<?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-26418422</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:37:34.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chronicles of a Bachelor</title><subtitle type='html'>Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>167</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116564145286552901</id><published>2006-12-08T21:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T21:18:33.243-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/919832/EmptyRoom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/294748/EmptyRoom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116564145286552901?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116564145286552901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116564145286552901' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116564145286552901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116564145286552901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_116564145286552901.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116560526259762655</id><published>2006-12-08T11:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T15:57:41.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/440466/hunting5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/831621/hunting5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116560526259762655?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116560526259762655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116560526259762655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116560526259762655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116560526259762655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_116560526259762655.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116560518571865367</id><published>2006-12-08T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T11:18:29.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/246976/Good_Will_Hunting-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/160311/Good_Will_Hunting-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116560518571865367?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116560518571865367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116560518571865367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116560518571865367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116560518571865367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_116560518571865367.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116560353394457028</id><published>2006-12-08T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T10:45:33.946-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/580107/normal_good-will-hunting-008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/696911/normal_good-will-hunting-008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116560353394457028?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116560353394457028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116560353394457028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116560353394457028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116560353394457028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_116560353394457028.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116553933184887961</id><published>2006-12-07T16:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T20:02:31.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/510619/Good_Will_Hunting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/320/553732/Good_Will_Hunting.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116553933184887961?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116553933184887961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116553933184887961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116553933184887961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116553933184887961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_116553933184887961.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116553289247763123</id><published>2006-12-07T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T15:08:12.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/908339/1426.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/185660/1426.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116553289247763123?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116553289247763123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116553289247763123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116553289247763123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116553289247763123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116552618971245993</id><published>2006-12-07T13:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T13:50:58.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/622611/GoodWillHunting_553_20__553_88.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/213730/GoodWillHunting_553_20__553_88.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116552618971245993?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116552618971245993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116552618971245993' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116552618971245993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116552618971245993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116525868851382092</id><published>2006-12-04T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T21:31:49.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>IT</title><content type='html'>What is "it"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Describing it can be difficult. I suppose it's just a general feeling of absurb all around awareness. A feeling that you are on top of your game and nothing can stop you. You may be on top of things normally, but there are those random peak times, that just are unstoppable. It's that feeling a basketball player gets when he knows everything he throws up, is going to hit. A baseball player who can't miss a pitch. A fighter who dances through the ring untouched, landing every blow successfully. (Sorry about the sports references, you catch what I'm saying right?) Everyone move you make is the right one, every word you spill out is the correct one. You can read people with ease and create a constant flow. This energy can be felt by others around you. You're feeling "it".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*Edit*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;I just saw the Britney Spears pictures ( of her who-haw ).&lt;br /&gt;She won't be feeling "&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;" for quite some time now.&lt;br /&gt;Wtf are those pics all about? Wow. Brutal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a feeling that I learned many years ago and I could turn on and off as needed. It was almost somthin' I took for granted. I was good at it. No....I was actually fucking great at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my ability to turn "it" on and off went away a couple years ago. I'll even go so far as to say that it went away once I started taking those stupid antidepressant pills. There is actually no doubt in my mind what-so-ever that they affected me in that way. Like I said before, I just became comfortably numb. I wasn't me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I feel funny even bringing this topic up, but I thought I'd share anyhow. In the past couple of months, I've felt it coming back, little by little. It's not somthin' you can sit down and figure out, or pick apart. It just happens...and I've been patient with it. I never bring this up. Ever. With anyone. It sounds silly.....but I can't help but laugh at people's reaction around me when I'm on. I think they see it too. Hell, you might even feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've missed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's he talking about....he's lost his mind?