUDzqFzY6MY/s320/car+trip+w+molly+028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059758751020588290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we are examining our catches. Luke is on the far left, then Molly, me, and finally little Austin and his dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfoqLvBnWI/AAAAAAAAADY/jKfjMyeWP0U/s1600-h/car+trip+w+molly+036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfoqLvBnWI/AAAAAAAAADY/jKfjMyeWP0U/s320/car+trip+w+molly+036.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059768517776219490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look extremely agitated right there. (I've had many worse moments.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-136027853622032592?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/136027853622032592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=136027853622032592&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/136027853622032592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/136027853622032592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/05/old-photos.html' title='-Old Photos-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RjfayLvBnKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/bpi0_oZRr0w/s72-c/car+trip+w+molly+030.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-5459860874175022008</id><published>2007-04-28T21:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T21:37:07.787-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Please visit more often-</title><content type='html'>Hey, &lt;br /&gt;can everybody who has ever been to this blog (and more) visit more often and leave more comments? Because I don't have very many comments, I'm not motivated to post very often. So if you comment there will be more to comment on. Thank You very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, today is Saturday, and I will give you a run down of what I did today. I slept real hard last night so I got up at the late hour of seven o'clock. After eating my raisin bran, I went downstairs to play a helicopter flight simulator game I finally got installed on our family computer (I'm not even going to go into detail about how long it took me yesterday to install the program five times until it worked). Haaaaaaahhhhhhh! Flying the helicopter into buildings at 200 knots got old after a while, then I was assigned the task of cleaning toilets, sweeping floors, moping, mowing etc. In the middle of all that work, Mom called me in to eat salmon spaghetti. More work, including picking up some nasty thorns after me and my dad pruned an over-grown thorn tree, (more like burned it)!  Time jump to eight o'clock IN THE EVENING. I'm sitting here, yes. Bye!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-5459860874175022008?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/5459860874175022008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=5459860874175022008&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5459860874175022008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/5459860874175022008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/04/please-visit-more-often.html' title='-Please visit more often-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-6221523902029823832</id><published>2007-04-18T16:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T16:28:53.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Desktop Cubical Trebuchets-</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;I found a really random advertisment on the internet. This person must really be hard off, he's advertising desktop trebuchets-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the &lt;a href="http://gizmodo.com/gadgets/gadgets/striker-ii-usb-laser-guided-missile-launcher-217162.php"&gt;USB missile launcher&lt;/a&gt; is a little too new-school for you, the &lt;a class="tagautolink" title="Posts tagged as desktop" href="http://gizmodo.com/gadgets/desktop/"&gt;desktop&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a class="tagautolink" title="Posts tagged as trebuchet" href="http://gizmodo.com/gadgets/trebuchet/"&gt;trebuchet&lt;/a&gt; may be the perfect addition to that arsenal of cubical warfare weapons. It is available for $30 and assembly is required.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goodness thats pathetic, and people are buying these things-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Munch420s says:&lt;br /&gt;"I am soooooo getting fired because of that thing. But it will be worth it..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've helped build one of those trebuchets, but who would want to take one to work and get fired?&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess it would be funny, but I don't know that it would be worth losing a job.&lt;br /&gt;See ya!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-6221523902029823832?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/6221523902029823832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=6221523902029823832&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6221523902029823832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6221523902029823832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-found-really-random-advertisment-on.html' title='-Desktop Cubical Trebuchets-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-1613807448728838279</id><published>2007-04-08T19:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:14:05.650-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Long Time No Write-</title><content type='html'>Hey everybody! It has been a while since I have posted and I'am sorry about it, but I've been collecting stories (and I still haven't collected very much)! I have Joined the Springfield Knights Track team. I had my first track meet last Tuesday and I ran the 200 m, 1600 m, and the 4/100 relay. I also threw the discus. Last Wednesday, I got contacts, and I'am loving them much better than my glasses because they can't fall out or get broken. On Friday night and saturday I camped out in the 20 degree weather W/ my friend Zach, started making a series of movies called: Sam and Zach's Camping Adventures. We already have the first episode filmed, but I haven't been able to edit it into a movie yet because I accidentally left the camera at Zach's house. Oops! Oh ya, one more brown recluse confrontation. Sorry got to go, and happy Easter. HE IS RISEN!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-1613807448728838279?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/1613807448728838279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=1613807448728838279&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1613807448728838279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/1613807448728838279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/04/hey-everybody-it-has-been-while-since-i.html' title='-Long Time No Write-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-6291644131697150918</id><published>2007-03-02T10:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:15:32.898-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Ridiculous Writting 2-</title><content type='html'>Here is some more of my writting for your consideration!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams&lt;br /&gt;What would we do in the morning without a dream to tweak and relate to our families? Dreams have been a part of everyone’s sleep since the beginning of time. They have helped mold the world we live in today. Dreams have a historical significance that uniquely affects each and every one of us. Coming in many different types, dreams have a origin in the cerebrum. It is always fun to wake up and share what stupid things we did in our dreams, and to think about what influenced your dreams.&lt;br /&gt;The historical significance of dreams is often overlooked. Do you realize that your salvation depended on the dream that Joseph had concerning King Herod? If Joseph hadn’t taken Jesus to Egypt, Jesus would have been killed, and your sins would never have been saved! Some people have conceived music in their sleep. Over all, the Biblical significance of dreams is God speaking through dreams so that we can further His Kingdom. More time needs to be put toward informing people of the importance of dreams. There are many different types of dreams. Perhaps the most commonly known one is night mares.