<?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-8610390087527791110</id><updated>2011-09-29T12:48:42.774-07:00</updated><category term='teh past'/><category term='Mixing meds'/><category term='WoW'/><category term='tired'/><category term='history'/><category term='Stuff I only care about'/><category term='the crap I put up with'/><category term='Smoking'/><category term='It never hurts to help'/><category term='Blatherings'/><category term='Ghosts'/><category term='Pet peeves'/><category term='holy roller'/><category term='WTF?'/><category term='work'/><category term='iMac'/><category term='whine'/><category term='cause thats how I roll'/><title type='text'>Adventures of Bagel Boy</title><subtitle type='html'>Attemting world dominatin since 1965 With his minions at the ready he will do battle for the great unwashed of this world!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4883738729349522997</id><published>2010-02-10T23:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T23:18:26.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Only God and the Irvine Company can make a forest</title><content type='html'>I have come in out of the cold. I have started to reach out to some of my old friends, the ones I let slip away. Oh, don’t get me wrong, they let me slip away as well, but this is me and how I feel about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now most of these friends I never did anything really wrong to. Oh sure pull a prank, yell at each other, drive each other nuts etc. But really never did anything to hurt them, seems I saved that for my friends who stayed around longer. But that is a different story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for these old friends, well I will introduce you to them. By far the person I have know the longest was a sports fan. And I mean any sport, he was well versed in all of them. I was most passionate about the Angels baseball team, and the LA Lakers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On those warm summer evenings when we would happen to have a few bucks we would head out to Angel Stadium and catch a game, hell we would spend more on beer than we would on the seats but we watched the game from the third beck as if we were on the base line. We would yell and cheer the good calls and great plays by our team, boo the bad calls and the other teams good plays. My friend would site the rule the ump was screwing up in the call. It was glorious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hung out a lot, he was like the older brother I had. Well I had an older brother but he did not want the job so yeah, go figure. We saw movies, we had parties, we talked. Rarely did I go over to his looking for him, nor did he come looking for me. But we would find each other hanging out at our “spots” and join one another in hanging out. Now after we would meet, well then we could go to some ones house and get them up and going. But very rarely did we do it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was also the first one of my friends to get a car, well he was 21 oh and he co0uld buy alcohol.  Now at a time or two he started to feel like that was the only reason we all hung around with him. So he would put his foot down and not buy. That was fine, so we did not drink, or found another way to get a hold of it. I could see his point in these cases and like I said I was fine with it. Some of my other friends were not so easy, but they became friends of Bill W so I think it was the booze talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any way he had this wagon that was oh so out of date but it ran, I mean always ran. It was never down, he would hear a noise and boom hood would be up and he would be just looking for the issue. And BOOM! Fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that is how my oldest friend is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4883738729349522997?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4883738729349522997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/only-god-and-irvine-company-can-make.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4883738729349522997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4883738729349522997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/only-god-and-irvine-company-can-make.html' title='Only God and the Irvine Company can make a forest'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8969551560120542905</id><published>2010-02-08T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T23:08:42.479-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lawrence Welk never worried, why should I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/S3EJ5PERT7I/AAAAAAAAAEA/oQ6wcNstPvE/s1600-h/Lawrence+Welk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" kt="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/S3EJ5PERT7I/AAAAAAAAAEA/oQ6wcNstPvE/s320/Lawrence+Welk.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did something this week end I have never done before, I worried about work. Hell it made me not want to sleep. It was really sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never worry about work, until now. And it bugs the hell out of me. My wife even noticed it. She kept after me what’s wrong, what’s wrong. Drove me insane to be honest, but she thought I was upset with her, which I am/was not. That started me wondering what kind of ass I am, when my wife always thinks I am mad at her, and here I am still working on being nice/pleasant. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other good news I have heard exactly zero back from the people I sent my resume out to. But I keep trying, sooner or later one will make the mistake of calling me for an interview, then watch out cause I will be bringing my A game, you know the one with the wry smile, eager to please eyes. Along with the acerbic wit and the you really want to hire me aura, oh then you will be mine other job! YOU WILL BE MINE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was that over the top? Sometimes it gets hard to tell. And the next thing you know I am dressing up with a cape and planning word domination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s it for me today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8969551560120542905?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8969551560120542905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/lawrence-welk-never-worried-why-should.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8969551560120542905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8969551560120542905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/lawrence-welk-never-worried-why-should.html' title='Lawrence Welk never worried, why should I?'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/S3EJ5PERT7I/AAAAAAAAAEA/oQ6wcNstPvE/s72-c/Lawrence+Welk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3630206376562139741</id><published>2010-02-05T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T20:07:27.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I broke awesome...</title><content type='html'>I hate working o Fridays for one reason, I will get home around 330am so that wrecks all of Saturday, Sunday come and wipes me out again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little boss was going to cancel my vacation because his wife needs surgery. I would not have argued, but my vacation does not start until the 15, her surgery is the 10. He got the weeks messed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big boss wants me to figure out how the roof is leaking, no puddle anywhere in the area on top. We did install new lights in the area so I figure since the area hardly ever gets walked on the weight of the installer must have flexed an old tape joint until it broke. This let the water being held in the insulation to flow down and out. But he wants me to look into it more, and if I figure out why I will get a better review.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I really need a new place to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still only the 2 smokes so I am doing well I think. And that’s all I have for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3630206376562139741?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3630206376562139741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-think-i-broke-awesome.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3630206376562139741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3630206376562139741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-think-i-broke-awesome.html' title='I think I broke awesome...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7648501805152063245</id><published>2010-02-04T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T21:57:38.367-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Call Patient Zero</title><content type='html'>OK so se it’s like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Big boss, I am feeling like crap and need to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Big Boss: What?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I need to go home, will you cover for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;BB: I don’t under stand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I am sick, I have sharp pains in my stomach and I know I will be puking in a little while, will you work my shift?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;BB: Oh, you are sick? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;BB: You go home?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I want to but I need you to cover me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;BB: OK I will cover, if you are not coming in tomorrow call Little Boss and let him know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thank you and I will do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go home, drink several bottles of pepto just so I can sit on the coach. Around 6 am I just know I will not be able to come in to work so I call Little Boss, and as usual I get his voice mail, you know the one he never calls back from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Boss I am not coming in today I feel like crap, and cannot be very far from the rest room. Let me know if there is any trouble, you have my cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crash hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 3:30pm I wake up, now mind you I work a swing shift so this is my usual start time. Wife 1.0 comes in to check on me, we chat for a bit, I ask if little or big boss called, no she tells me no one has called. Oh good, I wander into the rest room have a nice hot shower, put on clean pajamas and my robe and move out to the living room. I have a bowl of oat meal and start to feel a little normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I was feeling ok, and I thought hey I should be able to make it in tomorrow, so I send my bosses an email saying that I will be in normal time on Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour later I get an email back from Big Boss:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;quote&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Why you no switch shifts?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;No one told me, who is working swing shift today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Why did you not call me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Come in right now. &lt;/quote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I call, little boss worked his normal shift, Big boss worked his normal shift. So I head in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out little boss “didn’t get the message” So all this I get yelled at and have to work while I am sick. Bastards…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got even though, I coughed all over the phone, the printer, the paper for the printer and ever surface I knew they would touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon I get this email saying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;quote&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;I can work swing shift. But your contact was too late.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;You should tell me, if you can't get to change shifts this morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;I may prepare to work swing shift.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;You are a maintenance leader.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;I'm looking forward to your good job. &lt;/quote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh sure I am the lead in the fracking department, but can I get a day shift? No. So the title, it seems, can only be held over my head and servers no real purpose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you want to know if little boss got yelled at as well as me, in short no. I really need a new job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7648501805152063245?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7648501805152063245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/ok-so-se-its-like-this-me-big-boss-i-am.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7648501805152063245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7648501805152063245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/02/ok-so-se-its-like-this-me-big-boss-i-am.html' title='Call Patient Zero'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4470172866857146036</id><published>2010-01-22T18:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T18:55:11.621-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It is done.</title><content type='html'>Well this &lt;S&gt;week&lt;/S&gt; month has very simple been a pain. New bread line install, paperwork filed away PO’s needed to be justified… I have not had a moment’s peace since the New Year started. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have applied to several companies in the area, seeing what is out there and have found not much really. So very interesting companies are hiring, and I would like to work for them simple because they are well known. So we will see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now it seems I am the only one who, until this install, had ever put an entire line in. Oh sure, drop in replacements and such. But I mean the entire line, lay-out test run, power and air. Anchor the thing down and run production. I found this out the hard way, I walked in Tuesday to see all of the equipment anchored down, so I ask How was the test run?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had not done a test run yet, seems we wanted it bolted down before that. Well we only had to cut 10 anchors before the equipment was in the right place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My work, in no way should be confused with brain surgery. I have a simple job make things go vroom vroom. Well not vroom per say, but I giggle when I type vroom and poo for that matter. But come on, some times, well every time I have installed a line it is a game of quarter inches. I can rig it in sight and be damn close, but I will need to move one piece or maybe 2 just a bit to get it to run perfect. Well yeah, that did not happen this time. But it is done now, and I no longer have to move it around so it is all good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have smoked, twice in the last 2 weeks, I got rather hot a few times. And well yeah, but I did not buy any. And they were days a part. OK I failed, but I have not given up. I just might find I need to smoke every so often, or maybe I should find a new line of work. Maybe I will become a porn writer…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4470172866857146036?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4470172866857146036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/01/it-is-done.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4470172866857146036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4470172866857146036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/01/it-is-done.html' title='It is done.'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-309469720845285955</id><published>2010-01-07T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T19:44:19.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things found</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com/2008/12/26/celebrity-pictures-curry-no-taste/"&gt;&lt;img class="mine_2839891" title="celebrity-pictures-curry-no-taste" src="http://roflrazzi.wordpress.com/files/2008/12/celebrity-pictures-curry-no-taste.jpg" alt="Tim Curry" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see more &lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com"&gt;Lol Celebs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com/2008/12/27/celebrity-pictures-shatner-nimoy-bad-touch/"&gt;&lt;img class="mine_2847367" title="celebrity-pictures-shatner-nimoy-bad-touch" src="http://roflrazzi.wordpress.com/files/2008/12/celebrity-pictures-shatner-nimoy-bad-touch.jpg" alt="William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see more &lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com"&gt;Lol Celebs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com/2008/12/30/celebrity-pictures-cruise-martian/"&gt;&lt;img class="mine_2953111" title="celebrity-pictures-cruise-martian" src="http://roflrazzi.wordpress.com/files/2008/12/celebrity-pictures-cruise-martian.jpg" alt="Tom Cruise" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see more &lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com"&gt;Lol Celebs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com/2009/10/28/celebrity-pictures-gambon-rickman-snape-smiling/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://roflrazzi.wordpress.com/files/2009/09/celebrity-pictures-gambon-rickman-snape-smiling.jpg" alt="michael gambon and alan rickman" title="celebrity-pictures-gambon-rickman-snape-smiling" class="mine_2662673408" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;see more &lt;a href="http://roflrazzi.com"&gt;Lol Celebs&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thats all I have for tonight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-309469720845285955?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/309469720845285955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/01/things-found.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/309469720845285955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/309469720845285955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/01/things-found.html' title='Things found'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-1450404846928347079</id><published>2010-01-04T22:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T22:21:33.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>two oh one oh</title><content type='html'>2009… on into 2010…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That seems a strange number to my hands. More so than normal change in numbers like 2008 to 2009… very odd feeling 2009 to 2010. Just feels not right, not wrong either just not right… Ah well enough of my insane ramblings on to the decade that will become known as “Twenteens”, I claim it now, it is mine all mine…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this last decade was 10 years… yeah just 10. I was married the entire time so I got that going for me. Got my school loans paid off… Finally… and that’s about it…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next decade should be something along the lines of; been married the entire decade… incurred more school debt and have not smoked anything other than meat… that’s about it. No grand goals, no plan to become more than I am. Don’t get me wrong, I will be going ahead with schooling and such. I will be improving myself, like maybe stop drinking soda and stop using salad dressing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all I want is small things, minor changes rather than huge undertakings. I will get to the top of Everest, but I will do it one step at a time. That way I will not get over-whelmed I will be able to get it all done in a pace that is realistic as well as tolerable for me and my wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s all I have for now…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-1450404846928347079?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1450404846928347079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-oh-one-oh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1450404846928347079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1450404846928347079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-oh-one-oh.html' title='two oh one oh'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6311088875973217308</id><published>2009-12-28T21:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T21:55:00.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And for my last trick...</title><content type='html'>Nothing up my sleeve...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it is way late and all but I do wish every one a Merry Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will post about my holiday advetures when they are done...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6311088875973217308?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6311088875973217308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/and-for-my-last-trick.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6311088875973217308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6311088875973217308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/and-for-my-last-trick.html' title='And for my last trick...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4493356934205047856</id><published>2009-12-23T23:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T23:06:01.749-08:00</updated><title type='text'>something, something, something... wish two!</title><content type='html'>I really have no specific topic today, But, I will tell you I love tradition, well more specifically other peoples. I have my traditions but they are all new rather than the old kind of traditions… like kissing under mistletoe old tradition. Texting mry xmas to your friend sitting next to you new tradition. These in no way should ever be confused with the song from Fiddler on the Roof:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;And who has the right, as master of the house,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;To have the final word at home?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;The Papa, the Papa! Tradition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: cyan;"&gt;The Papa, the Papa! Tradition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to be insensitive but why would we want to talk to Jewish people about Christmas traditions. Now if we were talking about Chanukah traditions… wait why would I be talking about that… OY VEY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don’t get me wrong, I have much love for the Jewish people, I remember years ago, I must have been 16. My Catholic Big Brother was living with a woman who was Jewish. This in itself was enough to make me smile. I spent my entire Christmas holiday with them. It was wonderful I not only got to participate in Chanukah, and learn about it as well. I was given the privilege of lighting the candles one night. And we did have a Christmas tree as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very good Holiday for me and I will not forget what I learned. Unfortunately they soon broke up and moved out so I never got to learn what Passover was all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my second to last wish for this beautiful Christmas, I wish for all of our traditions to grow with us, so we may reconcile the past with the present and never forget either of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.apple.com/trailers/fox/familyguysomethingsomethingsomethingdarkside/"&gt;(Titie directly stolen from Family Guy! Thanks Seth!)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4493356934205047856?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4493356934205047856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/something-something-something-wish-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4493356934205047856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4493356934205047856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/something-something-something-wish-two.html' title='something, something, something... wish two!'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7991536631838738083</id><published>2009-12-22T22:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T22:47:31.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2, I am down to 2...</title><content type='html'>I miss counted some how, the last one is supposed to be Christmas eve... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe one day I will learn to count better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be back tomorrow night though&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7991536631838738083?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7991536631838738083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/2-i-am-down-to-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7991536631838738083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7991536631838738083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/2-i-am-down-to-2.html' title='2, I am down to 2...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6775537719456316793</id><published>2009-12-21T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T22:35:53.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh boy... 6,5,4 and 3...</title><content type='html'>Seems in my eagerness to finish Christmas I neglected the last few days Christmas wishes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they say in warcraft, I am teh badz...