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think what you want. I just thought I'd share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;..............................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on a lighter note, I just got back from lunch and I actually ate 2 McChicken and 2 DoubleCheeseburgers and what I'm feeling right now , is &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;SHIT&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Holy fuck.&lt;br /&gt;I'll never do that again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116525868851382092?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116525868851382092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116525868851382092' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116525868851382092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116525868851382092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/12/it.html' title='IT'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116494922043924866</id><published>2006-11-30T20:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T22:04:28.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Herrrrrrrrrrrroooooooo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/925332/dfsgfdsggf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/320/349827/dfsgfdsggf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It appears as though I'm slacking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, I REALLY have been kind of busy lately. I've sat down several times in the last week only to be pulled in other direction almost immediately. Work....Play....Work... Play. All of which has been for the better. So before you jump on me and give me shit, reconsider, as I've needed a week like this for quite awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice shot huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'll have to be honest here....you girls really had me thinking alot this whole last week. What about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I started to consider if this site itself could ever ruin somthin' like a job, relationship, or friendship, in the future. I've seen and heard about situations like this, and never really considered it until this last week. Say that I'm in the process of getting a job. This could be found quite easy with a simple google search under my name. Is there anything on here that could lead to a problem? I always knew this to be the case, but recently I've been found by a few people this way, and I guess it really set in now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday I stopped sniveling like a bitch, kicked myself in the nuts (is that even possible?) and quickly got right back on track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I asked a few people about it, and the concensus was as follows ;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0);font-size:130%;" &gt;" Uhhhh Dustin, you're much worse in person, than you are on the blog. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....oh yea. Duh. We just went through this. I'm careful on here. Normally that statement could offend someone, but I understand what they mean. I'm selective. Cryptic. Blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm golden then! I mean, I really AM worse in person. My mouth can get me in trouble much faster than anything I type on here. It can also get me OUT of trouble like no other. It can also get me in.....er....wups. (damn mouth)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here I am. Refreshed after a nice week.&lt;br /&gt;Now I shall give you the Cliff Notes;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was contacted by a certain someone that I haven't seen in years, and we hung out the other night and had a great time. You want specifics? Come on now....you know me better than that. If you're not new to the site, I CAN point you to the most recent Q&amp;A session I did. Last question. That's all I got for u. Yes, I'm going to make you work if you really want it. How fucking cool is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has fortunately been looking up. This damn business is so up and down that it stress's my ass out. Some weeks worse than others. This week?....not so much. That's good news cuz we all know I need more money right now. NOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...most importantly, for a move. Where? I have a couple options. This will probably be narrowed down within the week. More on that some other time. Now is not the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always find it funny when someone asks me about "miss priss", but I quickly remind myself that she's one of the rare few that I bring up on here. Yes, we still hang out ( probably this saturday, right? ) and yes we get along quite fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent two nights restocking my musical library, which is probably really boring to hear, but a big deal to me. Without constant new tunes, I slow down. It had been awhile since I sat down and really worked on finding new stuff. Now I can continue singing like a fool, and dancin' through life. I just have to make sure no ones looking. shhhh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....and that's all for now. I have to go meet a few girls for some drinks. See y'all ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116494922043924866?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116494922043924866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116494922043924866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116494922043924866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116494922043924866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/herrrrrrrrrrrroooooooo.html' title='Herrrrrrrrrrrroooooooo'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116492574099852348</id><published>2006-11-30T14:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T21:16:42.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Me.</title><content type='html'>Hello Strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....I'm alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just locked up in jail for a couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;*kidding*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just dropped in to see what I've missed in the last week. I suppose you're wondering what you've missed on my side huh? That'll have to wait until I'm done in the office today. Hah! Fortunately I have good friends like Big H to fill in while I'm gone. Who better to have my password on here? I think you DID get a few people in trouble for looking at tits and peckers at work though. Nice one dude. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...oh yea, and you forgot to put up a picture of the biggest boob ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;woot!@&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See y'all in a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116492574099852348?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116492574099852348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116492574099852348' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116492574099852348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116492574099852348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/its-me.html' title='It&apos;s Me.'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116485229890200620</id><published>2006-11-29T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T18:13:51.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boobs and Christmas (HIJACK TIME from BIG H!!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It wasn't long ago that a simple post of a boob mug got loads of attention here. Since my guests posts don't garner many comments, I'm loading up and using props this time. I've gone searching around the States to bring you these mugs, so you better damn well appreciate my efforts!! My trusty alter ego, Mr. Booblesworth, started his journey by strapping on his boobphones, taking a refreshing sip of milk from his boob mug, and started clickin his boob mouse....