<?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-4242768548160515137</id><updated>2011-08-23T05:34:07.102-07:00</updated><category term='Journal entry'/><title type='text'>The Great Plan Of Happiness</title><subtitle type='html'>This Blog simply reflects my opinions. Which happen to be mostly right.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-7197757456121197769</id><published>2007-11-11T07:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T10:39:44.458-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ATTENTION</title><content type='html'>CLICK &lt;a href="http://www.bitterbarn.wordpress.com/"&gt;HERE &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New site is at &lt;a href="http://www.bitterbarn.wordpress.com/"&gt;www.bitterbarn.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.bitterbarn.wordpress.com"&gt;MOVED&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-7197757456121197769?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/7197757456121197769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=7197757456121197769&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7197757456121197769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7197757456121197769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/11/attention.html' title='ATTENTION'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-7713706789994503022</id><published>2007-11-10T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T11:40:31.987-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brin's photo shoot</title><content type='html'>Well, Our new IMAC has a nifty little camera built into the screen.  "the B" found it and figured out how to use it. She acted alone. When I got home from work her mug was all over my desktop. for all the embarassment she has given me ie church and movies. You know what they say "paybacks a...   cinch"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xtmmPK-R1-o"&gt;  &lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xtmmPK-R1-o" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;  &lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-7713706789994503022?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/7713706789994503022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=7713706789994503022&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7713706789994503022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7713706789994503022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/11/brins-photo-shoot.html' title='Brin&apos;s photo shoot'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-4598426023202964416</id><published>2007-11-10T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T07:25:21.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-Aggrandizment</title><content type='html'>       &lt;a href="http://www.kcbd.com/global/story.asp?s=7339030"&gt;Aqua-dots and ME:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   Well,  here's another toy re-call.  I should have known by the menacing name: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aqua dots.  &lt;/span&gt;Perhaps china has decided the fastest way to destroy a country is through there toys. I don't blame china though, of course;   This is Capitol ism strikes again. (I reserve the right to spell capitalism however I want)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;      So there you are a fly on the wall in  a cooperate meeting at (Whose Your Daddy toy manufacturing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;company&lt;/span&gt;) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;WYD&lt;/span&gt;.  One of the junior &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;executives&lt;/span&gt; brings to light that one of the toys &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WYD&lt;/span&gt;  is about to release my be laced with date rape drug &lt;a href="http://www.projectghb.org/what_is_ghb.htm"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;GHB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  The executives then talk amongst themselves about the cost of putting real glue in the toy rather than said &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;date rape drug.  They do a quick cost/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;benefit&lt;/span&gt; analysis and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;vwala&lt;/span&gt;.  They apparently determine that it is not cost effective to produce a child-safe product and release it to the masses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;           Why the title.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;heh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;heh&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   We got a guy at work who really wants to be promoted so he went to then newspapers and had an article done about how great his boss is so he could get said promotion.   So it gave me ideas and well; now I am on the news.  This blog isn't really funny is it?  I'll go have a cream soda and hope for the best on the next one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-4598426023202964416?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/4598426023202964416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=4598426023202964416&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/4598426023202964416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/4598426023202964416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/11/self-aggrandizment.html' title='Self-Aggrandizment'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-3299353178205887096</id><published>2007-11-10T05:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T06:09:40.607-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Data is in</title><content type='html'>      To use a &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&amp;amp;rls=en-us&amp;amp;q=steven+colbert&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;oe=UTF-8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;steveninsm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Americans&lt;/span&gt; agree".  Over the past 10 days Americans have voted about there fear of flying.  Statisticians have "massaged the numbers".  