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did find out all the gift I ordered on the interwebs will be late, and one is heading to my house instead of the intended victim recipients house. All I want to know is what am I going to do with half a pound of chocolate covered bacon? If I get it fast enough I will slip it upstairs where the front office keeps its gifts from other companies... That should be worth a laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I wish for all to see the silver lining in the things they cannot control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I wish for Friends to remember those that cannot be with them over the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I wish for web sites to be really obvious when purchasing things on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I really wish I had written all the good stories to go with the above wishes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6775537719456316793?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6775537719456316793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-boy-654-and-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6775537719456316793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6775537719456316793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/oh-boy-654-and-3.html' title='Oh boy... 6,5,4 and 3...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-2195679999428215856</id><published>2009-12-17T23:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T23:47:46.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to the 7th day of Christmas</title><content type='html'>The first Christmas I spent away from home was also my last one spent away from home. Now mind you I have moved around a bit, Orange County, Las Vegas, Bullhead City Portland, and Vancouver. And I have made all of them my home at one time or another. What I mean is I never went away from the city I was living in for the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the on year I did it was horrible and involves one of my ex-girlfriends she is the one who invited me actually. It was the worst Christmas for me ever. Let’s get this started so I can be done with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left Portland on an early flight, and by early I mean 8 am. I was to be in Las Vegas by 10 am where my ex would pick me up and we would go meet several of my friends and go to breakfast. This was all planned out several days before. Should have known better…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dash off the plane as we had been a bit delayed, not my fault people on that entire flight I sat in my chair and minded my own business. I spoke to no one; I didn’t even order my normal Bloody Mary that I get when I fly in the am. Nothing it was not my fault at all. I make my way thru McCarran to the pick up area. Carry on for me thanks! And waited… and waited… and waited some more… After about 30 minutes I start calling around and the first one I get a hold of was my ex… OK I called her first. And she dam near jumps thru the phone and down my throat…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Why are you calling me to pick you up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Because you said you wanted to get everyone together for breakfast…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Breakfast? It’s close to 11 maybe you should have thought about lunch instead!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Well we can order what ever we want…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: My boss invited me to go to lunch this morning so I can’t see you till later…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Uh? What? I thought…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: God you’re going to do this again, arn’t you…&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Nope, I’ll take a cab to Phil’s &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Good, I don’t see why you didn’t have him pick you up anyway…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Cause you said you wanted to pick me up…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: What ever… Bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally my fault Should have got back on the plane and gone home right then and there, my inner voice was screaming it with a load speaker… Did I listen? Nope…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got on a bus going to the Gold Coast where I would have lunch and call Phil and we could hang out. Well Phil had just finished work and need to take a bit of a nap but would be cool to hang out in a couple of hours. No problem there was a theater in the Gold Coast so I would just catch a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie and hanging out with Phil, He got a call from my Ex, she said she was on her way… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she picks me up and we head out to Starbucks for some coffee and to sit on their patio in the warm evening air. All of my friends showed up for this as I had called them. But before they got their my Ex was looking at gifts in the store and we were chatting, she apologized for being “A Bitch” and it was just all this stress she was under, cooking decorating, shopping and me of course… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was eyeing this gift pack and asked if I though her boss would like it… I said does he drink Starbucks? Of course he does, she said. Then he will like it. Well can you spot me $25 to pay for it; I get my bonus tomorrow and can pay you back then… And &lt;strike&gt;my dick&lt;/strike&gt; my hand opened my wallet and pulled out the money. I went outside then to wait for the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we all say good night, she and I start to head to her house, of course she was hungry and had no food at home even though cooking had been one of her major stresses these days… Ah well Blueberry Hill is always open. As we are seated in the both, we order and soon she is leaning up against me, telling me how much she missed me and soon her hand was not where it should have been. This was one of her favorite things to do, give me a hard on and make me walk out… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that’s just what she did, and at this point I was well beyond caring, I just wanted to get some sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to her house and I really expect to see the place decorated… Because she had been working on it for weeks.. and nothing, not a dam thing… I think she saw it in my eyes, she tells me she is going to get e tree tomorrow and we will decorate it. The one good thing was that her son was with her so at least I got to hang out with him and get caught up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK two days till Christmas and we will pick up our story there, but lets just say I spent a lot of time baby sitting Jack while she worked, not that I minded but I thought I was on vacation…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas morning, ah it was great her son was up before me and the two of them opened their Christmas gifts. I stager down stair about an hour later and grab some coffee and sit down by them. Now, I will tell you I am not real big on getting presents, just kind of feel embarrassed when opening them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Jack to get the gifts I put under there for both him and his mother, he told me that mom already opened them all up and even gave his to him to open up. OK, a little strange but fine child Christmas morning gift opening… I understand but hers? And well should have hopped on the plane then as well but nope had to stick it out. She gets out of the shower and gets dressed and comes down stairs… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She walks right by me says nothing, I say Merry Christmas! I hope you liked your gifts… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: What the fuck does that mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I hope you like your gifts is…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Don’t worry I have gifts for you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I didn’t ask but that is sweet of…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex Oh and you are going with Phil to his girlfriends parents house for Christmas dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don’t even know them; I thought you were cooking…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: I am but I don’t have enough, and Jack is going to his Grandmothers…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So how much do you have?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Enough for me and Steve (her boyfriend)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I’m sure…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point she grabs some tissue paper and goes up stairs. Me I go out into the garage to smoke, and wish I had a beer or whiskey even…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She come out to the garage with a wrapped gift under her arm and hands it to me… Oh were going to do this out here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Yeah why not…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: OK (opens gift)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: wow a coffee sampler from Starbucks… oh that reminds me you never gave me the money for this…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: No this is a different one, this is their premium sampler, it costs more than the other one….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Says $25 right here on the back…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Ex: Lets just say she called me very name in the book and made some up to boot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed with Phil that night, I would have stayed longer but Phil really was not set up for any kind of long term, meaning over night guest studio apartment kind of thing. I went home on the 26th Home where my family was, where I am loved, where they know how to make a dinner and have left-over’s to prove it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas wish seven; I wish all to know the love of home this and for all Christmas’s to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-2195679999428215856?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2195679999428215856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/welcome-to-7th-day-of-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2195679999428215856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2195679999428215856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/welcome-to-7th-day-of-christmas.html' title='Welcome to the 7th day of Christmas'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5141155749487187362</id><published>2009-12-16T22:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T22:50:06.201-08:00</updated><title type='text'>EIGHT</title><content type='html'>About 11 years ago, my girlfriend and I were out late one December night. We were sober, and all was well but we decided to stop off at Jack in the Box for something to eat. It was then I saw the sign, the sign that would change how I got ornaments for the Christmas tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/SynSDCTTaRI/AAAAAAAAADY/snecIxgKGYg/s1600-h/Oh+yeah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/SynSDCTTaRI/AAAAAAAAADY/snecIxgKGYg/s320/Oh+yeah.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Thats right I got this sweet ornament at the drive thru. My future wife was damn near falling out of my truck laughing so damn hard... she did not think I was serious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I was, I was very serious, in all reality how many people would put this on thier tree? I mean just the first year, let alone the following years. Yes we still have it and it goes on all of our trees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did buy another one which is cool and goes on our tree every year as well. But it cannot compair, it was the second one we bought it the next year. Shortly after that they stopped making them all together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/SynTPqb1UAI/AAAAAAAAADg/l9_-TCNBpzA/s1600-h/%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ps="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/SynTPqb1UAI/AAAAAAAAADg/l9_-TCNBpzA/s320/%232.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;These two did mark the begining of so much Christmas joy that I cannot even tell you. Good times and bad. Rich or poor these two are always hung up. Much like my Santa Homers at my work desk. We can talk of those later though...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These became a symbol of our holiday joy and how simple things are the key to a good relationship. This is why you may laugh, or point and mock. But these make us smile. These are our first holiday tradtion, we started many more after but these were the first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think it is now time for Christmas wish #8...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish everyone the joy I feel seeing these two silly orniments hung in our tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5141155749487187362?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5141155749487187362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/eight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5141155749487187362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5141155749487187362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/eight.html' title='EIGHT'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/SynSDCTTaRI/AAAAAAAAADY/snecIxgKGYg/s72-c/Oh+yeah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-1340545540321570662</id><published>2009-12-15T23:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T23:03:57.454-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One day closer -OR- Number 9</title><content type='html'>I got nothing, really nothing I want to say or rant about. I thought I could make a list, but no. I poked around all the blogs I stalk and nothing inspired me, so I will now post 20 questions about Christmas survey... Yeah but it's all I got...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do you believe in Christmas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK really? How can one not believe in Christmas? It's on the calander... I get days off for it... Now really why would I not believe in it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Do you believe in Jesus Christ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I do, was this asked in case I did not believe in Christmas?&lt;br /&gt;3. What is your favorite thing about Christmas? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that we give ourselves permition to be kind to others... and snickerdoodles... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;4. What is your favorite Christmas song? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, because I hardly hear it &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;5. What is your favorite Christmas snack/treat? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;snickerdoodle, I cannot stress this enough. SNICKERDOODLE! &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;6. Do you decorate with Frosty, Penguins, or Santa? or...? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, even some with Jack-in-the-box (this sis a post to itself) &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;7. Is Christmas too commercialized? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Of course it is, any business who does not capitalize on everything it can will fail. The feelings it makes are not. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;8. What do you feel is the true meaning of Christmas? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, harmony, peace snickerdoodles! &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;9. Favorite Christmas present you ever received? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coffee maker, from my wife. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;11. Family get togethers or is everyone too far apart? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some one stole 10... I blame the grinch... To far apart. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;12. Do you put Christmas lights on your house? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Well around the patio... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;13. Shop in stores, or online? or both? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes and craft as well... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;14. Favorite Christmas memory? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years old and my mother told me to put some thing in the trunk of the car, I opened it up and there were my presents. She had to buy more so I would be supprized but let me have those as well... it was great. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;15. What would you like to see in your Christmas stocking? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lifesavers that look like they are a book... And snickerdoodles. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;16. What do you fill others' stockings with? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much really, silly stuff. The master is my mother in law. She gets yo-yo's, silly string, candy, poaddle games great stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;17. Have you ever eaten a chestnut that was roasted on an open fire? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;Yes &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;18. What do you say to someone who wants to take away Christmas, or not allow Christmas displays? &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;I wish them a Merry Christmas and mention Christmas as much as I can. I get them Christmas cards and be sure to get them a gift. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;thats all I got but for my Christmas wish: &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;SNICKERDOODLES for everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-1340545540321570662?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1340545540321570662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/one-day-closer-or-number-9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1340545540321570662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1340545540321570662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/one-day-closer-or-number-9.html' title='One day closer -OR- Number 9'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3597199487027011815</id><published>2009-12-14T17:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T17:50:05.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to the 10 days of Christmas</title><content type='html'>So it seems I have fallen behind on many things in this season of giving, but I have had so much fun in doing it. It has been a great holiday so far, kind of busy but not the run people down because they are in your way kind of thing. Just a little bump here and there, but over all only a few gifts and cookie plates will be late. But I will hold the shippers responsible; I will even say this in the cards I send, that will be late &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still need to decorate the house. Now this is a point of contention between me and my wife. She likes to decorate later in the month; I like to set up early, like around the first week end. But since she is the one who actually organize where everything goes, she wins every year. She is also the only one to decorate the tree, first few years I tried to help those times ended badly so now I sit with my hot cider and watch as she decorates. I made the mistake once of thinking since I did not do anything for the tree I could be else where… that ended badly as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am starting a new tradition today; I will make 10 Christmas gifts that I really want. One wish a day until Christmas eve. I was going to do 12 but I kept putting it off, with that in mind here we go…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I wish to finally get around to reading that self help book How not to Procrastination&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3597199487027011815?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3597199487027011815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/welcome-to-10-days-of-christmas.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3597199487027011815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3597199487027011815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/welcome-to-10-days-of-christmas.html' title='Welcome to the 10 days of Christmas'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5902081577471110239</id><published>2009-12-03T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T23:15:05.404-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I only care about'/><title type='text'>Not for Commercial use</title><content type='html'>So I had this entry planned that was an absolutely brilliant idea on my part. But then I think rain is wet so what do I know. But silly me I forgot what I was going to write about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sxi2nOpahfI/AAAAAAAAADA/KV86ltJ4WcI/s1600-h/EpicFail02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" er="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sxi2nOpahfI/AAAAAAAAADA/KV86ltJ4WcI/s200/EpicFail02.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was thinking and being distracted by shinny things like chocolate covered bacon and vegan’s nightmare ice cream, when it hit me… I watch more www.Hulu.com than I do TV. And when I do watch TV I let the DVR get about 20 minutes ahead of me and then I start watching. With this method I can FF the commercials and all is well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Hulu you get one commercial every few minutes or so and that’s it. The thing is I never want what I see on TV. But to date I have become interested in trying several products and I want to test drive a car all because they were on Hulu. I find this strange as I am seldom swayed by advertising. I like word of mouth best for picking out what I want to try and not try. I don’t ever recall saying I want to test drive that car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all this got me to thinking, maybe we are oversaturated with advertising. Remember Minority Report? Tom Cruise, police, future crimes kind of thing? When you walked anywhere ads were beamed directly at you, you saw them every where. I think in that kind of culture you would become immune to them. Just back round noise to be filtered out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really feel advertising needs to change, although since I have bought my iMac I have noticed them more and more in product placement in shows. Like Fringe, Leverage, Community and V just to name a few. Even Family Guy mentions them. So there you have it, reduce commercials and have a greater impact on your demographic as well as those outside of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5902081577471110239?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5902081577471110239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/not-for-commercial-use.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5902081577471110239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5902081577471110239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/12/not-for-commercial-use.html' title='Not for Commercial use'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sxi2nOpahfI/AAAAAAAAADA/KV86ltJ4WcI/s72-c/EpicFail02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6727248840876861745</id><published>2009-11-26T05:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-27T05:08:46.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Traditions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Back when I was a child Thanksgiving was a special day in my family, my brother sister and mother would sit around the dinner table around 3pm to find a dry turkey, stove top stuffing and a bottle of wine for my mother, this was in place of her bottle of vodka. She would fall asleep around 4, and that was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Around the time I turned 20 it had become a box of wine and a Swanson frozen turkey dinner, the first “I hate you” would come out about 6pm. No really I had some great dinners when I was in my 20s. About the time I turned 29 I was living in Vegas alone for the first time and I held my own “orphan dinner” for all the transplanted workers I knew, dinner ran all day as people would come and go according to their shift. Everybody brought something and it was one of the best dinners I have ever had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Next thing I know I am in the Pacific Northwest and the family I was staying with had just a huge dinner. Hors d'oeuvres tables were set up and everything from ham rolls to salmon were available, the Christmas baking would have been started by then and some candies and cookies were also served. And we would snack until the dinner was served. The dinner alone was a feast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;Since that time I have become married and we have started our own traditions. And what I have found that no matter what, no matter how much she complains, my mother in law MUST host the dinner, must cook all, must be all. Rather tough when she throws a hissy fit at my wife and then wonders why we don't come over. Then proceeds to call me in tears and asking me when she will get over it. I finally did lay down the law but that does not belong in this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;As the day goes on I will grow more and more thankful as the memories of all my past Thanksgiving come to the front of my mind. Both the good and the bad. I love all of my family and friends, and miss those that I cannot spend the day with. And for all these memories and the years I have had to enjoy them I am thankful.