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/701870/boobbellcheckplease.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/173926/boobbellcheckplease.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First was the sunny climate of Florida for a tanlined mug... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/1600/753195/boob.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7706/1750/400/553491/boob.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Feeling quite unfulfilled, Mr Booblesworth opted to go for a spokesperson instead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img59.imageshack.us/img59/7237/blogreader7qw.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;However, she violated a strict no-alcohol policy &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(well, ok, so Mr. Booblesworth bought drinks for her)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://soundstyle.homestead.com/files/drunk_chick.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So back to travelling up the coast where he ran into this mug...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.funnysnaps.com/oj.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Unfortunately, he was travelling without his shotgun, so he just shook his head and moved on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sensing that the people of blogworld would get rapidly disinterested without more mugs to their interest, Mr. Booblesworth made the ultimate sacrifice and found this mug for them...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://us.st11.yimg.com/us.st.yimg.com/I/bachelorette-dot-com_1925_174868060"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://us.st11.yimg.com/us.st.yimg.com/I/bachelorette-dot-com_1925_174868060" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;By this point in time, Mr. Booblesworth was downright exhausted. He had not even left the state of Florida, and already had too many adventures to share.  Pooped, he stopped by Grandma's house (who of course lived over the river and through the woods). Just because he knew everyone here would be wondering why this post was titled "Boobs and Christmas", good old Grandma had a mug he knew you'd all be interested in....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.detroitfunk.com/images/DEC05/DSC_1733.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.detroitfunk.com/images/DEC05/DSC_1733.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Booblesworth wishes ya Merry Christmas y'all. And if you don't celebrate it, well, have a Schlitz and a great end of the year. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116485229890200620?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116485229890200620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116485229890200620' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116485229890200620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116485229890200620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/boobs-and-christmas-hijack-time-from.html' title='Boobs and Christmas (HIJACK TIME from BIG H!!)'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116424445277295601</id><published>2006-11-22T15:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T17:14:12.786-08:00</updated><title type='text'>*Groan* Part Two</title><content type='html'>I thought I'd come on again and maybe clarify what I meant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cap, you're absolutely right, I do keep alot of things to myself still. I always will. That's just me. Here is what you need to consider though.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had my two sites up for a little over a year now. My first site (Saving Sanity) still exists but I don't use it as much as I used to. Today it's only used for random pictures, news, rants, video's that I come across on the net......while in early months of the site, it aslo included many personal pictures and insights. ( I'm suprised many people haven't noticed that they are all still there. ) I then graduated to this site, and here we are today. Over a year, and still much to share. I'm a slow process. My original profile statement, which hasn't changed since the first blog, sums it up quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"learning about me is a multi-year process. Stick around if you really want to know. Opening up takes time. If you can't pick up anything on this blog then you aren't looking hard enough."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my point.  It's odd for me to come across a person, that is able to sit down and read over these two sites, and gain knowledge in a couple hours of reading, in  what took me a year to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're also correct about another statement. I am selective. I am also very cryptic  on here. You may or may not be suprised on how cryptic I really am.  Some have picked it up, mostly from reading and looking at everything and putting things together. There are a TON of personal messages on here. That's just how I work....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116424445277295601?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116424445277295601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116424445277295601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116424445277295601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116424445277295601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/groan-part-two.html' title='*Groan* Part Two'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116418143337353412</id><published>2006-11-21T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-22T13:09:45.820-08:00</updated><title type='text'>*Groan*</title><content type='html'>Lately, I've heard this phrase from locals, that I never thought I'd hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I saw your blog today"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My immediate response goes somewhat like this.&lt;br /&gt;*cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;" Fuck ...that's awesome. No Really."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...which is then followed by the ridiculous deer stuck in a headlights look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why should I be suprised? I put this thing up with my own name, and picture, right? Hell, I might as well throw my freakin' address up too. ( 1362 Garde..... kidding ) What's the reason for the stuck in the headlights look? Well, I started this silly little blog in April for a few reasons that I've already shared. There's one more....and it's being pointed out to me more and more as of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've spent my whole life bottling up alot of things, and keeping my thoughts to myself. I can't tell you how many times I've heard these lines ;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Dustin, you're almost impossible to read"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;"Dustin, I never know what you're thinking"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;"Why do you keep so much to yourself?