After a 5 tailed double blind study &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;involving&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;actual&lt;/span&gt; Americans. We can say our data is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;statistically&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;significant&lt;/span&gt; and Americans are a afraid to fly.  I am glad I am not alone.  And now on to more pressing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bloginess(Tm)&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-3299353178205887096?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/3299353178205887096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=3299353178205887096&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/3299353178205887096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/3299353178205887096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/11/data-is-in.html' title='The Data is in'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-7521646622952601939</id><published>2007-11-01T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T08:03:52.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AIRLINES  COME-UPINS</title><content type='html'>I would just like to go on record one more time. Air travel is not as safe as we think it is. Not that I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; trust the science; I Don't trust Science in the hands of capitalism. (I probably came to this paradigm by working in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;health care&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt;, NASA is withholding/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;delaying&lt;/span&gt; the release of an &lt;a href="http://www.nasawatch.com/archives/2007/10/why_is_nasa_sit.html"&gt;airline &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;safety&lt;/span&gt; report&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is my favorite quote.&lt;br /&gt;According to a report out of Washington, NASA wants to avoid telling you about how unsafe you are when you fly. According to the article, when an $8.5M safety study of about 24,000 pilots indicated an alarming number of near collisions and runway incidents, NASA refused to release the results. The article quotes one congressman as saying 'There is a faint odor about it all.' A friend of mine who is a general aviation pilot responded to the article by saying 'It's scary but no surprise to those of us who fly.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near mid-air &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;collisions&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;a href="http://www.2news.tv/news/local/10725951.html"&gt;Twice as many bird hits?&lt;/a&gt; people say to me all the time "When was the last time you heard of an airplane crash? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;oop&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://en.wikinews.org/wiki/American_Airlines_MD-80_engine_fire_prompts_emergency_landing"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;here's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; one 2 months ago. so it didn't crash but whats the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;difference&lt;/span&gt; really? The luck of a sober pilot?&lt;br /&gt;When I walk down the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Jetway&lt;/span&gt;, When I am about to set foot on "The beast" I always think about my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;mortality&lt;/span&gt;. I may not be outwardly fearful of getting on the plane. I don't usually think "today is the day I die" no no no.. but I do consider my mortality. I consider the risk.&lt;br /&gt;please answer the poll.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-7521646622952601939?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/7521646622952601939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=7521646622952601939&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7521646622952601939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7521646622952601939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/11/airlines-come-upins.html' title='AIRLINES  COME-UPINS'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-9214585853302461537</id><published>2007-10-24T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T13:00:16.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanut Butter and Jelly</title><content type='html'>This is my favorite group "Inside Out" and I cant get this song out of my head.. enjoy.. click on little blue arrow&lt;br /&gt;cool eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://images.del.icio.us/static/js/playtagger.js"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;  &lt;a href="http://staleybrinley.googlepages.com/PeanutButterandJellyshorty.mp3"&gt;Listen&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-9214585853302461537?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/9214585853302461537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=9214585853302461537&amp;isPopup=true' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/9214585853302461537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/9214585853302461537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/10/httpstaleybrinley_24.html' title='Peanut Butter and Jelly'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-5610904785378282985</id><published>2007-10-23T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T12:33:24.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I am a Donkey</title><content type='html'>I have always said I was a Republican. I've never even really known the fundamental difference between the two. In my Mormon mind one party was "bad" and the other "good"; like black and white, pretty and ugly, fat and skinny. I know one party is in favor of abortion and the other largely is pro-life. This is the premise by which I have based my political affiliation? I guess growing up LDS in Salt Lake City one need not be educated, but simply think and do what everyone else does.