&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/8610390087527791110-6727248840876861745?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6727248840876861745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/traditons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6727248840876861745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6727248840876861745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/traditons.html' title='Traditions'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8775987882749177135</id><published>2009-11-26T00:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T01:09:23.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>silly poem</title><content type='html'>Night before thanksgiving, &lt;br /&gt;and all thru out town, &lt;br /&gt;Traffic was horrid &lt;br /&gt;and did make me frown. &lt;br /&gt;To the store, &lt;br /&gt;to the shop &lt;br /&gt;for just one last stop, &lt;br /&gt;All that was needed was a pile of groceries; &lt;br /&gt;with a turkey on top. &lt;br /&gt;Rain was pouring &lt;br /&gt;and the people were dashing &lt;br /&gt;I jumped from my car &lt;br /&gt;and in a puddle went splashing. &lt;br /&gt;I rung out my coat and wiped off my face &lt;br /&gt;A cold shiver shook me, &lt;br /&gt;the water went down &lt;br /&gt;to that special place. &lt;br /&gt;All I need was in the store, &lt;br /&gt;And soon I could finish &lt;br /&gt;this evil chore. &lt;br /&gt;The crowd was huge &lt;br /&gt;and smelly, &lt;br /&gt;and rank, &lt;br /&gt;And that was just for the carts &lt;br /&gt;Hey did that guy just fart? &lt;br /&gt;I ran, &lt;br /&gt;I dodged. &lt;br /&gt;I turned and strafed. &lt;br /&gt;I moved and planed &lt;br /&gt;just for an escape. &lt;br /&gt;I lunged and nudged &lt;br /&gt;and soon I found &lt;br /&gt;A path leading &lt;br /&gt;to open ground. &lt;br /&gt;I looked and searched &lt;br /&gt;both hi and low &lt;br /&gt;Up and down &lt;br /&gt;back and forth. &lt;br /&gt;Slowly oh so slowly &lt;br /&gt;did my cart begin to fill. &lt;br /&gt;Item after item &lt;br /&gt;did I mark off my list. &lt;br /&gt;If I forget anything &lt;br /&gt;the misses will be pissed. &lt;br /&gt;On and on, grab and pray &lt;br /&gt;for all of my items &lt;br /&gt;I would soon have to pay. &lt;br /&gt;Oh crap oh heck &lt;br /&gt;I hope my check &lt;br /&gt;they OK. &lt;br /&gt;On to the last, &lt;br /&gt;just one item left &lt;br /&gt;For one old Tom &lt;br /&gt;I must get the best. &lt;br /&gt;Butterball, &lt;br /&gt;thirty pounds &lt;br /&gt;she had called. &lt;br /&gt;Her mother &lt;br /&gt;was coming &lt;br /&gt;so nothing but the best. &lt;br /&gt;So I pushed and shoved &lt;br /&gt;with all my zest, &lt;br /&gt;the crowd that stood &lt;br /&gt;between me and my rest. &lt;br /&gt;I caught just a glimpse &lt;br /&gt;good old tom turkey. &lt;br /&gt;I dove and clawed, &lt;br /&gt;I grab and yanked on &lt;br /&gt;what would soon be my feast. &lt;br /&gt;In my hands &lt;br /&gt;For the first time today, &lt;br /&gt;I held my future &lt;br /&gt;And it was bright as day. &lt;br /&gt;I could hear the clamor. &lt;br /&gt;From far behind &lt;br /&gt;as I pranced down the isle &lt;br /&gt;pushing my cart &lt;br /&gt;happy as a child&lt;br /&gt;the wheel di grab&lt;br /&gt;Off course it wanted to go. &lt;br /&gt;None of this I yelled &lt;br /&gt;And pulled it back straight &lt;br /&gt;And onto the cashier &lt;br /&gt;as the hour was late. &lt;br /&gt;Ring and ching &lt;br /&gt;the&amp;nbsp;register did go. &lt;br /&gt;Faster and faster &lt;br /&gt;she was starting to throw&lt;br /&gt;Item after item&lt;br /&gt;till all was done &lt;br /&gt;I scribbled my check &lt;br /&gt;And it soon beeped “cleared.” &lt;br /&gt;I grabbed it all &lt;br /&gt;and away home&lt;br /&gt;I did run.&lt;br /&gt;Dinner well&lt;br /&gt;nothing got ruined&lt;br /&gt;Stuffed with food &lt;br /&gt;is what we had become.&lt;br /&gt;So now they nap&lt;br /&gt;and snooze&lt;br /&gt;and all is just about done&lt;br /&gt;I figure it is time for me to have fun.&lt;br /&gt;I turn the monitor on&lt;br /&gt;and boot up my system&lt;br /&gt;but soon my wife is &lt;br /&gt;calling from the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;As I walk in I am astounded&lt;br /&gt;the stove&lt;br /&gt;the oven&lt;br /&gt;every counter top is filthy&lt;br /&gt;she claim a headache&lt;br /&gt;and hands me&amp;nbsp;a mop.&lt;br /&gt;So take my warning&lt;br /&gt;and listen well.&lt;br /&gt;When it comes time &lt;br /&gt;for Thanksgiving&lt;br /&gt;make it at someone elses house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8775987882749177135?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8775987882749177135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/silly-poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8775987882749177135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8775987882749177135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/silly-poem.html' title='silly poem'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6422924213950020205</id><published>2009-11-24T20:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T20:36:01.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How to turn a frown...</title><content type='html'>All right here we go my pointers for a successful Thanksgiving meal. I have eaten just about 60 of these holiday meals, over 44 years,&amp;nbsp;and I consider myself to be a bit of an expert in the area of the eating of a Thanksgiving meal. One year I ate at 5 different dinners and 3 dessert visits… (Personal best right there).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let’s dive right in on how to be a huge success…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Serve roasted turkey, I mean come on this is the center of attention, at least until the strange cousins get enough booze in them to start flashing… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-For the non-meat eaters or herbivores, or what ever you like to be called these days, just eat everything else, and no I will not make you a tofurkey, you are lucky I did not make &lt;a href="http://www.fresh99.com/meat-cake.htm"&gt;meat cake!&lt;/a&gt; (Oh it’s real)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Be sure to have lots of wine and beer on hand for those relatives who are much more entertaining when drunk like the afore mentioned cousins. Or uncle Bob who cannot keep his teeth in after 2 drinks… oh how we laughed and laughed…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Side dishes, potato’s mashed, turkey gravy store bought, I know but I have found home made to always be lumpy and/or oily. Where as that is fine for other areas, for this if you cannot make it just go ahead and buy it. String Bean casserole and candied yams are musts. Dressing a friend of mine made a killer dressing the other year I suggest making that recipe it was very good and no I cannot tell you what it was called. Swap out what you will here as your family traditions will be what help to make or ruin your event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Setting the table; have the spouses/girlfriends/boyfriends do this. Tell them they will get no food if they fail this test. And mean it, if they cannot set a table they have no place at a dinner table. Give them $5 and send them for a McTurkey…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dessert; now pumpkin pie and raisin or chest pie and of course pecan all give me heart burn so I eat none of it instead I insist upon a cannoli or a nice Dutch apple pie. Don’t be swayed into pie being part of the tradition, as I am very sure of the fact that the pilgrims did not serve pie…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I have one last piece of advice, make dinner reservations to a local dinner that does Thanksgiving. Trust me in the end you will be ahead of the game and no dishes to clean, relatives to shoo away or find the shirts they lost. Just a nice dinner and no one had to kill themselves. I know but what of the left-overs… trust me much easier to make a small turkey breast or whole turkey on the side than an entire meal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just my 2 cents&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6422924213950020205?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6422924213950020205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-turn-frown.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6422924213950020205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6422924213950020205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-to-turn-frown.html' title='How to turn a frown...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7730078441131562874</id><published>2009-11-23T22:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T22:14:36.192-08:00</updated><title type='text'>five... four... three</title><content type='html'>Count down to black Friday has reached the point of no return. We have no choice it will happen just like it has for years past. On a side note; know why we get the day after Thanksgiving off? I mean to say what holiday we are celebrating? No idea? Neither do I… I had been told that we swapped Veterans Day off for this one but could not locate any proof of said swap…In Buffalo, New York, the Saturday after Thanksgiving is the day of the &lt;a href="http://www.worldslargestdisco.com/"&gt;World's Largest Disco&lt;/a&gt; a tribute to &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World%27s_Largest_Disco"&gt;disco and the 1970s&lt;/a&gt; that regularly draws thousands of dancers and the top performing acts of the 1970s. So going to dance my booty off… Oh Wait No I’m not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;But really I come here today to make a few suggestions for making Black Friday a pleasant time for all. Now by tradition I never shop on BF (yes I am truly to lazy to type it out). I did once it was with my wife and no I will never do it again, I saw no benefit that some careful planning a few months early could not avoid. But she likes it, and no longer askes me to go so I am cool with it. Now I may never have shopped in it but I have worked it, cashier, stock, waiter, bartender general lacky labor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;So Here is my advice to those that will be shopping:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;-You have 28 more days to shop, it’s ok if you don’t get everything in one trip. Wait till the 24 of December that’s when the fun begins…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-You are not the only one to be shopping that day, you are no more important than anyone else. That is to say I am most important, if I were to be shopping which I won’t be. But if you see me clear the road and I hope your hungery cause you will be eating my dust… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Smile and be nice, say please A LOT! Or else the cashier will screw up your credit card/order and leave you in the middle of a parking lot with a scare on your side and a not to go to the nearest hospital… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-To remember it is the season of giving wear big bells and Santa hats. If for no other reason than it will drive your fellow shoppers insane and vulnerable to arrest clearing yet one more obstical out of your way to the perfect shopping score: The singing fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Always ask if you can go in back because we all know that’s where they keep the good stuff whisper fulsh 9000 here I come…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-When eating ion Black Friday besure to… oh who the hell am I kidding no one will eat just shop shop shop…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Watch your fellow shoppers and if they leave their cart unattended it is open to salvage rights. On Black Friday salvage rights set in after only 5 seconds of the cart being unattended so have at… Just not sure who I am going to give the chocolate covered bacon too…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- If a fellow shopper has picked up the last cell phone measuring tape that your dad has been hinting at just do what I do: Run at them screaming about invisible Jesus fire, and how the weak shall be burned up for great justice… when they leave their cart 5 second rule kicks in and you are golden. If security picks you up you are set for an insanity plea, this is what I call the win-win-win as if you did this I would laugh my ass off…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;That’s all I have for you today scouts as I look for a little levity in my morning coffee… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving tips, I know a little backwards but really who cares?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;FOR GREAT JUSTICE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7730078441131562874?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7730078441131562874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/five-four-three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7730078441131562874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7730078441131562874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/five-four-three.html' title='five... four... three'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-2857726712572131264</id><published>2009-11-18T22:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T22:06:22.949-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the crap I put up with'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whine'/><title type='text'>Industrial Maintenance and you</title><content type='html'>I was told I was rude tonight… Me rude… an asshole maybe, sharp tongued? Sure. Load abrasive ok if you are an idiot. But rude? Never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am nothing if not respectful and polite, at the very least silent. I know what the incident was about. I was asked to fix a swing arm case retainer. (An air cylinder designed to hold back empty cases so the counter can pull a box out with out a hassle.) I said sure and pulled the arm off, when I did this all the boxes went rushing forward, I said I can’t fix this AND hold the boxes back…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was I rude, or just to the point that they need to play the part of the arm while I fixed the real one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See this goes back to a bigger issue, a while back my wife said I was grumpy all the time. I said why would I be grumpy all the time? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it made me think maybe I was grumpy all the time, my friends had made a comment to me about being depressed… So I went about trying to change myself, trying to be a little more positive, a little faster to laugh. Hell at times even silly. Hence my facebook update: I am thankful for my friends who can make me giggle like a school girl. That is just the most recent example. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I have been trying for like 6 months, thinking happier thoughts, Not giving smart ass comments, taking a lot more in stride and keeping silent on issues I cannot change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week in October my wife and I are talking about attitudes and how one person we know has really been grouchy lately (not me). My wife says: They keep going like this and they will become grumpier than you…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this hurt, really, cut me to the quick. Here I have been putting all this time and effort into changing and nothing… I point this out to her, I point out that I have been trying to change. I point out how I don’t let the little things get to me anymore… She starts to blush. I had done these things I was no longer the grumpy guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was just so very used to seeing me grumpy she just thought of me that way… she felt bad, she had not noticed that I had been trying. She said she was sorry, but I understood. It was who I had been for so very long that the change was slow and not sever enough for people to take a big notice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will now try to not be rude, at work… where they seem to take great pleasure in teasing me with idiocy… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SERENITY NOW!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-2857726712572131264?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2857726712572131264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/industrial-maintenance-and-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2857726712572131264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2857726712572131264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/industrial-maintenance-and-you.html' title='Industrial Maintenance and you'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7103172795786006138</id><published>2009-11-16T20:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T20:59:47.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Million Dollar Memories...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fisherofstories.blogspot.com/"&gt;I blame Travis...&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;He started this and I feel like playing along&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://fisherofstories.blogspot.com/search/label/Memoir%20Monday/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh170/tstyles77/MemoirMonday-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go see what he is all about, I think you'll like it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my early childhood, on Sunday afternoons, when it seemed all of my friend’s mothers and fathers were nursing a hang-over. The children of said families would do many things to be out of the house. Kite flying, snowball (our version of kick the can). Tree house building, although often we would be yelled at to keep it down… this really just drove us further from the houses… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the normal actions for Sundays of my childhood, except for rain and getting campused (our version of being grounded). Which often would occur due to an unforeseen circumstance like home work not done, chores not done… smart assed answer given during a lecture… giggling in church. Many things could and did land me in dutch with my mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result, I would watch the million dollar movie, it came on right after the Sunday afternoon matinee… which also filled my day. But these shows is where I learned all about true comedy, Oliver and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, The Three Stooges, The Marx Brothers, Martin and Lewis and Burns and Allen. Dead-end Gang, Francis the talking mule… Oh how they would make me laugh. The simple gags of the Three Stooges all the way up to the word play Empire State Building that would be constructed by the Marx brothers, only for the attention to go to Harpo who spoke very little…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Slap stick these comics delivered are still un rivaled, even by the likes of Jack Ass… All in all I remember how I could watch these films with my mother… and during the commercial breaks; she would tell me stories about the actors who were staring that week. Funny ones, sad ones and love stories. She would fill me in, I don’t think she realized then that those afternoons would be my fondest memories of her. Of my childhood really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do miss those days of simple laughs…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7103172795786006138?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7103172795786006138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-blame-travis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7103172795786006138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7103172795786006138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-blame-travis.html' title='Million Dollar Memories...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8489799082056302597</id><published>2009-11-12T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T20:37:52.763-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blatherings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mixing meds'/><title type='text'>Now I know...</title><content type='html'>So I was reading one of the &lt;a href="http://pearl-whyyoulittle.blogspot.com/2009/11/mom-can-i-get-one-of-my-toes-removed.html"&gt;Blogs I stalk&lt;/a&gt; And it was mentioned, as a side note really, she mentioned “your good undies”. Now I under stand, well not really… what the hell are “your good undies”? As a guy, now married and very far from the single scene I asked my wife… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: Honey? What are good undies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: What are you talking about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: I was reading this blog and good undies were mentioned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: What the hell are you reading at work?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: My stories&lt;/span&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: Your what?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: the blogs I follow&lt;/span&gt;…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: Now what were you asking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: The phrase “ruin your good undies”… what are good undies?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: Oh, those would be the undies you wear on a date when you are going to have sex…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: Oh, so you don’t have any then?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: WHAT?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: I mean you don’t go on dates so you wouldn’t need any…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: yellow;"&gt;Mrs. Me: … I do have silk thongs and such; they are pretty much anything other than granny panties, not that you notice…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;Me: Oh… ok…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You rookies out there catch my mistake? Been married 10 years and can still get in the dog house with out trying…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I under stand, but I still think it is rather silly… good panties, granny panties, period panties… all these different types of “undies” Hell I remember back when I was 20 underwear had two good sides… the only underwear that was different was my lucky drawers… that’s right, I had them till the waist band would no longer stretch, and they were the underwear I was wearing the first time I got me some poon-ninny…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only time I got laid in those as well now that I think about it… But really, as for me I couldn’t careless all I care about is panties in a bunch on the floor… Silk, pink who cares… What I want to know why can she wear my boxers and that’s fine, but I put her panties on and I’m a freak…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8489799082056302597?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8489799082056302597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/now-i-know.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8489799082056302597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8489799082056302597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/now-i-know.html' title='Now I know...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-358296594887307381</id><published>2009-11-11T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T23:54:58.692-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No, none for you!</title><content type='html'>I have an old story that has been in my head for a few days now. I had forgotten the event even happened, I am not sure how I could have forgotten as every time I pass the freaking store I say “Oh hell no! I will not shop there ever!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No really, I have not set foot in a Circle K in over 20 years. I refuse to give them my money after the way they treated me. I can not/will not ever forgive them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all starts off at our local shop. It used to be Hanshaw’s, that’s the one I stole the beer from, It had been bout out by Circle K. Now it was brightly lit, clean and last but not least did not have dust on their products. All these changes seemed to happen over night. But there it stood. I could now play Dragons Layer all night long… Ah It was a grand time to be me… Soda, chips, what ever I wanted was right there 24 hours a day 7 days a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well turns out my fortune would soon come crashing down around my ears… I would soon learn what sacrifice was all about…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing in the store with my soda that I just paid for, minding my own business, watching a friend try to beat my score on Zaxon… I was the master of Zaxon and several other games of little fame. When I was grabbed by my collar dragged to the door and forcible remove from this fine establishment. I turned around to see one of the clerks purple faced and glaring at me. So I had to ask: What the hell man? What the hell was that for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All he said was to never come back… never come back? But… where would I get my soda? My cigarettes? My chips? Where? 