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know some of you are sitting there with a confused look on your face. (I can't blame you as the vast majority have never met me before or live near me ) I seem to discuss things about myself (semi) ok on the site here. I refuse to disclose other names here. It's just about ME. That's EXACTLY what's been pointed out to me lately. I'm far more open to discuss things about myself , than I've been in the past in person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit to having issues with the statements above ( for people other than my closest friends ) and especially being open. I figured the best way for me to learn to open up a little bit more, and not be such a hard ass, was to start this. I might as well make it available to anyone and everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a " i saw your site " comment, I'm usually poked fun of (lightly) and proded with questions. This is really the ultimate test in my opinion. I made it available, now I have to deal with the reprecussions of it, light or not. Trust me, I get shit from the guys all the time. It's my own fault....as they aren't used to this side of me. I roll with the punches cuz its all I can do. Sometimes it can be uncomfortable, but in the end, I know this is exactly why I started it in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....I'm still learning, but I can safely say that I've learned alot through this stupid little blog already. You can try to give me shit in person, but deep down you know, I'll probably end up fucking you up right back. That's one thing I never had to learn, as it comes quite natural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*evil grin*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116418143337353412?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116418143337353412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116418143337353412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116418143337353412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116418143337353412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/groan.html' title='*Groan*'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116414065229133718</id><published>2006-11-21T12:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T12:24:12.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Sharing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/goodwifeguide.png"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/goodwifeguide.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back later on....I just wanted to share this with everyone first. It's a little old, but it just resurfaced in my emails this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;*Runs Away*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116414065229133718?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116414065229133718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116414065229133718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116414065229133718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116414065229133718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/just-sharing.html' title='Just Sharing'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116414023798931565</id><published>2006-11-21T12:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T12:20:26.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/lifeexplained.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/lifeexplained.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116414023798931565?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116414023798931565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116414023798931565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116414023798931565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116414023798931565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/truth.html' title='Truth?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116389788900321785</id><published>2006-11-18T16:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-19T17:55:43.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listen Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/whackoff.2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/whackoff.2.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/whackoff.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey Dustin, it's been a few days.....you need to update your blog"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;I've been busy TALKING to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I said talking. The word has been pointed out to me routinely in the last few days, usually with a request of an explaination. I might as well take the time to type it out here, so the next person that asks me, I can just say ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Ahhh suck it. Go read my blog. It's all on there." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how many people ask me how the "dating scene" is going. I think it's fair to say that most aren't really interested in hearing the answer, and they're just asking because it sounds right for my situation. Why am I not interested in having a relationship at this time? Well, this ship has been docked for the last 6-7 years, and it's just recently gone out to sea. I've since crossed international waters, and I'm enjoying the lack of laws/rules/regulations that once existed back at the dock. Can anyone blame me for not wanting to head back to shore quite yet? I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. I enjoying the fact that I don't have to report anything and everything I'm doing during the day. It's just me, and there's nothing wrong with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it's a given that I have my lonely moments and urges. That's normal. I've hung out with a handful of people since the breakup, but it's been minimal at best. Everyone assumes that because I'm a flirt, not terribly ugly, and socially skilled, that I should be taking advantage of what's in front of me. The thing is, I'm in no rush. Women have never been my problem ( actually wait.....of course they have ). I can't help but cringe everytime I even think about a relationship right now. It's easier for me to label what I'm doing as "talking", cuz that's all it really is and all I really want. Is that an excuse? Maybe....but until that feeling subsides, I'm not going to waste anyone's time, including my own. In the meantime, I shall just be enjoying myself ( I know this line will come back to haunt me ) and my freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think it's odd that I'm not dating anyone, flip the scenario around, and consider this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Wouldn't it be more odd if I were already in another relationship?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116389788900321785?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116389788900321785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116389788900321785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116389788900321785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116389788900321785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/listen-up.html' title='Listen Up'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116365736861073311</id><published>2006-11-15T20:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T14:16:12.306-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We All Fall Down</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/pea.1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/pea.1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K ...I need a second to get this out of my system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHHAHAHhahahAhhaashashshsdhjsdfjkdfglhfdsg!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;*ahem*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK much better. I've been pretty busy at work and at home so I apoligize for the lack of substance recently. I just NOW listened to the recording of the radio show today and I must say, I sound fuckin' depressing!! (hence the laughing at myself)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, most people would hear themselves like that and get down. Not me. If anything, this is a bit of a wake up call. I mean really, I sounded kinda sad. I thought about it just now and came to this conclusion. It's been a hard year. The year is also coming to a close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beginning of the year = depressing. Terribly sad.