&lt;br /&gt;Well I'll tell ya. I now have an Opinion about one thing. Big business, I am not sure what that title really entails but I am tired of large corporations making me settle for poor service and bad product. And this, I'm told is the fault of a Republican government. There is a flow chart in my mind that goes like this. Republican Government gives tax breaks to large corporations in the name of economic prosperity (and votes). Large corporations succeed. Large corporations stamp out the competition (I thought this was monopoly). Here's the kicker. Large corporations only have to produce as much service or product that keeps them in business.&lt;br /&gt;Example: Large Fancy Grocery store (LFG) opens up near you. You try it out. You like it because they have the appropriate number of checkers and you don't wait in line. So... you go back. LFG succeeds due to your patronism and Government tax breaks. The place you used to go, goes out of business. LFG now scales down the service, you wait in line forever, prices go up (some) and there are under-developed little girls selling you raffle tickets in the doorway.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Republicans and Capitalism. So everywhere we go we suffer with the poor service and bad product. An MBA Student recently confided in me that this is actually the plan. "The market will dictate the amount of service they must provide, if you don't like it you can go somewhere else" he said. Well, the somewhere else went out of business and now I would have to drive clear across town. :( :( So I hate this system. What ever you call it. Or whom ever you want to blame it on. But now everywhere I go I see business owners getting away with "just enough" to keep them in business. The health care system is riddled with this mentality. Airlines. bah.. I am gonna stop now... at least this gets the tampon of the front page.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-5610904785378282985?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/5610904785378282985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=5610904785378282985&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/5610904785378282985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/5610904785378282985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/10/maybe-i-am-donkey.html' title='Maybe I am a Donkey'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-2773024819745002858</id><published>2007-10-13T06:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-13T09:37:26.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You can't make this stuff up!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/RxDOHsr9UoI/AAAAAAAAABc/n2k6r4idEOQ/s1600-h/white+mouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120819407970194050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/RxDOHsr9UoI/AAAAAAAAABc/n2k6r4idEOQ/s200/white+mouse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have wanted to post this story for a few weeks. I have been lost in quandary over how best to tactfully write it; But, the story itself is devoid of tact. Can you write tampon on the Internet? Well, here goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know a lady who teaches aerobics. One morning as she was in the midst of teaching a full class of cardiac fiends (including the principle at her daughters school and 3 male participants) at 0530 AM. The Accessory One Wears While Menstruating (AOWWM) became dislodged from its primary place of purpose. fortunately my friend was wearing long Capri style pants while she taught that morning. However as she could feel the AOWWM begin to move south down her pant leg, she decided she could no longer ignore it. Leaving her class in mid "grapevine-to-the-left", she said she'd be right back and ran across the gym to the door, down the stairs and to the restroom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once she made it to the restroom she couldn't find it. Right, she couldn't find it. The AOWWM wasn't in her pants. Where was it? She quickly re-traced her steps back to the gym. She had hoped the unsightly object would be found on a step or just outside the restroom. She made it all the way back to the gym where her class was dutifully engaged in the routine (as best they could remember) &lt;strong&gt;AND THERE IT WAS&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the middle of the gym, in the middle of the class, on the floor; sat a bright red heme filled cotton bullet, with a tail. Easily mistaken for a little red mouse with a white tail, the class participants stayed perfectly instep with their head and eyes straight ahead. They pretended they didn't even see her as she walked nonchalantly to the item and picked it up. She quickly disposed of the item in a trash receptacle and went back to teaching the class.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When this story was told to me I was literally rolling on the floor laughing. And the funniest part to me was when she said, "none of this would have happened if I had just worn some panties". eh? no underwear? Well, I won't pretend to even have a clue as to why it's desirable to wear a thong or nothing at all when your a women (something about the wrinkles I gather) but.... there ya go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-2773024819745002858?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/2773024819745002858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=2773024819745002858&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/2773024819745002858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/2773024819745002858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/10/you-cant-make-this-stuff-up.html' title='You can&apos;t make this stuff up!!!!'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/RxDOHsr9UoI/AAAAAAAAABc/n2k6r4idEOQ/s72-c/white+mouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-3782910106959361459</id><published>2007-10-11T16:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T16:38:11.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'>By Way of Blog Bizzness</title><content type='html'>A Note&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Dear Readership:&lt;br /&gt;       Welcome to my blog.  I started my blog because I have things to say and stories to tell.  Story telling is a long standing family tradition.  We have tapes from generations  past in which uncles and Aunts would tell stories of their childhood.   