7-11 was miles away… I was saddened. I was hurt… My paradise lost… heaven on earth… PooF! Gone… no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I never did find out what they thought I had done but I was told I could come back to the store. Well I was still a little pissed but ok, I figured I would get over it soon enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well a week later Tony, Sean, and I are drinking and Tony decides he wants a Hershey bar, so off we go. We hop the wall, and head on in. Same guy who threw me out was working. No surprise really, we head in, I get my stuff, and Tony gets his candy bar, Hershey’s with almonds. Sean got his Frisco Burger… I will tell you about that in another post, Well Tony is first in line and the clerk looks at him and says ninety cents please… we all stopped. And it went from there:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: Sorry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: Ninety cents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: For?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: the candy…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: I only have one…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: yes ninety cents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: But the sign says forty five cents&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: for the small ones…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: but this is small&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: no it is big&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: No it is the small one…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: No it is big ninety cents…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: … you are wrong….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: I AM NOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Svu-G943WoI/AAAAAAAAABg/-GDUfeu66hg/s1600-h/Hershey%2520bar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Svu-G943WoI/AAAAAAAAABg/-GDUfeu66hg/s200/Hershey%2520bar.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Me: (after getting a regular Hershey bar} is this a small one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Clerk: Yes, forty five cents…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Svu-XlrySGI/AAAAAAAAABo/I_JRIuUNu2U/s1600-h/hershey-1-45-oz-crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" sr="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Svu-XlrySGI/AAAAAAAAABo/I_JRIuUNu2U/s200/hershey-1-45-oz-crop.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Me: I don’t want to buy it, I want to show you, this one weighs more than that one…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: Yes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: then how can it be a large one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: Because of the nuts…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony: Because of the NUTS? You’re nuts…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: That is just crazy…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clerk: GET OUT OF STORE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I never went back... And this really was not a scrifice... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know who sacrificed? Our Vets, Thank you one and all for service to your country! We owe you big time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-358296594887307381?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/358296594887307381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-have-old-story-that-has-been-in-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/358296594887307381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/358296594887307381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-have-old-story-that-has-been-in-my.html' title='No, none for you!'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Svu-G943WoI/AAAAAAAAABg/-GDUfeu66hg/s72-c/Hershey%2520bar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8901721866385590535</id><published>2009-11-10T23:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T01:10:15.722-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cause thats how I roll'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='It never hurts to help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I only care about'/><title type='text'>I should be drinking...</title><content type='html'>I really have nothing going tonight. Been elbow deep in grease trying to get a chain tensioner to well tension… It likes to slip from time to time. Not matter how much torque I put on the damn thing. I decided to sink another retaining hole so I can double bolt it. Seems to be holding for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen many discussions on belt versus chain tension, and where you might be quick to dismiss the subject. You have this concept involved in your life a lot. Take the average fanbelt or serpentine belt as is the case on all the cars these days. How much tension should be applied to the tensioner? How do I ensure it will do its job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use a basic set of rules for all belts just to get them roughed in. Tightest would be that I can move the belt the width of the belt both to the top and bottom. The lose side would be roughly a one half inch play to both sides. With the belt set mid way between these 2 points I know I can start up the machine and the belt will do its job. I can fine tune it with it running to ensure proper tension. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now why worry about belt, chains and the like? Well to be honest proper attention paid to these items and a brief check once a month will let your car or in my case my machines run with a reduced chance at a failure. Also, if the belts or chains are to tight it will reduce the life span of your other equipment/bearings or drive shafts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Callahan’s Pro tip:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Ever have a belt whine or screech at you? Replace it only to find the new belt does it as well? Next time splash some water on the belt, if the screeching stops it is the belt, if it does not stop, or comes back really fast, it is the bearing or drive shaft.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8901721866385590535?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8901721866385590535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-really-have-nothing-going-tonight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8901721866385590535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8901721866385590535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-really-have-nothing-going-tonight.html' title='I should be drinking...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-1617165126521483933</id><published>2009-11-09T18:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T18:47:04.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Honor amoung thieves?</title><content type='html'>It's Memoir Monday as started by Travis at &lt;a href="http://fisherofstories.blogspot.com/"&gt;I Like To Fish&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://fisherofstories.blogspot.com/search/label/Memoir%20Monday/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh170/tstyles77/MemoirMonday-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ffd966;"&gt;(as displayed on Travis' blog: Hey guys! It's Memoir Monday! Everyone should know what to do, just steal my little button code down there, then paste it onto the Edit HTML section on your post. Type up a memoir, spank yourself a little, and call it a win! The only rule? It must be true. So go on! Get you some!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back when I was just ever so stupid, I was working at a convenience store. It was a second job and it gave me ample opportunity to occasionally heist a six pack or 2, or a case… maybe 10. Like I said, I was stupid and thought the manager deserved to be ripped off as he would only pay me sub-minimum wage. Roughly a buck twenty back in 1985. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well one night the manager forgot to lock the back door. I was informed of this from a different stock boy, and all he wanted for this info was a case of bud… Well, ok and I was off…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We, my friends and I, headed in to start the stocking of the cooler. Well 2 of us, the rest were dubbed runners. We handed the case of bud over to the other stock boy and he headed out. Now we started filling the shelves, we could get it done in 15 minutes so that was our time frame. We must have pumped 25 cases out the back door before we were done stocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were done, and in theory, we had 25 cases of beer and 2 bottles of rum sitting in the refrigerator in my garage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked out to go throw the cardboard away. This is how we normally stole our beer, one case at a time, buried deep in the wagon that was used to drag out the cardboard. We could not liberate bottles though; they would clang together and tell the cashiers what I was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn the corner and my world came crashing down. Cops with the rollers going, search light on our runners… stacks of beer, cold beer… ice cold beer sitting on the curb… But I did not see the rum, so we might get away with something, but I needed to get my friends away from the nice police officers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked up, and put the cardboard into the bin. Cops started asking me questions and I copped to all of it. It was my idea, I found the door unlocked. I called these guys to come over and help… All of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officers seemed rather impressed that I would admit to my crime. But see it throws them off a little when you do it; it gives you a little wiggle room. They had only caught us with some not all of it. I still thought we had some stashed away in my garage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went into the store, the manager showed up, looked at me and said you’re fired, and I said that’s cool. It was only a part time job; my main gig was working at Disneyland. But I needed to not get charges pressed. So I told him I would return the rest of the beer if he did not press charges. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said fine, I told the officers that we would go over and get it. The one in charge said that an officer would drive me over. So we went, my friends still sitting on the curb, talking and laughing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pulled into the ally behind my abode and stacked up all along my fence was ALL of the beer… All of the cold beer and rum… Was now going back to where I had liberated it from. I had fought the war and lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officers were amazed, as well as the cashiers and the manager in how much we managed to get out. All but one case came back. And they never found out about that one so it was good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get a call from the head office of the store, they asked for a phone interview. Turns out the manager was trying to pin the back door being opened on the asst manager. I liked her and told them the truth, well mostly the truth. I told them I found it unlocked at 2pm, 2 hours before the asst started work. The asst manager became the new manager and it was all good, I had said I was sorry to everyone who worked in the store and they were all good with it. Of course it took them 6 months to let me stock the cooler again… go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-1617165126521483933?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1617165126521483933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/honor-amoung-thieves.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1617165126521483933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1617165126521483933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/honor-amoung-thieves.html' title='Honor amoung thieves?'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8440876230420583940</id><published>2009-11-09T17:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T17:01:12.656-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I only care about'/><title type='text'>Why should I care, It ain't my money.</title><content type='html'>So I found out today I just got to spend 122k on a lighting project. I have been working this one project for about 9 months now and I just got the ok to write the PO for it. I am very happy about this as it is a move that will make the company I work for a little more green. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now onto my next project; making the condenser water loop us a more environmentally friendly suspension system than the chemicals we are using now. See this plant is located by a busy port, and that means lots of trucks, trucks equal diesel fumes. Diesel fumes equal sediment in my cooling tower, and build up on my coils.  More build up on the coils the harder the ammonia system needs to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figure this one will be about 50k and save us about 2.5k a month. Not to mention in the long run not having to change the coils which could cost us an unknown amount as we would be shut down… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to start looking for the project after that… maybe new mixers… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sick sad part about this, I am a criminal at heart and yet I am not looking for kick backs… hell I won’t even let the reps buy me lunch… I must be getting old…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8440876230420583940?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8440876230420583940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-should-i-care-it-aint-my-money.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8440876230420583940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8440876230420583940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-should-i-care-it-aint-my-money.html' title='Why should I care, It ain&apos;t my money.'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5312134238229529439</id><published>2009-11-07T04:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T04:51:37.189-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love this show</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="512" height="296"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/N5Y_d7jWRWIzJlWcHOen7A"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/N5Y_d7jWRWIzJlWcHOen7A" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowFullScreen="true"  width="512" height="296"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do love Yo Gaba Gaba and Angela is awesome as well&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5312134238229529439?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5312134238229529439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-this-show.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5312134238229529439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5312134238229529439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-this-show.html' title='I love this show'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7292326875421081031</id><published>2009-11-05T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T13:00:44.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We have a new winner...</title><content type='html'>I have had one quote that has been my favorite quote for about 5 years and that quote is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"White people smell like mayonnaise."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard this from a hispanic at work, we were all out smoking and it just kind of shot out of her mouth. Now I was not then nor now offended by this statement. It just kind of fascinated by this... do we smell like mayo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas all good things must come to an end. I now have a new quote to take that moniker. I saw it last night on the show Destination Truth... you know the show where they go look for the Yeti Foot or the ever dreaded chupa snowman... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were in the Kingdom of Bhutan is nestled in the eastern Himalaya Mountains looking for The yetible monster and found this Monk who had a personal experience with the creature. Low and behold right in the middle of the scene:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did that Monks cell phone just ring?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it had... best image EVER!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7292326875421081031?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7292326875421081031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/we-have-new-winner.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7292326875421081031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7292326875421081031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/we-have-new-winner.html' title='We have a new winner...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6262053018665034633</id><published>2009-11-04T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T21:41:06.025-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd like to teach the world to sing...</title><content type='html'>I usually don’t do much for the holidays, I mean I do go and celebrate, share time with friends and family. It has been a long time since I wanted to do those things. It is not like depression, heavens no. It is just a simple case of no motivation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are some things that trigger the holiday events for me. And the first one made it first showing tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa on a can of coke-a-cola… I started to think how far that went back… Turns out the tradition of Santa with a coke goes back to 1931… a lot of years before I was born. But it is by tradition that I drink the first can of coke with Santa on it I see. That can be a lot of trouble right there when it is someone else’s hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next tradition is to find the Oreo Christmas tin container… Although it seems like a good year to by pass that tradition as I would have to eat the cookies, and well to be blunt would just make me fatter. And if I’m going to get fatter it is going to be from a better cookie than an Oreo. Don’t get me wrong the Oreo cookie is a fine cookie… but with all the baking that will be going on… I might even get me a pumpkin roll this time around, if I can motivate my wife’s cousin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of and I think I have found a new cookie to add to my cookie plates it is called an Alabama Cookie and I will let you know about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that it will be all about the M&amp;M dispenser looks to be green girl shopping… meh maybe I will give that up this year as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I will find something new to collect… or maybe I will just keep what I have and let it sit at that. Well that’s all I have tonight…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6262053018665034633?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6262053018665034633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/id-like-to-teach-world-to-sing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6262053018665034633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6262053018665034633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/id-like-to-teach-world-to-sing.html' title='I&apos;d like to teach the world to sing...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-2797934693827784601</id><published>2009-11-03T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T22:13:30.132-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Got a little change in my pocket...</title><content type='html'>When I first left California I felt a little weird in the fact that things were not the same in Las Vegas as the were in Orange County. I could get drunk anytime of the day or night. I could eat a huge tasty breakfast for $1.99. My favorite was at Arizona Charlie’s Casino Ham steak and eggs. Ham slice that hung out over most of the plate, eggs toast and hash browns served on top of it, great coffee. Oh man I miss that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But times move on, things change, if you stand still to long you start to grow moss, and that’s how I felt in Vegas. I had to move on, I was just very unsure of where that would be. I thought for a while it was going to be back in Orange County, Or maybe Arizona. But no, I had to try and hang on to a woman who did not want me; oh she wanted things from me, money, security, support… but not love. She was/is totally incapable of feeling that for anyone other than herself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved up to Oregon, to help her father with a side business he had going on. I moved and waited for her… She would call and my heart would skip a beat. I found out she was coming up on vacation I damn near wet myself. This woman had me wrapped; worse part is I let her do it. I saw it happening, and did nothing to stop it. I think I kind of enjoyed it to be honest. I knew nothing would ever happen but yet I always hoped it would, kind of like the worst of both worlds. I had a girlfriend but she would not admit it. I was single but could not date in fear that something might happen and she would love me… I was safe, I did not have to take a chance, yes I was getting hurt but I knew that pain, and knew it well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I met my wife…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-2797934693827784601?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2797934693827784601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/got-little-change-in-my-pocket.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2797934693827784601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2797934693827784601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/got-little-change-in-my-pocket.html' title='Got a little change in my pocket...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6219477244449729193</id><published>2009-11-02T20:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T20:53:14.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>After That I Get Silly Like Soupy Sales</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://fisherofstories.blogspot.com/search/label/Memoir%20Monday/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh170/tstyles77/MemoirMonday-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m going to tell you about the time I had a night of life changing events. Several actually, and they truly changed my life, I never would have move to the Pacific Northwest, or Vegas, or Arizona. Hell I never would have left Southern California. I would have been trapped there with no visible means of support. Well in one night my life got set on a path that would twist and turn its way along the glorious vista that is my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a party, not just any party mind you, but my last party. Of course I did not know this at the time. I thought I was just getting friends together to drink and joke and have a good time. I invited several loose friends, people I would hang out with from time to time, and told them to spread the word. I told my closer friends that as well. I invited a special woman, I say woman as she was older, a mother of 2 and single, she was in her mid 30’s and here I was in my early 20’s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had spent my entire paycheck on booze, including a bottle of Bushmills for my special friend, which was all she would drink. I also got a large stock of wine coolers for the girls that would be coming, Bartels and James of course, nothing but the best for my guests. And beer for the boy’s and of courses all my friends’ favorite hard liquor. I order pizzas, and meat trays etc… I went broke doing this but it was going to be so much fun! Well that’s what I thought at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my friends were there to help me set up, then most went home to “get ready” for the party. I did the same, shit, shower shave. Put on my ever special Grey Flannel, I got my hair… lets just say I went metro sexual before it was ever thought of. I went back down stairs, the few friends whom did not go back to clean up were down in the living room. Talking of such inspiring thing like: My dick is so big… and your momma so fat… They were my best friends. Saw me through many trying times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I said screw it and started drinking the rum and coke specials that were my favorite, turns out they are called Cuba Libra’s. You know run and coke with a lime. We got to talking and more of my friends started to show up. I turned on the music; Judas Priest was what I started with. Anyway we all were getting a good drink on when we kind of realized that I never told anyone what time this thing was going to start. I thought great all this food and booze and my friends… I could have done this with out going broke. Ah well my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kept drinking, and the talking got loader and so did the music, soon we saw many people had joined us, both the front and back doors were wide open. Many of my neighbors had dropped in. Hell it was starting to look like a party. Tim, my friend Toms older brother dropped by with a friend and we poured them beers. Several of the females my friends were interested in came in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A loose friend named Bryan Hall showed up with a date, a smoking hot red head that made me forget all about my special friend coming over. This girls name was Audra… Red hair green eyes, porcelain doll complexion. Tall thin, made my jaw hit the floor. Now I did not want to have sex with her, well I did, but that was not the first thing I thought of. My first thought of her was she is too good for me…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my friends flying wingman and Bryan found himself the center of attention with friends asking him where he had been, what he had been doing and if he wanted a beer. Soon they got him out on the patio and Audra was left all alone at a party where she knew only the person who brought her… Did I mention I used to be really slimy? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I approached Audra with a confused look on my face… My smooth pick up line was: Hey I know all of Tim’s friends and I don’t recall seeing you around before. She stumbles over her words a bit, well if you don’t know Tim I think we will need to have you leave. She got this really worried look on her face. But I know Bryan…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Bryan… hmm I haven’t seen him here tonight… But tell you what I think Tim would like you so we will just let go ahead and stay. She seemed a bit relieved and I asked if she wanted something to drink. She asked if we had some fruity wine cooler… I said I think let me go check, and I will see if I can find Bryan for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the wine cooler stopped by Scott and said 15 more minutes please… Scott said he would try to entertain Bryan that much longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Back to Audra I went… And there she was, still sitting all alone. I handed her the wine cooler and sat down beside, we talked for a bit. I told her some of my corniest joke she giggled in the way female will giggle when they are interested in you. Finally I said say you came with Bryan yeah? She nodded, looking down. Is there anything between you two? She said, he is a really dear friend and he told her he need some company tonight, so she came with him. I commented how sweet that was of her. I said well I will go find him for you, but before I do here… I scribbled my number on a piece of paper and handed it to her. And I finally asked what her name was, she told me and asked my name, I said Tim… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I had always heard of red heads tempers but had never seen it up close and personal. She was very mad at me for making her think I would kick her out… I said I was sorry, but she stormed off… Bryan came around the corner just then she said to him; we are leaving now… and off she went into the night… I thought I had lost my angle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was rather saddened by that turn of event so I did what I normally do, I started drinking heavy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well about 45 minutes later I see Johnny walk in the door… now Johnny and I knew of each other but had never met. Johnny had this girlfriend named Jerri… now she was hot. Just plain hot, in a lusty type of way. Well she was not with him that night, as a matter of fact the last time I had seen her at that point was when I was drunk and hit on her. Should have known that would come back to bite me in the ass. But I was drunk, and I called him over to where I was drinking. I said Johnny my name is Tim and I would like to get you a drink, what would you like…&lt;br /&gt;I found out later he had come over to kick my ass for hitting on his girlfriend… But as he hung out with me he saw I was a nice guy… not sure how I fooled him. In any case Johnny and I soon became good friends. We hung out a lot over the next 10 years, but as soon as I left for Vegas we drifted apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around this time my special friend showed up. I did not see her at first. I spotted her talking with Tim Brandt, she saw me at the same time excused her self from Tim and came over to me. She grabbed onto my arm and gave me a peck on the lips… all of a sudden it was Audra who? Did what? No way?!? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I escorted her to the back of the house where few people were located. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of Bushmills I had purchased just for her. She looked at me and asked not to be left alone with Tim Brandt, she would not tell me what he had said or done but that was why she did what she did, to show him she was there with some one else. Still it had made me feel better, and I was all about the good feeling from that point on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sipped the Irish whiskey and to be honest it was the first time I tried it and I really liked it. We talked about Randy watching her house while she was away, and how she was happy that it was finally going to happen. She had wanted to go to Europe since before I met her. She never got the chance until now. I promised I would watch her house as well, make sure Randy was doing his job. Which was a joke all my friends shared, as Randy was Mr. Reliable, he was always where he said he would be when he said he would be. I think I miss him the most. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it started to warm up in side the house and she asked if I wanted to take a walk with her. As we departed Tim B. was hitting on some one else… We walked and talked for what seemed like hours. We paused outside of the pool area, and I had to ask: So do you want go swimming? She said she had packed her bathing suit already. Of course I said who needs suits? She said she couldn’t. I ask if she meant couldn’t or wouldn’t. She never did respond to that question, all she said was that she knew too many people around here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continued to walk and talk and at the next pause I worked up the nerve and moved in for a kiss… she kissed me back for a few seconds before she backed away. She didn’t say anything but I knew what had happened. I walk her back to her garage I gave her a hug and peck on the check and wished her well on her trip. It was her turn to surprise me. She leaned in and kissed me… I was stunned… I was confused… as the kiss ended she said good night and that she would see me in three weeks. I asked if she wanted company tonight, she politely declined. And we walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to my house drank until I passed out, my friends chased everyone out when the cops showed up, closed up the house and crashed them selves. Sometime after I passed out in my bed, and before the cops got there, Audra came back. She left me her number on a poster hanging in my room. No one saw her do this, but when I woke up in the morning, I saw it and called her. &lt;br /&gt;It took us 5 hours’ to clean the house. I am still wondering if I would have done something else that night would I have slept with my special friend, which would mean I would have to learn the lesson sometimes, no matter what the both of you want, it’s not going to happen. I do feel she wanted more from me but was scared she would have been labeled, and my friends would have hit on her. Which would have happened because I would start to brag and blah, blah, blah? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if Johnny would have kicked my ass if I had not been having a party. Would he have taken the time to see who I was and where I can be an ass hat, I am also the guy to call when no one else will show up? I wonder if he could have found it in his heart to make me his friend. I don’t think so, he would have kicked my ass and left, never to see me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I wonder if Audra hadn’t come back, would I have met her again? If not how would I have moved to Vegas, where I met Erin, which is how I moved to Portland, and met my wife? How would I have found out that some times women are mean and vindictive? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These three things shaped my life for the years to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6219477244449729193?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6219477244449729193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/after-that-i-get-silly-like-soupy-sales.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6219477244449729193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6219477244449729193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/after-that-i-get-silly-like-soupy-sales.html' title='After That I Get Silly Like Soupy Sales'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6721139794535341681</id><published>2009-11-02T02:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T02:29:41.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...Stole many a man's soul and fate...</title><content type='html'>I know I am posting late, hell I even missed the start of the month long post a day... I fail. I will tell the scariest story that changed my life. I know you will not think it is real, but again I was there and it really does not matter if you believe or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was living in a condominium complex located in Santa Ana California. It is still there and located on the corner of Greenville and Warner Ave. On Warner Ave and Fairview Street was located a mini mall with a Mini market located as one of the shops. It backed up to the rear wall of the condo complex and we were able to access the mini mall by hopping the wall. All along this was a long ally. Where we jumped the wall on the condo side was a smaller ally witch let out to  a street. Long ally was about 150 yards long, the short one was maybe 75 feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the center of the condo complex stands a small play ground, a grassy area which separates the play ground from the basket ball court and the pool area. It is really a wide open area, you cane see all 3 streets plus Greenville. I tell you all of this as you know what type of area I was in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three of us first met “Stan” behind the store as we were heading to it. Let me explain, Stan looked like a homeless black man in that he looked dirty and his hair was ratty. He did not smell, but he did have these really crazy looking eyes, and for the life of me I will never forget his face but I cannot remember his eyes. He also physically looked ripped not emaciated or worn down. He looked like he could rip me in half. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stan asked if we knew a guy named Martin... We had not, and I told him so. He said, you sure Tim? I said I never met a Martin and how did he know my name. He said, oh must be too early for that. And he started to walk away...I called to him again and asked how he knew my name, he said you all know that the crows are my friends. This stunned us, and we dashed around the corner. I peeked back and all I saw were three crows flying away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, as we did our thing around the park and pool area three crows were always in sight. Around eleven pm, they disappeared and 10 minutes later Stan came up to the pool gate and said Hey one of you guys have a smoke? Come on Tony I know you have one. Tony looked at me and I shrugged. We all walked over to the gate where he was and Tony handed him a smoke. He put it behind his ear and winked at Tony. He said thank and told us we would see him tomorrow. He walked away, I was reaching for the key to the gate and it got hung up a bit in my pocket, and I was shaking so hard it was difficult to get it into the lock. I got the gate open and we ran around the corner of the pool gate and no one was there. We did not say a word and we all went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we were over at Sean M.'s house, And as we were walking to the condo complex the more crows started following us. They would squawk every few minutes, and I would say that they were the same crows... but they are crows and I cannot tell them apart. We got about a block from the complex and the crows went away. We went in to the complex and sat on the park bench. Stan walked up to us from the north side, he said thanks for the smoke Tony it was good... He stopped in front of us  and just looked at us. Jeff asked how did he know our names, he replied: I told you, the crows are my friends, and proceeded to caw like a crow, sure enough 3 crows landed near by... we ran to Jeff's house.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never saw him again, and neither did Tony, Jeff refuses to acknowledge anything happened. I firmly believe it was demon... And I still keep an eye out for three crows flying together, or perched together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6721139794535341681?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6721139794535341681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/stole-many-mans-soul-and-fate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6721139794535341681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6721139794535341681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/11/stole-many-mans-soul-and-fate.html' title='...Stole many a man&apos;s soul and fate...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-1462389758658867682</id><published>2009-10-31T08:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T08:17:57.549-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ghosts'/><title type='text'>Under pressure...</title><content type='html'>Before I left California for the bright lights of Vegas. I lived with several friends, Tony, Sean and Johnny. 4 twenty something guys living in a 2 bedroom one bath apartment. It was glorious to say the least. One of the best times of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one drunken night, the others thought that it would be fun to play with a Ouija board. And what fun it was... for them. Silly me I was at work and had no idea what was going on. Well by the time I actually got home form work, Johnny was playing a video game with Sean and Tony had passed out. Which was fine as I shared a room with Tony so I just went into bed. Tony was out of it, I turned on the light and he did not even move. This made me chuckle as he would be badly hung over in the morning, and it was always much fun to mess with him when he was in that state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I got into bed Tony all of a sudden turned over, I don't mean slowly but like he jumped and flipped over... Well OK fine, as so as my head hit the pillow I started to dose off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I was in a deep sleep as I remember I was dreaming at the time, what woke me up is I felt some one sit on the edge of my bed. I told Tony to go back into his bed, sometimes when he was drunk he forgot where his bed was... very funny as we all slept in twin beds. Anyway, No response was given and I was about to sit up when I felt a pressure on my chest and it started to push down on me. I was finding it hard to draw a breath and the pressure just kept pushing me further into the bed. I felt the bed give a little on the other side of me and the pressure increased even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point it was impossible for me to inhale or exhale as all the air had been pushed out of my lungs. I tried to move my arms to get away and I could not move them either. I really began to try and move... I could do nothing to get away from it. I took the only option, at least in my mind, that I had open to me. I prayed, I prayed for protection, I prayed for mercy, I even prayed that this thing would not touch anyone else... And it was gone, so fast that I actually threw my self up out of bed and landed on the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there for a moment, thanking God for his mercy... Tony looked up at me and asked: Did it get you too? And passed back out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cussed him out for three days straight before I found out about the Ouija board... Then I cussed the three of them out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed in that room for a few more weeks and that was the only event on Adams Street as we call it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still kinds of creeps me out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-1462389758658867682?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1462389758658867682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/under-pressure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1462389758658867682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1462389758658867682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/under-pressure.html' title='Under pressure...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5482642110919781549</id><published>2009-10-29T20:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T20:48:30.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Never did I wanna be here again</title><content type='html'>Since Halloween is a few days away, and I have posted exactly ZERO historical events, I will now start to post some of the real life scary stuff that plagued me when I was younger… I have 3 solid events, one lasting over several days. Now I know 3 events does not make a plague, but what you need to understand is that what ever started these events had been living in my peripheral vision for several years after. I would see things skirt my vision, I would hear my name called out, things would move on their own. Nothing more than that, it just seemed it wanted to bug me, tease me kind of thing. I only had one minor scratch appear, but it was on my eyelid so I still have the scar from it… some 20 years later and I still have the scar, go figure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this is that story, where I got the scar. There were some events leading up to this, one of my friends had thought they had become obsessed, like in the current movie Paranormal Activity, good movie btw. Well I was a joiner then so we and one other friend started trying to figure out how to get rid of this thing. We did research in libraries, we asked priests and ministers. We called, talk or wrote anyone we thought could help us remove this thing. We got very few answers back. We had just enough information to make us think we new what to do, but nothing set in stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was long before I found God. I was a drift in the spiritual sea of guesstimation… meaning I thought I knew what I believed in. Again I had no clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well on thing lead to another, and we ran into a preacher from a local church, funny enough it was to be the church that I was saved in years later. Well he said he could pray over my friend and have the demon move on… We jumped at the chance. We all started praying… this went on for just a few minutes before my friend had gone pail, and started to sweat. Now my other friend said she had gotten cold as well, me I felt a little warmer than I had when I came in. Well looking back I think we just pissed it off, as what happened to me that night is what my post is about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night I was heading to bed, I was the last one up in the house. As I climbed the stairs some one tapped my front door. The front door was at the base of the steps, Well I turn, go down the steps and open the door… nothing… nothing at all. I figure I imagined it, so I turned and went to bed. Now the Head of my bed was directly under my window, my window was always open unless it was raining. So I lay back close my eyes and heard some one call my name. Now this was not a big deal as many people would do just that to wake me up if they needed me. So I look down into the alley and no one is there. I call out, “What?” No response… I look some more and nothing. Ok I started to feel kind of weird but ok, just hearing things… As I close the blinds I heard wings flapping, not normal wing mind you, not like bird wings, but more like bat wings, very kind of leathery slapping together sounding. And not huge wings either fast beating wings, but I had never heard them there before. Well I get a bit up tight, and go wash my face in the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get back into bed, and start to drift off to sleep. I was having one of those twilight dreams; you know the thoughts as you are drifting in sleep, the ones that are almost dreams? Yeah I was floating… floating above a huge dark pit…. Just floating… it was then this really gross looking butterfly, I mean it looked like an oozy scab, landed on my nose, in the dream that is. It woke me up and I opened my eyes and I was close enough to the ceiling to brush my nose on it… I mean I got an up close look at the popcorn of the ceiling, and next thing I knew I fell back down onto my bed. I mean I fell 4’or 5’ feet back onto the bed. It sent me so hard back down that I cracked on of the supports for the box springs. Well my heart is beating now faster than it had in a long time. I sat up and looked to my closed door, this is when I saw the figure walk into the wall that made up my closet. I could make out the face and a few more details before it was gone, but it had only been there for a few seconds. I turned on my light and looked all over my room, in the hall, in my closet and found no one. I found nothing but a little bit of ceiling popcorn on my bed, that was it. I turned on my TV and started watching whatever the hell was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did eventually fall back to sleep that night, but I fell asleep with the lights and TV on. Four strange things happened the next morning that cemented the even in my mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first opened my eyes I realized I could one open one, the other was kind of soar. When I looked at it in the mirror I saw I had a scratch on my eye lid and that it had become infected. Now I have never had an infection come on that red and swollen that fast. I looked like a bee had stung me, but I did not feel it last night, but my eye was swollen shut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights and TV were off… I know I had left them on, and I do not sleep walk. But both the over head and the lamp were off as well as the TV. I have no proof of either of these but I know I left them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last thing happened a few hours after I was awake, my sister started yelling at me about how load it was when I jumped into bed, she said it scared her really bad… yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is event #1. Believe it or don’t, doesn’t matter to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5482642110919781549?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5482642110919781549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/never-did-i-wanna-be-here-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5482642110919781549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5482642110919781549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/never-did-i-wanna-be-here-again.html' title='Never did I wanna be here again'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-2190635747699450753</id><published>2009-10-20T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T20:59:19.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the doorway the bullets rip</title><content type='html'>For someone who has never been in the military, or police force. I have seen the business end of a gun way to many times, and been shot at way to many times. Of course one time is way too many times, and I am very thankful that both times I was shot at the shooter had poor aim. And the funny thing is I have been shot at more times than I have been hit with a fist… go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time, I was working at a fast food restaurant called Nagels, they are now closed. I worked the graveyard drive thru shift. Lots of drunks and police officers were our main source of customers during that shift. Well we got thru the rush and we were taking a smoke break in the dinning room when a single guy on a really nice Harley pulls up to the drive thru window. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jump up, because I was done smoking and took his order; I know it was something easy because I told the rest of the crew not to worry. I make and serve him his food and he takes off. I went back to the dinning room to try and figure out who was going to do what cleaning, and I hear a tap on the glass, I turn and it is the biker with a bright and shinny 45 auto… at least that’s what it looked like. He acted like he pulled the trigger and rode off. So I called the police and told them the description… blah, blah, blah… they swing by to let me know they were out looking and would soon catch him… Last I heard of it so yeah. But we gave the cops a free meal…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time was a simple robbery at a Red Lobster in Vegas… I was lucky enough to be put in charge of getting the money… I didn’t even work there; I was just hitting on the cashier… Now I thought that guy was going to shoot me… he didn’t but they did get away… He had what looked like a Saturday night special, as the old 70’s cop shows called them. Snub nose .38 I think. Very nervous guy, kind of jumpy, that’s why I thought he was going to shoot me. He didn’t I did ask him to put it away, we knew he had it and we would give him the money… well he got it and left… police showed up and said they would look into it… And again the cops got a free meal…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that same year was the, 1992, was the Rodney King riots… and I stuck my nose where it did not belong. A friend and I decided to go look at where all the rioting was, it was rather strange to see all these buildings burning, windows broken and good people just walking off with stuff… cars flipped over and on fire… Anyway, we turn and on our right, by the way I was a passenger on this ride, were a large group of people, many of whom had guns in their hands… many guns as a matter of fact…Well the driver punched it just as one of the group brought up a gun and pulled the trigger. Now it must have been a small caliber as it did not penetrate the door skin, but if they rounds would have I would have been hit 3 times in the thigh… I did not find this out till we went back to get the car, see where they did not penetrate the door one round did hit the back tire. We got about 2 blocks away before we could go no further. We pulled over next to a mini truck that had been in front of us. Just then a cop car full of riot geared officers screeched to a halt, and told us to get the hell out of there. The driver of the pick up offered us a ride in the back, and we said THANK YOU, and hopped in the back. I am thinking no free meal for the officers that night…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well a few days later just as calming down, I was at work, 7-11. And a shot range out from the parking lot and shattered one of the front windows. Now I did not see who fired the gun or where they fired from, but as I was the only person in the store at the time, I feel safe in thinking someone was trying to shoot me. And I gave the responding cops free coffee and donuts… least I could do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let’s see, the last time, I was tending bar in Vegas, by the Hard Rock Café. I regular named Violet was in and she had been having issues with her significant other. She walked out to go home. All of a sudden I hear her start screaming, I run out and her old man has the gun pointed in her face with one hand, and his other hand is on her throat. I yell at him to let her go. He turns and looks at me… I thought, I am going to get shot… right here at work… he lets her go. I tell Violet to go back into the bar and call the cops, she does. He looks at me, while pointing the gun at me… and me with out any way to protect myself, and says: I’m sorry… I don’t want any trouble from you… I am going to go home… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this day, I do not know why he did not shoot me or why he thought I would be able to give him trouble… But that was the last time to I dealt with the hostile end of a gun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-2190635747699450753?