&lt;br /&gt;Night mares occur when the summit of ones knowledge collides with the pit of his/her fears. Sometimes night mares are not scary, they just leave you with a suggestive feeling that can be worse than just plain scarey. Probably the second most familiar type of dream is flying dreams. One might be impersonating an animal in your flying dream, such as a bat or eagle. Riding dirt-bikes off of a ramp into the un-known is also a good example of flying in a dream. The kind of dream that is most fun to wake up during, or catch somebody doing it, is sleep-walking. One pretty funny example of sleep-walking is that my cousin Amy sleep-walked so hard that she woke up and found herself on her dresser. An even more funny example is when a college student woke up in the middle of the night in her closet with a sock in her mouth! No matter what the kind of dream you are having, try to keep an adventurous spirit, and you might enjoy yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Dreams originate in the cerebrum, which is the part of the human brain that stores all the information the person ever learned, both important and unimportant. God programed our brains so that they chose random information and string it all together in a funny story sequence which is where we get our dreams. If this is true, then if you do or think about some weird things during the day, there is a slight possibility that the snippet of information might influence your dreams! If you spend a lot of time with a certain friend there is a good chance he will be in your dreams, and you and your friend will be doing wacky versions of the stuff you and did during the week. God sure had a sense of humor when He programed our brains to collect unnecessary facts to be used in our dreams.&lt;br /&gt;It’s hard to imagine what we would do without dreams to collect and compare. Sleeping at night would be really bleak if we didn’t have dreams to make the night go faster, or longer depending on how you look at it. Try not to forget the historical importance of dreams, and maybe keep a journal of all the different types and experiences you have in your dreams. Also, don’t forget to think about what influenced your dreams!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-6291644131697150918?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/6291644131697150918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=6291644131697150918&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6291644131697150918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/6291644131697150918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/03/ridiculous-writting-2.html' title='-Ridiculous Writting 2-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7168435536295051467.post-452988968774850962</id><published>2007-02-26T12:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T11:17:13.019-04:00</updated><title type='text'>-Ridiculous Writing-</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RehSx1jPNkI/AAAAAAAAABE/THXFBTR_le0/s1600-h/spoon4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037367199355844162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RehSx1jPNkI/AAAAAAAAABE/THXFBTR_le0/s320/spoon4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cordial greeting my worthy friends! Do you have to write reports in school? I do. Here are some sample essays from my writing class. Our assignment was to pick a random topic that you didn't think had enough information for a whole five-paragraph essay. My topic was spoons! Yes, spoons! It was amazing how much information was in our brains on a simple topic like spoons. See what I mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Origin of Spoons&lt;br /&gt;When ferocious dinosaurs ruled the earth, the cavemen, who were still in hiding, hunted huge wooly mammoths for food. Upon capturing one of these beasts, the cavemen found it hard to scoop up the mammoth blood with only their bare hands. The blood always seeped through their fingers. These desperate cavemen held a huge convention in which the brightest cavemen invented a small wood and bone tool that could help them drink the beloved mammoth blood. The sometimes sturdy tool would later evolve into countless shapes, materials, and could be used for many tasks. Some uses for the primitive tool may not be discovered for another millennium.&lt;br /&gt;In the year 3800 B.C. the cavemen of Pangea united and invented what we now call the ‘spoon’. Spoons gave cavemen the ability to shovel in great amounts of mammoth blood at a time causing the cavemen to micro evolve into much smarter and stronger beings. These men with actual I.Q.’s acquired a hankering for something more though. Giant lizard flesh. Employing the use of very large spoons as catapults an army of cavemen hunted down every single dinosaur on the face of the flat earth in those pre- columbian days. That is why we have no living dinosaurs today only their bones. Cavemen also enjoyed playing games with spoons. Games were apparently very boring after a couple hundred years because we have no records of them to this day. We can give credit to the cavemen for inventing a common household object that has so many uses.&lt;br /&gt;Spoons have many different characteristics that help make our lives what they are today. Keeping us clean when we eat soup is one thing the spoon can do that we take for granted. However spoons are not useful when left at the house while you are camping. Spoons are also very efficient because one is able to eat everything that the spoon picks up. Spoons in general all have drawback. Under vigorous use spoons have the potential to bend. Some less common problems might be getting a spoon caught in the garbage disposal or choking on a spoon. All in all, the pros out weigh the cons making the spoon one of the most convenient inventions from pre-historic times.&lt;br /&gt;Many different materials can be used to make spoons, but some are used in different types of spoons. Wood, bone, plastic, metal, and ivory, are only a few of the materials that can make spoons. While wood, bone, and ivory spoons are for decorative purposes, spoons made of metal and plastic are more practical for every day use. There are also many different spoons for different tasks. For instance, normal types of spoons are perfect for measuring small amounts of liquid, while fancy mother-of-pearl spoons can be collector’s items. Large wooden spoons can stir soup and also double as a spanking paddle. Whether used for stirring or spanking, all spoons have the familiar round mouth-piece and handle.&lt;br /&gt;Although the cavemen invented the spoon, it probably would not have affected us very much in the twenty-first century if they hadn’t, because scientists probably would have discovered spoons by now. It is fortunate that the cave-men were able to use spoons in all their types, materials, and conveniences back in their day, to drink the mammoth blood. The spoon also helped the cavemen to make the dinosaurs extinct so that we don’t have to worry about them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7168435536295051467-452988968774850962?l=venividivulture.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/feeds/452988968774850962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7168435536295051467&amp;postID=452988968774850962&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/452988968774850962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7168435536295051467/posts/default/452988968774850962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://venividivulture.blogspot.com/2007/02/ridiculous-writing.html' title='-Ridiculous Writing-'/><author><name>{{That One Guy}}</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04877893681261172266</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/SFlP58Pil9I/AAAAAAAAAGw/XbJbtlYbHMU/S220/HPIM9718.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXBTLKfZRDs/RehSx1jPNkI/AAAAAAAAABE/THXFBTR_le0/s72-c/spoon4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