My  stories are all funny and some drastically embellished to some degree.  But hey, If Dan Rather can do it I figure what the heck.  As for the title "The Great Plan of Happiness"  its really a reference that Mormons "get".  It refers to the real meaning of all things; The,   Why we're here, Where we are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;goingness&lt;/span&gt; of it all.         &lt;br /&gt;      Its a Joke, its like taking a look at the nutty things in our life and saying "what if this is as good as it gets".&lt;br /&gt;     Anyway the things I write are just my opinions and my mother would like to add that she does not condone or endorse the things I write for public &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;consumption&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;   A word about my spelling and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;grammar&lt;/span&gt;.  We live in an age of lost arts.  My favorite casualty is that being the art of spelling.  I will say that most people can not spell. &lt;br /&gt;     Why do you think physicians have such bad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;handwriting&lt;/span&gt;.  It is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;widely&lt;/span&gt; excepted that if you  just put down the first 3 letters and scribble the rest everyone should get it.&lt;br /&gt;   with the advent of spell check I can blame any spelling errors on spell check and as for my punctuation lets face it.  If I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what punctuation to use... here comes a semicolon.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; then,, Ive said it.  oh and by the way  the comments are now set to anyone so anyone can post a comment but if you flame me I'll erase you&lt;br /&gt;      The Bull&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-3782910106959361459?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/3782910106959361459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=3782910106959361459&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/3782910106959361459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/3782910106959361459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/10/by-way-of-blog-bizzness.html' title='By Way of Blog Bizzness'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-2044417757216290521</id><published>2007-10-05T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T17:10:21.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm no wierdo... Promise</title><content type='html'>I am an awful passenger on an airplane. When I say awful I mean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; afraid, very afraid. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; certain that my ultimate demise will come in the form of falling out of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fuselage&lt;/span&gt; at 40 thousand feet and not in the form of a double bacon &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cheeseburger&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Today I was forced to fly from Lubbock Texas to Salt Lake City Utah. I have recently been using a self soothing tactic to make it through the flights without soiling myself. I have found that if I simply strike up a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt; with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pseudo&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;psychotherapist&lt;/span&gt; sitting next to me on every flight, we will talk and talk and before I know it the flight is over. This technique has been working fabulously &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;until&lt;/span&gt; today. On the third leg of my travels I was late to get on the plane and ended up in the only seat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;available&lt;/span&gt; near the back of the plane next to two 13 year old girls.&lt;br /&gt;As the plane began to taxi I knew I better think of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; to talk to 2 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;adolescent&lt;/span&gt; girls about before the death trap took off. I felt quite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt;. Everyone knows that middle aged white men are not allowed to sit next to 13 year old girls let alone talk to them. I noticed that one of them had a french &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;manicure&lt;/span&gt; only the part that is usually white was purple and glittery perfect conversation starter I thought. "no, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; lame" I thought. When the pilot said we were clear for take off I panicked and said " purple eh"? They both turned slowly to look at me "purple what"? "your nails, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; cute". ever heard the expression; Better to remain silent and thought a dirty old man than to speak up and remove all doubt. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Isn't&lt;/span&gt; that how it goes?&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;pondered&lt;/span&gt; my next move and finally decided to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;clarify&lt;/span&gt; just what I was doing. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; not a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;weirdo&lt;/span&gt;" I said. "I just like to talk to people so it makes the flight go faster". They were clearly unimpressed and unconvinced. We sat in silence mostly, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;occasionally&lt;/span&gt; they would through me a charity question; like, So are you from Salt Lake?, or How bout' them peanuts?