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2190635747699450753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/out-of-doorway-bullets-rip.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2190635747699450753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2190635747699450753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/out-of-doorway-bullets-rip.html' title='Out of the doorway the bullets rip'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4605291642475674381</id><published>2009-10-19T23:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T00:42:52.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>at the old ball game</title><content type='html'>This may shock you, but I do like some sports. Some sports I only like when you can see them live. Baseball being one of them, but to watch it on TV or hear it on the radio... shoot me now please God... boring as yacht racing... paint drying comes to mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be that as it may, I am not a big follower of any sport, but that does not mean I do not like them. Now here is my story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://fisherofstories.blogspot.com/search/label/Memoir%20Monday/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i256.photobucket.com/albums/hh170/tstyles77/MemoirMonday-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long ago, one late May afternoon, I was brought to a park where I was to be playing little league. Many of my school chums were there and of course my mitt was well oiled and loved. I began to toss the ball around with one of my friends from school. As the ball sail back and forth between us I began to think how long it had been since I played… maybe a year, maybe a year and a half. It had become a long year for me. Well it should make no difference; I was as good as my friends… I had thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the coach and his assistant come out to give us the warm up speech… you know the one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no “I” in T E A M… but there is in meat pie, which has a T E A M in it as well… blah, blah, blah, heart, blah, blah, doesn’t matter if we win, blah, blah, blah, need team spirit… Now go out there and let’s see what you got…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this man, coach, is the reason sports for children had to change. He was the “a-typical” alpha male. He wore his uniform from the previous year out to see what his new team could do. Don’t worry I run in to him again when I am older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it went, running drills, sliding drills. Hitting, catching more running. In the end I had several days invested into this team already, mind you prime time, time too. Right after school, parents were not home yet, I could run free… I could… do stuff…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well along came Friday, and my Big Brother, of the organization not by birth, picked me up from school. I thought wow great Dick is going to take me to practice. No he was not a dick, his name was Richard, and he liked being called Dick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jumped into the car, said my hello’s and we pulled away from the curb Dick asked if I was hungry. Well yeah, was going to run home grab some food and run to practice… well really walk. He said ok lets go to Denny’s… should have seen it right there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sit down; I get my soda and a burger. Dick orders coffee, see that’s where I get the coffee habit cause that is all he ever drank. And he begins to tell me how he had talked with the coach, and how he felt that I would be better served to go play with 9 year olds, or not to play at all… I could go play with 9 year olds… I was 13, and a big 13 at that… was to step down and play with much smaller and younger boys… I was bemused with this, surely I was as good as my friends… how could he not want me on his team… Yeah I was pudgy but I could run, I could catch, hit slide…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a while to figure out what happened, like several years, where as I was able to play with my friends, my friends were better than me. The thing that made it kind of last much longer than it should have, the ass-hat told my friends why I was not on the team, and the choice I had been given. They stopped playing with me, oh it dragged on for a few weeks, but eventually they stopped. Lost touch with them over that summer just stopped caring I guess. Made new friends, found new things to do, places to go, trouble to get into… but I never did put that glove back on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4605291642475674381?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4605291642475674381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/at-old-ball-game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4605291642475674381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4605291642475674381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/at-old-ball-game.html' title='at the old ball game'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-1546951979443446567</id><published>2009-10-16T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T07:38:23.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't know much about history...</title><content type='html'>Back a few years ago, 1982 IIRC, I was lucky enough to have been placed into a normal class. Until this point everyone had said I was hyperactive, past speak for ADD. In truth I was bored, which made me lazy. Which made me look for shiny things to play with to make the day go by.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I am not talking genius level intelligence or anything like that. Just a bit advanced, I made connections very quickly, saw patterns almost immediately. I learned to read and write with out ever doing any of the work my other classmates did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, turns out this teacher would not let me return to my normal level classes, she would not let me leave her class. She was under the silly impression that I would do her class work and home work, take her tests etc... And I didn't, all this did was make me unable to pass the class. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had become used to not having to work to achieve decent grades. It took me several years to realize she was not being mean, but rather trying to get me to do what she knew I could. For a long time I disliked her, no hated, because of my hubris I hated an educator. This is one of the few regrets I have in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I now believe that a good educator should always be respected. Miss Hamquist I am sorry, and thank you for trying...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-1546951979443446567?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1546951979443446567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/dont-know-much-about-history.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1546951979443446567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1546951979443446567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/dont-know-much-about-history.html' title='Don&apos;t know much about history...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4661748483951549825</id><published>2009-10-16T01:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T01:45:53.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...</title><content type='html'>I seem to have a lot of issues with anger these days. And seeing as I’m trying to reduce my BP, I need to figure out what is going on. To that turn, I ran across an ex of mine. She is doing well, and I found a current photo of her. I found myself starting to itch around the neck, usually means I am getting angry. For no reason, I have not seen this woman since I lived in Vegas, and I was mad at her. Some 15 years later and I am still mad… This is not right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I mad at her, well she did not treat me well, and I did not ask her to treat me better so it is my fault I took it. She does not owe me money, she did not “ruin” my life. Why do I carry a grudge? Why do I even care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to help me out, I am going to talk of my childhood, good bad and ugly. That is what I will be doing for a few days or more. And again try to become a better person because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will start by telling of the time when I was two, yes two. It is the only memory I have from that long ago, really my earliest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems my sister and I, late one afternoon, decided that it would be a good idea to go ahead and get the cookies mom had placed on the top shelf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That would require some cabinet climbing and some counter shimmying. But low and behold, I had made it, with my sister cheering me ever onward. I crawled around the stove top, and got into position right in front of the top cabinet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the bottom of the cabinet may have hit my waist, but more than likely it hit my belly. Well I got my knee on the lowest ledge and started to shimmy as best I could. I got my second knee planted and started to stand up. I worked my little hands up the center divider, and started to reach for the brass ring…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Stgxgdve8bI/AAAAAAAAAA4/zl8wuauUT_0/s1600-h/spider1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 159px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393114987585532338" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Stgxgdve8bI/AAAAAAAAAA4/zl8wuauUT_0/s320/spider1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was almost there, and my sister said something I looked over my shoulder at her, and I swear, to this day I swear I saw the spider from Gilligan’s Island, the big one… big ugly scary big one… the one Gilligan tried to free the bird and it attacked the spider and saved the castaways? No? Nothing? Well it was a big ugly hairy thing and it was standing right behind my sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I let go of the center divider to cover my eyes out of fear, and that’s when I fell, I fell like 5’ (lowest shelf in the cabinet is where my feet were). And I remember thinking, on my way down, it’s gonna get me… its gonna eat me… and my head hit the tile of the kitchen floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the next few days my head hurting, and that’s about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now because of that stupid spider, I am 98% deaf in my left ear, I get strange headaches, at least the way other people describe them, mine are always more like sinus headaches and I never get other kinds. You know the ones that start at the base of the skull and swarm over like an invasion force… yeah I don’t get those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also mark this incident as to why my sense of humor is sort of twisted and off beat. And according to my mother it is the reason I am lazy… hate to break it to her, but I just think I am lazy, and would have been lazy… at least in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that stupid spider is why I cannot hear stereo, why I find it hard to locate some due to sound, and why I have a hard time hearing in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks creepy spider…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4661748483951549825?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4661748483951549825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-seem-to-have-lot-of-issues-with-anger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4661748483951549825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4661748483951549825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-seem-to-have-lot-of-issues-with-anger.html' title='Just sit right back and you&apos;ll hear a tale...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Stgxgdve8bI/AAAAAAAAAA4/zl8wuauUT_0/s72-c/spider1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8948192414981821059</id><published>2009-10-13T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T21:08:47.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The doctor will see you now...</title><content type='html'>Why is this not ever said anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember as a child going to see Dr. Altman his nurse would say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK cutey, the doctor will see you now. (even then I was good at charming people)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have memories of those times, the last time I remember going to him I was 15 and my aunt wanted me to have the sex talk with him... everything he told me I already new from health class, what I did not know was how to get some... Later I did link charming to that particular problem and it started working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I went to see my new doctor, thanks Kaiser, nice guy, younger than me but very effective at getting you to put that aside, well at least for me. I felt I could trust him. Funny thing BP was 130/80... last week it was 19807960679876/98 some thing like that... I feel I am going in the right direction with my health anyway. Still need to take the meds for the BP but nothing else so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still do not smoke, and I can breath. So now I need to start moving more, and that is just what I will be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will let you know...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8948192414981821059?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8948192414981821059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/doctor-will-see-you-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8948192414981821059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8948192414981821059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/doctor-will-see-you-now.html' title='The doctor will see you now...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8170202956407835205</id><published>2009-10-05T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T22:13:29.419-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blatherings'/><title type='text'>Shhh... I'm thinking</title><content type='html'>But not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much flying around my head, what with the capture of the Pedophile known as Roman Polanski. The bile I still taste from the loss or rather the removal of a friend from my life. To the fact that work has not changed and will not change anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, why do I car about Roman Polanski? It is really none of my bussiness at all. I hold him in no great degree of esteem. I find the fact he dodge out on his sentence silly, it would have been doen and over with by the time the 80's hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nor do I care about his art. Well I do, but in no way should it be a reason to not be held accountable. It does not elevate him above the rest of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what angers me the most is the fact that the hollywood elite think they are above the common man. That they some how have a better veiw of the world from thier door step. I would suggest you loose the idea that you will be able to change anything for a very long time. You are in the minority and people resent you for it. You screwed up, you should have stayed silent. But now the groups who you supported and vice-versa are now yelling at you to sit down and shut up. How is it you can cry ov er the horrible act of rape around the world, be out raged at any mistreatment of women, and still say: Roman Polanski is a humanist. I do feel sorry for those people now, I have a very low opinion of humanists. So yeah sit down, stop back peddeling because it was not a youthful mistake, it was not a moral choice and it was rape-rape. Thats all I have to say on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as my friend being removed... Well it was time, we both grew older and further apart. I tried to be understanding and loving, but he simple refused to except that God moves me, to him this is well just utter nonsence and must be ridculed because of it. In short he insulted me, my wife my other friends and stood on his "ethical" ground that I was the asshole, the unforgiving the ever devouring conservative. So yeah... I do hope you find God before you smell sulfur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And work, well it will be at least 5 years, given that the same personel remain, until we get a change. But, I do my job and go home to my loving wife. and I post this here now as a proof:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her Birthday is October 10th, I did not forget, we are going to the coast for a kite festival.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8170202956407835205?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8170202956407835205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/shhh-im-thinking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8170202956407835205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8170202956407835205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/10/shhh-im-thinking.html' title='Shhh... I&apos;m thinking'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6530022230086817655</id><published>2009-09-17T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T18:09:54.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Open letter to an ass</title><content type='html'>Oh so "they" are below you because they use humor as a way to deal with tough issues?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because "they" crack jokes between friends "they" take glee in killing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"They" would not get your, how Muslim of you, Jab? Insult? Joke? (I am unclear what your intentions are with this line) but surely you would be the only one bright enough to make or get such a joke... Or maybe that was the point from the beginning; no way can “they” be that bright… After all “they do not have your advanced education level, as a matter of fact “they” sound like a blue collar worker. The lot of them are just plain ignorant of the world around them and are completely incapable of learning anything new!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake the hell up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tell us we should live greener, yet my carbon foot print has always been smaller than yours and to date, due to my efforts, the projects I spearheaded to date have removed the equivalent of 50 cars from the road. What have you done besides pick up an unemployment check?&lt;br /&gt;Well, all I can say is I am glad you are here to save us all from ourselves...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I am done with you. No more will I stand to be looked down on by the likes of you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6530022230086817655?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6530022230086817655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/09/open-letter-to-ass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6530022230086817655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6530022230086817655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/09/open-letter-to-ass.html' title='An Open letter to an ass'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3404947986681490370</id><published>2009-08-15T01:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T01:37:24.134-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WoW'/><title type='text'>And now I feel dirty</title><content type='html'>Seems WoW has been leaking info on its new expantion, well maybe. It could all be made up. It could be correct. But either way it is in no way a complete list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still waiting on the next hero class&lt;br /&gt;Still waiting on new dances (And for this I say DAMN YOU BLIZZ!)&lt;br /&gt;New features&lt;br /&gt;New pay for service features&lt;br /&gt;etc&lt;br /&gt;etc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that I am having a good time. been working many hours and find I no longer really care what happens at work. I will come in do my job and go home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3404947986681490370?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3404947986681490370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-now-i-feel-dirty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3404947986681490370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3404947986681490370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/and-now-i-feel-dirty.html' title='And now I feel dirty'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3723222411985423662</id><published>2009-08-07T01:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T01:34:38.510-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holy roller'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I only care about'/><title type='text'>You have been found wanting...</title><content type='html'>No really, I have a problem with some people... I know never would have guessed. But these folks like to set themselves up as my better, when they have done nothing better than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a man of faith, not religion. I know God is real just as I know the sky is blue. I know my moral compass is set off of the teachings of the bible, and for that reason alone, do not change. I have studied the bible, at great lengths I have studied the bible, and the Maccabees. And for the most part I have studied the code of cannon law. Kind of reads like the tax laws, but you can get the gist of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if anyone ever asked I would be more than happy to tell them how I fell into most of these teachings. But this does not make me better than anyone else. There are people more learned than me. And people who are sillier than me. But this is what I know. This is what I have learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that we have that straight maybe we can talk...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3723222411985423662?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3723222411985423662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-have-been-found-wanting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3723222411985423662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3723222411985423662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-have-been-found-wanting.html' title='You have been found wanting...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5781935458262631448</id><published>2009-07-30T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T23:32:33.702-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='iMac'/><title type='text'>So I took a bite...</title><content type='html'>And now let me tell you, my new &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;iMac&lt;/span&gt; is pure win. The set up on it was like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Remove computer from box, and place on desk.&lt;br /&gt;2. Plug in; power, keyboard, mouse and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Ethernet&lt;/span&gt; cable.&lt;br /&gt;3. Turn on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After you turn it on, it walks you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; some short little thing, and you set up your user account etc, maybe 5 minutes total. And boom, I was on line and downloading wow. (Much easier to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;DL&lt;/span&gt; it than to use the discs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it did not dawn on me until right now. I got on the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; with out a huge hassle. Last few time we got a new PC it was at least an hour trying to figure out how to get it to open to the web...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nuff&lt;/span&gt; said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5781935458262631448?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5781935458262631448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-i-took-bite.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5781935458262631448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5781935458262631448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-i-took-bite.html' title='So I took a bite...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8491063899124602568</id><published>2009-07-29T22:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T23:10:31.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Apple a day...</title><content type='html'>Well it got here today. The Apple of my eye LOL. I never thoguht about a new computer purchase as being this important. I have, since posting on Facebook that my Mac had arived, been insulted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who cares, people will give me grief over the strangest things. But I am just here to say how very happy I am that I now have my Mac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now soon you canhear me complain about not bieng able to do stuff cause I don't know how!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8491063899124602568?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8491063899124602568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/apple-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8491063899124602568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8491063899124602568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/apple-day.html' title='An Apple a day...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3385687171177065036</id><published>2009-07-27T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T00:23:09.923-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I only care about'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teh past'/><title type='text'>Sierra Hotel India Tango</title><content type='html'>You know I have lived in lots of different types of towns all around the west coast. I am very happ where I am at right now, but I do miss somethings from the other areas. Silly things, some things that did not even register until I left the area. So here is my list of things I miss and where I miss them from and why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ocean breeze-Huntington Beach, CA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never thought I would miss this, but it is kind of nice to know when it is hot, the sun beating down on you and all of a sudden that breeze kicks in... pure heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The vast amount of different things to do-Santa Ana, CA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this location, and a few city's around it, you can be a great many places really rather fast. Beach, mountains, hiking, shopping, LA, Tijauna. Hell with in 4 hours you can be in Vegas. It is a great central location to be based out of. A solid public transportation, airports, trainstations etc... If I was going to build a world HQ it would be in Santa Ana California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Late night anything-Las Vegas, NV&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly 24 hours a day 7 days a week. All things are possible. I used to work a swing shift, I would leave work about 1am. Now where in the hell am I going to cash my check... Oh Yeah AZ Charlie's here I come. Want to drink oh yeah ALL the bars are open. Want to drink, chat, get laid? Oh yeah SINCITY! Now really what I am missing most is the late night Starbucks BS festivals. We would sit on the patio, playing cribbage, smoking cigars. Oh yeah, the warm breeze blowing in off the dessert, the night sky with all the lights. And no one even acting like it was strange. I do really miss that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The silence-Bullhead City, AZ&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how it got so very very quit in the early evening, you could almost hear the river from blocks away. This is where I learnd to love the dessert landscape, as the sunset crept away and the silence began to take hold. It was almost like the sand would catch on fire just for an instance. Then the flood of moonlight would put it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friends and family-Mission Veijo, CA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was raised, and lived in California for the better part of my life. I moved away just as I was turni9ng 25. California had offered me very few options and because of my being an idiot, I blew them all. So I left to start over. But I had to leave all I knew behind. Scariest thing I had ever done, but my friends were behind me 100%. My family thought I was insane, but hell the whole lot of them never traveled oputside the state... except during wartime. And I do miss them all very much, my brother and sister having children and now they are grown and have little need of me. Friends got married/divorced and I was not there to party with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thats all I have time for now, there will be more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3385687171177065036?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3385687171177065036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/sierra-hotel-india-tango.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3385687171177065036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3385687171177065036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/sierra-hotel-india-tango.html' title='Sierra Hotel India Tango'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8333302428037165660</id><published>2009-07-23T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T23:00:05.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop what you are doing, get down apon your knees, I have a message for you. You better believe</title><content type='html'>Why is it that when you think all is going as it should the other shoe drops? I have 2 things in my head today. Both of these things could make my pet peeves list, but their scope is way too immense to put on that level. Meaning, they are too important, these things will have an effect on the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Worthington’s of Oregon City were found mostly not guilty on charges of Manslaughter in the faith healing death of their 15 month old daughter. See she had a blood infection and pneumonia. Easy to treat, no blood transfusions needed, I know cheap shot at other sects that reject Doctors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well people I am here to tell you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God will heal you if you have faith. But only if that faith is strong enough, only if that faith is 100% unshakable. If it is, well then you suck and are going to die a painful agonizing death all while being mocked by the church that you attend and give 10%, and always go to the work around the church days! Because you did not believe enough…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK I have now taken the tongue from my check and will tell you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop doing that, just stop. Yes Pray, use your faith and your love. These things are important to the healing process. But come on, no doctors? We, in Portland, just had another 16 year old boy die from a bladder infection. Now you must kill another child?  Here is one for you, did you know Luke yeah the one in the New Testament was a physician? Yeah, one of Gods chosen 12 was a doctor. But now we need to have faith to be healed? I think the medical profession is fine and plays its part in our world as does faith, and love and laughter as well as nature. These things all joined together helps you heal. But then again, sometimes it is your time to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion they should have gotten jail time. The father will, maybe as long as a year! That will teach them…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing seems some French factory works have taken their bosses and kidnapped them. Oh how I dream of this, but just dream. They are only doing their jobs, they have to make cuts. If you get cut in the first round, you were a slacker, or low on seniority. Second round, you were one of those boarder line people, good job one day, rather lax the next. Third round, this is tough as you are a good worker, just not the superstar they were hoping to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But come on people, you keep doing this and the bosses will start carrying knifes, fire arms etc. They will start to fight back, and then people will get hurt. This will be bad for all workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me, I understand but cannot condone this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8333302428037165660?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8333302428037165660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/stop-what-you-are-doing-get-down-apon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8333302428037165660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8333302428037165660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/stop-what-you-are-doing-get-down-apon.html' title='Stop what you are doing, get down apon your knees, I have a message for you. You better believe'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3895996403518600160</id><published>2009-07-22T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T22:45:47.392-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pet peeves'/><title type='text'>A few things</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;These things bug the living hell right out of me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Forest fires:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man made put them out. Natural, let them burn, protect lives and property, but other than that let it burn. It grows back; this is how the forests renew themselves. All part of the greater plan, nothing man does will last for ever if left alone. we push at nature and it pushes back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Beauty contests for children:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;In no way is this entertainment, in no way does this help society, in no way is this thing even respectable for any reason. The mothers that push their daughters into this do just that PUSH! FORCE! COMPEL! The most important thing into posing for pedophiles, And don't even try to say no it is all about inner beauty or anything other than giving the pedophiles something to get off over. These little girls are encouraged to put on sexy outfits and pose in provocative ways and then what blow kisses? WAKE THE FUCK UP! You are doing nothing but pimping your daughter out and should be in jail for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hot water heaters:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? Are we going to heat the hot water? We might pre-heat our water but we will never heat our hot water. I would rather you call it a boiler than a hot water heater, because it is closer to describing what it really does much more than a hot water heater. Maybe even a hot water tank, but never a hot water heater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that’s some of what pisses me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3895996403518600160?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3895996403518600160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/few-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3895996403518600160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3895996403518600160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/few-things.html' title='A few things'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5358228119338010717</id><published>2009-07-01T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T20:54:28.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Computer decided...</title><content type='html'>that it no longer wanted to function in a manner that is consistent with reality. Gonna buy me a new one. But after a long, long time looking and many &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;discussions&lt;/span&gt; I have opted for plan B. I am going to go with an &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Imac&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will let you know how that goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the 4&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt; of July, well it is my 10&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt; anniversary. Gonna go see fireworks at the coast. Will be great fun, it always is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As well as getting into Geocaching, I think that is how it is spelled been rather tied up and not the good way either. Lots of walking outdoors and fresh air and sunshine and OH GOD, HILLS! ALWAYS WITH THE UP HILLS! But it is fun. If you are looking for a reason to be outside try it. All you need is a map and a GPS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well thats about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5358228119338010717?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5358228119338010717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/computer-decided.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5358228119338010717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5358228119338010717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/07/computer-decided.html' title='Computer decided...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4605682583980331550</id><published>2009-05-28T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T21:58:56.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still going</title><content type='html'>I have to say I really thought by now one of two things would have happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cravings for smoking would have gone away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have started smoking again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither of which has really happened. I still have not smoked and simple won't because I do not think I can go thru this again. But I really expected to have the craving gone, they have mostly but every once in a while it is like a wave washes over me. I feel really drawn to smoke. I tell myself: Just a few more months, I just want to quit for 6 months then I can start again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets hope I remember that I don't want to smoke when the 6 months hit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, I just cannot picture going thru all of this again, so it is easier to say no, but it still comes up. A friend of mine at work quit smoking back in 91, and he told me about once a year he gets it in his head to smoke, but like me he does not want to go thru it all over again. So in the mean time I stand firm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more day of non-smoking under my belt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4605682583980331550?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4605682583980331550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/still-going.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4605682583980331550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4605682583980331550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/still-going.html' title='Still going'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-204289369540433676</id><published>2009-05-21T18:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T18:53:21.671-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing along time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Nibblin' on sponge cake &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Watchin' the sun bake &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;All of those tourists covered with oil &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Strummin' my six-string &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;On my front porch swing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Smell those shrimp they're beginnin' to boil &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Chorus: Wastin' away again in Margaritaville &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Searching for my lost shaker of salt &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Some people claim that there's a woman to blame &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;But I know it's nobody's fault &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I don't know the reason &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I stayed here all season &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Nothin' to show but this brand new tattoo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;But it's a real beauty &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;A Mexican cutie &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;How it got here I haven't a clue &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Chorus: Wastin' away again in Margaritaville &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Some people claim that there's a woman to blame &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Now I think Hell, it could be my fault &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;I blew out my flip-flop &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Stepped on a pop-top &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Cut my heel had to cruise on back home &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;But there's booze in the blender &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;And soon it will render &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;That frozen concoction that helps me hang on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Wastin' away again in Margaritaville &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Searching for my lost shaker of salt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt; Some people claim that there's a woman to blame &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;But I know it's my own damn fault &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Yes and some people claim that there's a woman to blame &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;And I know it's my own damn fault&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-204289369540433676?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/204289369540433676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/sing-along-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/204289369540433676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/204289369540433676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/sing-along-time.html' title='Sing along time'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7738203225733162730</id><published>2009-05-21T18:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T18:42:20.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing worth while is easy</title><content type='html'>So I was asked why I don’t just take things at face value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got into a discussion of what is un-health for an expectant mother to eat. Well this one is a very close friend who has been craving salt as of late. I found this stuff at Costco called Pub Snacks. This stuff is horrible as far as health food. High sodium and fat, low nutritional value, but hey I figure a little to help a pregnant lady stay sane for just a moment longer would be just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well she dug into them, and then looked at me and asked, “Do they have MSG in them?” A was shocked. I thought why would it matter a little MSG would not hurt her or the baby…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the talk continued, she said no MSG is very bad for you, I asked where she had gotten her information. Back and forth, over and over again, I got up and walked to my terminal and googled MSG, here is what I found from The Mayo Clinic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Every Chinese restaurant I go to has a sign that says "No MSG." What is&lt;br /&gt;MSG? Is it bad for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Answer&lt;br /&gt;from Katherine Zeratsky, R.D.,&lt;br /&gt;L.D. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monosodium glutamate (MSG) is a flavor enhancer commonly added to&lt;br /&gt;Chinese food, canned vegetables, soups and processed meats. Although the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has classified MSG as a food ingredient that is "generally recognized as safe," the use of MSG remains controversial. MSG has been used as a food additive for decades. Over the years, the FDA has received many anecdotal reports of adverse reactions to foods containing MSG. But subsequent research found no definitive evidence of a link between MSG and the symptoms that some people described after eating food containing MSG. As a result, MSG is still added to some foods. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A comprehensive review of all available scientific data on glutamate safety sponsored by the FDA in 1995 reaffirmed the safety of MSG when consumed at levels typically used in cooking and food manufacturing. The report found no evidence to suggest that MSG contributes to any long-term health problems, such as Alzheimer's disease. But it did acknowledge that some people may have short-term reactions to MSG. These reactions — known as MSG symptom complex — may include: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Headache, sometimes called MSG headache &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Flushing &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Sweating &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Sense of facial pressure or tightness &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Numbness, tingling or burning in or around the mouth &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Rapid, fluttering heartbeats (heart palpitations) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Chest pain &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Shortness of breath &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Nausea &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;§ Weakness &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Symptoms are usually mild and don't require treatment. However, some people report more severe reactions. The only way to prevent a reaction is to avoid foods containing MSG. When MSG is added to food, the FDA requires that "monosodium glutamate" be listed on the label — or on the menu, in restaurants. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Original Artical: &lt;a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/monosodium-glutamate/AN01251"&gt;http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/monosodium-glutamate/AN01251&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;All because some pansy way back when said, Chinese food gives me a headache, we now “think” MSG will kill us… And I thought I was a hypochondriac.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7738203225733162730?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7738203225733162730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/nothing-worth-while-is-easy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7738203225733162730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7738203225733162730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/nothing-worth-while-is-easy.html' title='Nothing worth while is easy'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-2618653384105063871</id><published>2009-05-21T02:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T02:28:44.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guess I will need shades after all</title><content type='html'>Well to be honest, after reading general chat on a game like Warcraft, I had very serious doubts about the internet, or really the usage of it under the guise of anonymity. Now that game has over 10 million accounts world wide. The reason I worried was someone would ask a question like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Player: Hey, where is General Marcus at?&lt;br /&gt;Old Player: Your mom&lt;br /&gt;NP:  What?&lt;br /&gt;OP: He’s on your mom&lt;br /&gt;Helpful Player: Out front of SW&lt;br /&gt;NP: SW?&lt;br /&gt;OP: STFU noob&lt;br /&gt;HP: Stormwind&lt;br /&gt;OP: Don’t help him he’s a noob&lt;br /&gt;Other Player: Any 25 mans going?&lt;br /&gt;OP: Yeah we’re raiding your mom&lt;br /&gt;OP: See that guys I burned him…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now back when I was playing I eventually learned how to turn general chat off, then trade chat went, closely followed by LFG, world defense, local defense and eventually guild chat went away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problem is not some much as the OP being a jerk, but rather a complete lose of comedic timing, stale material. And reruns of jokes better left buried in the filth that spawned them. I firmly think if Don Rickles wanted to, he could rip a part general chat and never violate the TOS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this would never happen, that and most of the brain dead chatters would refuse to admit he got over on them. But I now digress&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was worried, but I have been hoping around on 20SB links and I am very happy with what I see. I do laugh a lot, and I am getting closer to not being a huge ass about the youth today. But in all honesty, I look forward to these people moving up in the world, I imagine more than a few will write scripts that I will see preformed, and books I will read. Articles, short stories, sitcoms and dramas will come pouring from these writers in huge amounts. I look forward to seeing/reading what will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now mind you, I don’t like all of it but then again my generations’ major contribution to society so far has been phone sex, so yeah aim high kids!