&lt;br /&gt;Long story short; When we got to Salt Lake and began to make our "initial descent". The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;pilot&lt;/span&gt; came on and said "there are some thick clouds so everyone get ready for a bumpy ride, attendants please secure the cabin for landing". The attendants did not even have time to find their seats when there was a huge bump and the pilot said in a strange &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;staccato&lt;/span&gt; like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;rhythm&lt;/span&gt; " attendants take your seats". Just then the two attendants I could see, sat right down in the isle and held on to arm rests on both sides. It was like a drill they had practiced before, when they heard those words. So,, near &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;pandemonium&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;ensues&lt;/span&gt;, mostly from me of course. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Seriously&lt;/span&gt; the plane was like all over the place. I knew this was the end. I was grasping for anything I could hold onto and basically freaking out. When the pilots regained &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;controle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; of the plane the girls looked at me calmly and I could almost hear them say " yeah.... your no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;weirdo&lt;/span&gt; are you".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-2044417757216290521?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/2044417757216290521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=2044417757216290521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/2044417757216290521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/2044417757216290521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/10/iam-no-wierdo-promise.html' title='I&apos;m no wierdo... Promise'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-7548371083360482472</id><published>2007-09-23T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T18:53:50.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"MUMs"; The Word...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl1D1f8hLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/8npLffNYTYE/s1600-h/2-odessa-girls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114247560617034930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl1D1f8hLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/8npLffNYTYE/s200/2-odessa-girls.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who ever said "keep Austin weird" should have realized the impact. The Great State of Texas &lt;hat&gt;has proven new heights of weirdness to me.&lt;br /&gt;Remember when you were in high school. You would awkwardly ask only the girl you were sure would say yes to the homecoming dance. You would dress up, Buy a corsage and do your best not to disgust your date at the dinner table. I remember homecoming as being the first time I ever tied my own tie. In Texas they've taken it to a whole new level of awkward. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When a young man asks a girl out in Texas he must make a sizable withdrawal from his daddies bank account to buy a chrysanthemum. The bigger and more ornate said chrysanthemum is; the more prestigious. Girls contend one with another to see who has the most ornate and gody flower pinned to their &lt;a href="http://www.humanflowerproject.com/index.php/weblog/homecoming_mum_the_riot_on_your_chest/"&gt;body&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was a kid we simply placed corsages on the unsuspecting girls bosom and if your a real chicken you can just giver her one for here wrist. I was so afraid of my homecoming date I didn't even touch her during the picture. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I am an old fuddy duddy but I just don't get it. You go out and spend a couple hundred bucks on a dress and pin &lt;a href="http://www.mumsandgarters.com/pictures.htm"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; to it. Call me crazy but just how far is this... from this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl9jFf8hNI/AAAAAAAAABM/m758D_DWi_M/s1600-h/mum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114256893580969170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl9jFf8hNI/AAAAAAAAABM/m758D_DWi_M/s200/mum.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl94Ff8hOI/AAAAAAAAABU/IEEgngOPR9g/s1600-h/blue+ribbon+pig.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114257254358222050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl94Ff8hOI/AAAAAAAAABU/IEEgngOPR9g/s200/blue+ribbon+pig.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-7548371083360482472?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/7548371083360482472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=7548371083360482472&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7548371083360482472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7548371083360482472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/mums-word.html' title='&quot;MUMs&quot;; The Word...'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lQcqXe0ibw/Rvl1D1f8hLI/AAAAAAAAAA8/8npLffNYTYE/s72-c/2-odessa-girls.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-4170874325783811967</id><published>2007-09-19T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T14:19:02.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Going Natural"</title><content type='html'>At this point in my otherwise worthless blog I think I should give some advise. This is my contribution to society.&lt;br /&gt;What is going natural? At my job (not the red light district) its what happens when a woman has the gal to have a baby without any sensory altering intervention. To those who would "go natural" or think going natural might be the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thang&lt;/span&gt; for them, here are some pearls.&lt;br /&gt;first, if your plan to "go natural" you must plan for it. You need to ask yourself; "self, what am I gonna do when Squeezing a 7 pound water melon out my back-side starts to gasp... hurt". You should plan some relaxation techniques that involve focusing on a certain point, breathing and concentration.&lt;br /&gt;In the thousands of epidurals I have placed in the middle of the night I have come to determine that unless you are extremely committed to the cause and you wish for pain to befall you, unless you have a plan to make it. you will in no wise "go natural".