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-2618653384105063871?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/2618653384105063871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/guess-i-will-need-shades-after-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2618653384105063871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/2618653384105063871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/guess-i-will-need-shades-after-all.html' title='Guess I will need shades after all'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4736768011756805041</id><published>2009-05-14T18:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T19:00:22.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly youth</title><content type='html'>I got to poking around today and found one of the blogs I follow to be what I might call “silly young people in love”. I just want to shake them and yell at them: Don’t be stupid, all this means nothing, you are being silly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading how this is happening, and how to starting over at 24 is a bitch. This makes me laugh, cause until right now I always thought they had no clue, hell how can you start over at 24 when you have not even started at 24… It was then I started to recall how I felt at 24. Oh all the pain from lost relationships, the joy at bonding with friends, the excitement of it all. I never worried about work. Hell if I got tired I would quit for any reason and stay that way until my money ran out, then get a job again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at what I am now, married, steady career with a good solid company. Early to bed and early to rise kind of thing. Not that any of this is bad, just very different from what I was when I was 24.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question is, who is right? Am I right to be able to look at these things and say, all this will fade over time. The pain will diminish. Or is youth right, being able to feel what the heart tells you. Being able to love more because of it. To revel in the suffering, letting it form us into what we will become. Part of me wants to feel that again, and part of me knows I felt all of that and I am who I am because of it. Oh well I will keep reading, and I will remember…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when the hell did I get old and set in my ways? A few years ago a friend blogged that we, him and I are the same age, were middle aged. I Said: “You might be, but I got a few more years till I am middle age…” Yeah, I cannot say that anymore. I long to see life from the 20 year olds POV, when it was all new and shinny. Before rent/mortgages set in, before prostate exams and the constant search for odd looking moles suddenly appearing. The high blood pressure and cholesterol…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was 24 now I think I would be doing just what I did some 20 years ago, but this time I would mean it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4736768011756805041?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4736768011756805041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-got-to-poking-around-today-and-found.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4736768011756805041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4736768011756805041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-got-to-poking-around-today-and-found.html' title='Silly youth'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-5634362658337786416</id><published>2009-05-12T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T21:11:42.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>now... where did I put that soap box...</title><content type='html'>I must say, some things will never make sense to me. I was sent a joke email by a friend. This friend will send me joke a few times a week. I read most of them, at least I try to read most of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I am caught in a situation where I think I know what to do, but then I feel hypocritical because it involves being politically correct. I am not one to tell you I am offended by your speech, or manner. I have strange interpretation of the first amendment. I think it gives me the right to be offended. I kind of like being offended as it means we are still trying to push the limits. We all have the right to be offended, but that does not mean we should run around doing it. Just because it CAN be done, does not mean it should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, by tradition, if the subject line does not make me smile then I just deletes it as the subject matter will no doubt not make me laugh. This one read rather strange it was PMS hormone guide. Well I meant to delete it, but opened it instead, maybe it was a Freudian slip… lets just say that it was about what men should and should not say to women who suffer from PMS. I do get the joke the safe line in all the situation presented would be : “Here have a glass of wine”. I am not offended that my friend sent it, I see where she would find it funny, but really the creator has some serious man hater issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really starting to worry about society; I see things changing that really needed to stay in place. According to Genesis 3:15:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed;&lt;br /&gt;he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been taken to mean beating your wife is ok, I do not support that thought path in anyway. That is not what this means, it means, in my opinion anyway, we will be fighting for the rest of time. We will not have the relationship we had before this was placed upon us. We will be unable to truly get along like we should. With that being said, why are women changing and acting more like men?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Violent crime committed by females is on the rise, has been since 1989 as seen here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles/femof.pdf"&gt;http://www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles/femof.pdf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Female inmate population has increased by almost 100% since 1990 as seen here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wvdoc.com/wvdoc/Portals/0/documents/female.pdf"&gt;http://www.wvdoc.com/wvdoc/Portals/0/documents/female.pdf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as who is getting killed well lets take a look:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/homicide/gender.htm"&gt;http://www.ojp.usdoj.gov/bjs/homicide/gender.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both male and female offenders are more likely to target male victims than female victims.&lt;br /&gt;My problem from all this; we, as a society, are failing to keep our rolls clearly defined. Women are our guide posts, our markers; they are supposed to show us the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Men should be careful lest they cause women to weep, for God counts their&lt;br /&gt;tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Talmud, a Jewish text&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This means women are more spiritually evolved than men are. They understand the world on a level much to deep for a man to fathom, I mean truly fathom. Does this mean women are better than men?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, no, no… a thousand times no. All it means is we are different, men have certain strength, and women balance that out. We are the pointy end of the stick, women are the shaft that guides us to our mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I see women, I respect them for they can and often do things that I cannot. But then drivel like that email crosses my path and I am left to feel more like an idiot than anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, but it is just one instance, maybe I should not be so sensitive… Well let’s see, when was the last time a man was portrayed as a strong roll model in a family setting? When he was able to intelligently offer up conversation, ideas or even a helping hand with out hitting it with a hammer? If women were portrayed this way I think the screems could be heard from the moon…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end it really means nothing, society is meant to fall apart so it can reform and grow again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-5634362658337786416?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/5634362658337786416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/now-where-did-i-put-that-soap-box.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5634362658337786416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/5634362658337786416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/now-where-did-i-put-that-soap-box.html' title='now... where did I put that soap box...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-4378927771701275701</id><published>2009-05-07T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T20:20:20.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A well worn path</title><content type='html'>I got to thinking of my childhood this morning. I was drinking my coffee and it took me back to when I was 13. Not sure why, but I got to thinking of Mike Smith. No really that was his name, Smith. This was a man who was a neighbor of ours when I first moved to Santa Ana. He was in no way blood to me. He just saw a very lost boy who needed a man to set him on the path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was a man of the late 70’s, terry cloth jacket for hanging out at the pool. Custom Van beautiful interior with a couch, captain chairs, deep pile shag carpet etc… He was so very with it. He was into country music, before it was first getting into the spot light because of Urban Cowboy. Several lady friends around the neighborhood which I did not find out about until much later, turns out he was a very active with them  but he did not let me see that side of him. He protected me from that, and I figure would have kept protecting me from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike Smith had become my father, mentor, a guide, if you will, on becoming a man. This was very new to me as I never had a father figure until that time. Not that my dad was just not around, or that he had died. Nope, I was California second single parent adoption, my sister being the first. (At least that is what we were told back around 1970). So I never had a father to show me the ropes, how to do man things like fix stuff, how to stand up for yourself, how to fight… I missed all of this. Not blaming my mother, she did what she could, and worked damn hard at it too. But there are things I am still trying to figure out as a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Mike filled in that roll willingly, at least for a while. He had been married once before and had a daughter name Stacy. Well Stacy’s mom remarried, and after a while, I think it was her, she got a job offer in Gig Harbor, Washington. Well Mike got a job; he was an engineer, working for a submarine builder. I clearly remember this because I thought it was an awesome job to get because you would always get to try out what you were designing. So off they went, I did see them a few times after that, as a matter of fact Mike came down just after my 16th Birthday and taught me how to drive on the freeways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw him a few more time after that, but it was rough, I had become a huge ass, as well as a pain in the ass, and thinking I knew it all. It was a time when my father would have knocked my dick in the dirt. I don’t mean to be vulgar but really I needed that done to me. But, I don’t think it is fair to expect that from him, he was just a volunteer after all. Just a guy who saw a little boy who needed to be put on the path to manhood, and he did what he could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I will have to find out what happened to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-4378927771701275701?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/4378927771701275701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/well-worn-path.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4378927771701275701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/4378927771701275701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/05/well-worn-path.html' title='A well worn path'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3682967265211116935</id><published>2009-04-30T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T00:00:04.323-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WTF?'/><title type='text'>Damn you Comcast! Damn you to hell!</title><content type='html'>Hold on one second, I have to figure this out. I guy I work with had Comcast come out and rerun his wires because they screwed something up in his new house. Turns out, when they are installing the upstairs cable the drill into the down spot. Well, a guy comes out puts a patch on it this friend of mine calls it good and that’s it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week he gets a call from Comcast asking for a confirmation on a settlement. Under $1000, no paperwork needed, over and you need paperwork. My friend says whatever it was $998.00 and again calls it good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just this week I get a double bill from them. Ever since we moved when we call they say we owe nothing, bill comes and 2 months due… We just made a payment for March and Aprils bill on the 10th. And now they say we owe April and May?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my friend got a letter from Comcast, with a check for $998. Guess I know why I was double billed now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3682967265211116935?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3682967265211116935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/hold-on-one-second-i-have-to-figure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3682967265211116935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3682967265211116935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/hold-on-one-second-i-have-to-figure.html' title='Damn you Comcast! Damn you to hell!'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-7731989306798694786</id><published>2009-04-30T22:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T23:59:00.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random blog is random</title><content type='html'>Terrible night tonight, very frustrating. I find myself with much trouble following a single line of thought to a final conclusion. I keep getting derailed into and abysmal reflection of the life I have crafted for myself. I will just give highlights:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why is it people cannot figure out how to check basic things before calling me to work on them. 50% of the calls I get would go away if they just checked the e stop button on the machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why is it I work, bring home most of the money and yet still feel like I have to do house work? My wife works 3 days a week average and that is even from our house, so why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Bea Arthur Died and all I could think about was “Oh. Maude died.” Her best roll ever. "God'll getcha for that, Walter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why do people keep asking when am I coming back to WoW, how about cause I don’t want to play anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Where am I going to come up with the money to get a new car…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why did I come in to work, I should have called sick…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-What will I BBQ this week end? How about steak… nope to pricey… chicken? Boring… AH FISH! Oh wife hates fish…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah they just keep looping around in random order, maybe one day it will make more sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-7731989306798694786?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/7731989306798694786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/terrible-night-tonight-very-frustrating.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7731989306798694786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/7731989306798694786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/terrible-night-tonight-very-frustrating.html' title='Random blog is random'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-1144193749549676946</id><published>2009-04-27T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T17:47:57.460-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tired'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Smoking'/><title type='text'>Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar...</title><content type='html'>OK so I have been feeling rather tired and depressed for a bit now. Even though it is not to an extreme, I do feel sad. I have much trouble sleeping, and even when I do get enough sleep, I will wake up have my coffee, and take a nap on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today for instance, I did just that. I did not get off the couch until 1pm, right before I had to go to work. And this has been going on for sometime, I think it might be that my body is very used to getting nicotine at these times. I really thought this was the case until I found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.healthline.com/blogs/smoking_cessation/2007/06/can-quitting-smoking-trigger-depression.html"&gt;http://www.healthline.com/blogs/smoking_cessation/2007/06/can-quitting-smoking-trigger-depression.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am not so sure, maybe a visit to the doctor is in order. Don't get me wrong, I don't really feel that it is better living thru better chemistry. But maybe I can get some advice, maybe I need to change more than just my smoking, maybe, heaven forbid, I need to move more now. Maybe more changes need to be made like better food in take... Oh my, I think I am turning into one of those people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, maybe I will just suck it up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-1144193749549676946?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/1144193749549676946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/sometimes-cigar-is-just-cigar.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1144193749549676946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/1144193749549676946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/sometimes-cigar-is-just-cigar.html' title='Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8890953259013158451</id><published>2009-04-23T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T01:30:01.291-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WoW'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Smoking'/><title type='text'>I'm just saying...</title><content type='html'>So, my time officially ran out today for warcraft. Now over the last few weeks I have not gotten on all that much, what with my wife’s video card releasing the magic smoke, and my ever decreasing desire to play, I have logged maybe 4 hours. 4 hours over the last few weeks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet today I feel as though I lost something. A slight sense of lose, hard to put into words, just feels like I am missing something. I felt this way all day, waking up, in the shower, it was not until my trip to work that it dawned on me, my card ran out. Well at least I ain’t chicken, which reminds me one day I will have to post links to my favorite WoW videos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To date I have saved $189 dollars on not smoking, as well as saving 52.5 hours, some days I really want one, like when my truck died, when I found out my truck really was dead. When the production supervisor talks to me… He is a nice guy, and he quit smoking back in the early 90’s. But man, he can drive me to drink…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have managed to stay strong and not smoke, I pray a lot more now though, but that’s a good thing. I think we will be fixing up my wife’s car and sticking to only one vehicle for now. We will see how it goes and see if we really need another car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8890953259013158451?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8890953259013158451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-my-time-officially-ran-out-today-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8890953259013158451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8890953259013158451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-my-time-officially-ran-out-today-for.html' title='I&apos;m just saying...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-3288100142683694194</id><published>2009-04-22T17:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T01:28:05.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny stuff right here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.explosm.net/comics/1632/"&gt;http://www.explosm.net/comics/1632/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;made me laugh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-3288100142683694194?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/3288100142683694194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/httpwww.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3288100142683694194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/3288100142683694194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/httpwww.html' title='Funny stuff right here'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-6714206048038117264</id><published>2009-04-22T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T17:25:00.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Open door</title><content type='html'>Well turns out that I am no longer the owner of a Chevy S10 pick up. It is dead, way beyond worth repairing, just enough to scrap it. Man that hurts, I don't think my wife understands what this means to me. Yeah it was a small pick up, but until now it never failed me. Got me through some of the worst snow I have seen. Now it will be parted out and maybe bring a little help to old trucks that need a fix or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond that, I no longer have a vehicle that is mine, I mean all mine, my radio presets, steering wheel tilt, seat position, mirrors... now must all be shared. Where I like plain, I now have to see decorations of Winnie the Pooh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, in the end it does not matter much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-6714206048038117264?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/6714206048038117264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/open-door.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6714206048038117264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/6714206048038117264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/open-door.html' title='Open door'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8610390087527791110.post-8650865255174489266</id><published>2009-04-20T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T04:38:48.665-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WoW'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Smoking'/><title type='text'>Again with the harping...</title><content type='html'>In no real way do I ever expect to have anyone read this as I more than likely will not advertise of its placement. But as I am trying to change things in my life, things like smoking a, a 30 year habit. Think about it, my entire adult life I have smoked. Once I started smoking I never stopped, until now that is. This prospect scares the crap out of me, and I am not sure why it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other big thing I am changing, no more WoW. Look to your right, see the Pere Callahan? Yes I stole it from King, Salems Lot, wolves of calla etc... This name is my priest on Ner'zhul, an NE priest at that. Over 160 days played... 160 days, 3840 hours of my life spent in front of a monitor, grinding levels, then reps, then more levels, and more reps...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me the game has become stale, I have no idea really why it has become that way. Graphicaly great game, mechanics are top notch, good pve balance. Very creative game still, just lovely really. But I have grown tired of it. Don't get me wrong, if I had just picked it up I would love it, but I have been playing since Mr. McCash bought me my first copy of World Of Warcraft back in 2004. Got my wife into it shortly after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just think it is time to move on and that is why this is here, to help me get the monkeys off my back, nothing more, nothing less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8610390087527791110-8650865255174489266?l=bagelboysaga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/feeds/8650865255174489266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/again-with-harping.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8650865255174489266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8610390087527791110/posts/default/8650865255174489266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bagelboysaga.blogspot.com/2009/04/again-with-harping.html' title='Again with the harping...'/><author><name>Bagel Boy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16868213865896224143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__iGl702dOZU/Sw6B1VCr1DI/AAAAAAAAACY/4l-ORYwW0T0/S220/5063_1163239915025_1048660208_30507807_6072142_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