&lt;br /&gt;Many women wish for no such thing, some in fact would take an epidural in the back somewhere around 30 weeks if it was allowable. These people usually get their epidurals early and subsequently safely before any transition labor pain is felt. This is a great way to go. you can get your epidural while you can still sit still. The converse is usually not true.&lt;br /&gt;If you are one who are of this ilk. " I am gonna see how far I can get and if I absolutely can not make it then I will have an epidural". This might work out for some but by and large this is a bad idea. When labor hits "ludicrous pain" and you finally succumb to the epidural, you will be hard pressed to A) answer the questions necessary for you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-epidural assessment and sign the consent form and B) find it almost impossible to sit still during the horrific contractions. This is Never a pretty picture. I think some women avoid getting an epidural because they fear the placement of such. Will it be painful? only the first part when the skin is "numbed" &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;a little poke and a burn. After this usually no sharp pain is felt at all, just some pressure and pushing&lt;/span&gt;. (&lt;em&gt;isn't this what you felt when this all started anyway&lt;/em&gt;) Occasionally some will feel a little zing down one leg which is temporary and usually benign.&lt;br /&gt;So unless you are a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;glutton&lt;/span&gt; for pain. Unless you are one who wants to the feel the real meaning of woman/mother hood in you loins to the extent that rivals those picking rice in a field or early &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Neanderthal&lt;/span&gt; labor pain; I suggest an epidural and the earlier the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. My wife &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ardors&lt;/span&gt; pain she "went &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;natural&lt;/span&gt;" 4 times. And besides, shes married to me isn't she.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-4170874325783811967?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/4170874325783811967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=4170874325783811967&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/4170874325783811967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/4170874325783811967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/going-natural.html' title='&quot;Going Natural&quot;'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-2981135919640053040</id><published>2007-09-15T06:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T09:42:43.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hairspray Recuperation</title><content type='html'>I've been watching all 4 of my children whilst my wife is on sabbatical, its been a week and there is respite in site. She gets home tonight. They are young, all under 6 years old, the youngest being one. I can hardly see how their being "young" is any reason for them to act like gremlins. My plan has been just to stay in the house and throw food at them and change the TV station ever so often to keep them within its tractor beam. Well, Yesterday They began to become desensitized to the effect of Noggin television and began to talk to me. I figured we all needed to get out of the house to see if there was still a sun in the sky. The Plan: load them up and take them to the 4:15 showing of Hairspray. We made it to the theatre, I bought the tickets while the four year old corralled the two year old and kept constant back pressure on her arm to keep her from darting out into the parking lot. Much to my dismay/delight some nice, older, respected folks from our church turned up and we discovered we were going to the same movie.&lt;br /&gt;Keeping with my "throw food at them" technique I stopped by concessions to buy some popcorn, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;twizzlers&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kitcat&lt;/span&gt; one large SPRITE for them and one large DR. Pepper for me. (light substance abuse is my key to happiness) The gentlemen we knew from the ward could tell I had my hands full and offered to carry the libations to the theatre while I herded the children in the same direction.&lt;br /&gt;There was nobody in the theatre and the previews were going. Perfect, I thought If my kids talk a little there wont be anyone to annoy other than the couple behind us from church; and since they've seen us at church they'll know what to expect :). The kids made it through the previews. About five minutes into the movie I looked down my row and congratulated myself on mission accomplished. Three girls all sat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mesmerized;&lt;/span&gt; popcorn and sucking on licorice with an occasional sip of the communal sprite. My son, the 1 year old was on my lap calm as could be, watching the movie. I had made it to Nirvana.&lt;br /&gt;A group of about 10 teenage girls walked in to the move just as it was starting and took there seats directly in front of us.&lt;br /&gt;I must have become &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;temporarily&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;complacent&lt;/span&gt; as the next thing i knew I looked down and my son was sipping on my Dr. Pepper. Oh dear, I thought he might have trouble getting to sleep tonight. At least he was happy. five minutes later he lost his mind. He was standing on my knees bobbing up and down, jamming out to the music in the movie. Then he was down walking in the isle High &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Fiving&lt;/span&gt; each of his sisters on his way to the end of the row. Now he is on the stairs crawling up to the top of the stairs and back down, then back up and back down again, and again, and... again. well at least hes not bugging anyone. He poorly negotiated one step &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;coming&lt;/span&gt; down and tumbled a few levels. He cried so I went and got him and took him to the door way to calm him down. Now that I have left the isle, the girls have decided to follow their brothers example of climbing up and down the stairs. My son wanted down so he could go party some more so he payed a visit to the teenage girls sitting in front of us and they humored him by cooing and saying high as he crawled (on the floor) down their row. At this point my two year old picked up the large cup o sprite and dropped it on the floor spraying sprite all over the unsuspecting girls in front of us. I exclaimed my apologies, grabbed the two year old (now crying) and reached over the seats and picked up the one year old who had clearly deposited a stool sample in his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;britches&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I was now rather &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; as the couple from our ward sat like statues trying to pretend they didn't notice the mayhem. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;They've&lt;/span&gt; seen this at church so their used to it.&lt;br /&gt;I took the kids, through them in the car and squealed the tires as we left. All the kids went to bed at 6:30 right when we got home. I am still trying to recuperated from my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;enjoyable&lt;/span&gt; day with my kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-2981135919640053040?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/2981135919640053040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=2981135919640053040&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/2981135919640053040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/2981135919640053040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/hairspray-recuperation.html' title='Hairspray Recuperation'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-791809674632661480</id><published>2007-09-13T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T13:00:38.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of a Hurricaine</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Watching&lt;/span&gt; the news; and seeing the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; news reminded me of the last time I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;accosted&lt;/span&gt; by a disturbing piece of weather.  August 2005  we had been invited to go with my parents to a luxurious resort in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;playa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;del&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;carmen&lt;/span&gt;.  They had gotten a once in a life time offer to stay at the resort.  A &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ridiculously&lt;/span&gt; low price for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;accommodation&lt;/span&gt; had us packing our bags.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ninety&lt;/span&gt; dollars for a week of sun, beach and buffets was just the carrot we needed to drag our then family of 5 to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Mexico&lt;/span&gt; in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;height&lt;/span&gt; of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; season.  In hind site maybe the price and season where evenly matched though I've never confirmed it.&lt;br /&gt;   So we set off in search of our nirvana in full knowledge of a brewing hurricane &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Wilma&lt;/span&gt;.  Far too excited to give any &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;credence&lt;/span&gt; to a brewing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Wilma&lt;/span&gt; that was days away anyway; We arrived and enjoyed our first day sitting by the pool, getting massages, braiding our hair, drinking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;pina&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;coladas&lt;/span&gt; and dancing.  It was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; going to be one of the most relaxing vacations I had ever taken despite having three small children with us.&lt;br /&gt;    The buzz about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Wilma&lt;/span&gt; began to be more apparent anytime we went anywhere that had a TV.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; had whipped itself into the largest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; in the history of the gulf.  The weather mans &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;for casted&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;trajectory&lt;/span&gt; had the eye of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;literally&lt;/span&gt; hitting our beach in the next day or two.  Of course we took this to be hog-wash, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; everyone know that the hurricane will turn and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; miss us.&lt;br /&gt;    Later that night the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;hospital&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;delivered&lt;/span&gt; a message,  a warning really, that they expected the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;hurricane&lt;/span&gt; to indeed hit the resort and the local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;government&lt;/span&gt; was encouraging all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;foreigners&lt;/span&gt; to fly home right away. we  drove inland and had the most authentic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;Mexican&lt;/span&gt; vacation ever. I am no longer a fan of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;hurricanes&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-791809674632661480?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/791809674632661480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=791809674632661480&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/791809674632661480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/791809674632661480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/memories-of-hurricaine.html' title='Memories of a Hurricaine'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-3258270912270052470</id><published>2007-09-09T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T08:28:14.055-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Journal entry'/><title type='text'>Game Day 9/8/2007</title><content type='html'>Lets see yesterday was game day. We put out all eight of our Texas Tech flags. Tech was awful in the first half the defensive secondary looked like a one armed man in a paper hangging contest, Tech did pull it out though by the end. I came home and watched the BYU game that I recorded on DVR(its faster to watch that way) BYU lost but actually looked good I like this Hall kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-3258270912270052470?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/3258270912270052470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=3258270912270052470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/3258270912270052470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/3258270912270052470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/game-day-982007.html' title='Game Day 9/8/2007'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-7797887492622631651</id><published>2007-09-08T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-08T13:00:45.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Balloon Day</title><content type='html'>There having a Balloon... rally, or... festival or whatever they call them when a bunch of hot air balloon enthusiasts get together to show off their wares; here in Lubbock. So we being the "hot air balloon enthusiasts" we are, got up at 0530 this morning to go watch them "launch". I have to say it was pretty cool. There was rumor of a Storm brewing which delayed the launch by about an hour. Once the balloons got out of their various colorful trailers and out onto Terra firma there was plenty of action that kept us all entertained. I was amazed at how the balloons could almost control where they were going. it seemed, that by varring altitudes pilots could navigate the balloons to drift away and then com back to the spot from which they launched. Anyway, if you here of a Balloon launch near you I suggest you go check it out. Like my 4 year old says, "its always good to try new things". (we may need to amend that later in life)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-7797887492622631651?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/7797887492622631651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=7797887492622631651&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7797887492622631651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/7797887492622631651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/balloon-day.html' title='Balloon Day'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4242768548160515137.post-1188055301437636534</id><published>2007-09-03T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T15:11:40.402-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That's some bra...</title><content type='html'>I have three brothers.  I now know that in my youth I was protected.  From what?  From the monster that is Women's Wonderment.  I have been married for about nine years now and constantly find myself amazed.  The ritual that my wife goes through to make herself "presentable" to the world is; at best a great sacrifice for the sake of beauty and at worst a costly racket that has ensnared humanity with its sweet smells and voluptuous curves.&lt;br /&gt;     I have maybe a handful of toiletry items while my wife has an enumerable menagerie of trinkets and charms used to turn her into a siren who's beauty and aroma one cannot escape.  Her vanity a virtual cornucopia of hair product, hair crafting product, lotions, perfumes, elastics, "pony tail holders", tweezers, waxers, shavers, smoothers, tampers, buffers and the like.  While I have what I've always had; a razor, a toothbrush and  well I am bald now so that's all.&lt;br /&gt;     My most recent education in the field came from a trip to Victoria's Secret.  My wife and I were at the mall planning what we would wear to the most recent family wedding.  The Wedding of my Brother O.J.  My wife made it known that she needed a new bra.  Having just spent the past 7 years nursing our four children, I thought it a most reasonable request.  We walked into Victoria's Secret and proceeded to try on Bra's. (not me... though I could use one).  She picked out two of her favorite, the picking of which involves size, color, feel and what I can only describe as "degree of lift".  I of course was mostly disinterested in the picking of bra's and found myself wondering around the store staring at the mannequins who modeled the various  Scintillating unmentionables.  After what I would consider a long time if I was picking out underwear.   We met at the checkout counter.  I am only needed for the payment.  The Clerk told me the total was 85.00$.  That's right eighty five dollars.  Two bra's, the big daddy bra was 45.00$.  So let me make this clear forty five dollars for one bra.  The things we could buy for 45 bucks swam through my head.  I am no cheapskate... really, some would say in fact that I am quite the opposite. That I make purchases without "due diligence".   But come on, ITS A BRA!!!!  In my opinion a 45 dollar bra better do the dishes by itself.&lt;br /&gt;     At any rate I am mostly over it now.  But still when I see women in public places. I now find myself wondering how much they spent on their underpants (bras).  And, when I take my wife out on the town I get an overwhelming erg to proclaim to passers by the magnificence of my wife's underwear. let it be known to all that, "that's some bra."  Consider your self warned O.J.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4242768548160515137-1188055301437636534?l=bitterbarn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/feeds/1188055301437636534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4242768548160515137&amp;postID=1188055301437636534&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/1188055301437636534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4242768548160515137/posts/default/1188055301437636534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitterbarn.blogspot.com/2007/09/thats-some-bra.html' title='That&apos;s some bra...'/><author><name>Matt "The Bull"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03520308201467435896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