&lt;br /&gt;Now = tired, and a bit down from the outcome of the year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....but sad?&lt;br /&gt;Come on now Dustin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I look forward to coming on with Heidi and Lara again. (You two can feel free to mold me into some super bachelor from now on. I'm at your beckoning. ) I'm sure everyone got a kick outta hearing me cringe at a few questions. I'll admit that in the beginning I was a bit nervous, which is pretty damn rare.....I'm usually pretty collected. It's probably due to the fact that I knew I might get hit with a question about a previous situation on the blog. I suppose it's fair game though isnt it? I'm ready for round two regardless....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still a fool....and yes, my voice is kinda raspy sometimes. Deal with it.&lt;br /&gt;.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quicky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I cleaned up in my bedroom and my bathroom. Right before going to bed, I dumped Comet all over the shower, with a little water. I forgot about it this morning and jumped in the shower too fast, without grabbing a towel or sponge to wipe it down. I stepped back out, grabbed a sponge and proceeded to get back in the shower.......only to catch my ankle on the edge of the tub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;Went&lt;br /&gt;Down&lt;br /&gt;Hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing beats eating shit in the shower first thing in the morning. Especially into a tub sprinkled in Comet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scrubbed and scrubbed and was paranoid throughout the day that I smelled like Comet, and would have to explain why, but it never happened. I am the winner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happen's far too often, now that I think about it. Maybe I should get a webcam for the shower and charge fee's too watch my sorry ass ATTEMPT to get ready every morning. Hmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116365736861073311?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116365736861073311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116365736861073311' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116365736861073311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116365736861073311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/we-all-fall-down.html' title='We All Fall Down'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116353195330387418</id><published>2006-11-14T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T17:01:03.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I Be Scared?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/I"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/I%27mFucked.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Naw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......but the thought of questions sent in by Shannon makes me feel like this ------------------&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt; *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've only got a quick second so I thought I'd share this shot of Lulu, so you all can see how she makes it difficult for me to get things done on my computer at home in the evening. If I'm online, she just has to lay down with her head on my hand. (which is on the mouse of course)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/LazyAss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/LazyAss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've learned to move slowly, while she's adapted to the movement and will continue to sleep even when I'm moving. If I happen to pick my hand up, I get the death stare, and quickly have to put it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's got me in check, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Women.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christ............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116353195330387418?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116353195330387418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116353195330387418' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116353195330387418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116353195330387418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/should-i-be-scared.html' title='Should I Be Scared?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116345195945922427</id><published>2006-11-13T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-14T00:51:21.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quicky</title><content type='html'>Just a quick heads up up for everyone if they are interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Wednesday November 15th&lt;/span&gt; - ( yes, that's this week )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;3:00 EST&lt;/span&gt; - ( don't make me tell you what time that is PST )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;ChickChat Radio -&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.chickchatradio.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.chickchatradio.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Streamed online&lt;/span&gt; - check the website&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lil' Ol' Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh I don't know....probably so they can make an ass outta me ( or let me make an ass outta myself, you pick).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curious to hear my demise?&lt;br /&gt;Me too......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know where to find me.&lt;br /&gt;Carry on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(i luv heidi)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;hah!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;*edit*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, who signed me up on the Russian mail order bride site?&lt;br /&gt;Grrrrrr......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting girls sent to me in my hotmail AND work email (which I never provided on here)&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;Very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116345195945922427?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116345195945922427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116345195945922427' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116345195945922427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116345195945922427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/quicky.html' title='Quicky'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116332077533808535</id><published>2006-11-12T00:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T01:14:07.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/dogsurf.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/dogsurf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I couldn't take it anymore&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old layout was too stretched out.&lt;br /&gt;There was too much WHITE going on. Borrring.&lt;br /&gt;It was starting to give me a headache. Especially at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this isn't exactly much darker, but I liked it more and more as I worked on it. Am I done? Unfortunately not. It took a bit longer than I expected it to, as Lulu likes to rest her head on my hand (which is on the mouse) and I try to move as slow as possible so she can sleep there. I think she does it just to test my patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that it appears how I want it to on Internet Explorer, yet on Mozilla it looks like shit. I'm just going to bank on a lack of Mozilla users out there. *cross's fingers*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't like it, tell me. I'd like to hear some opinions on this. I'm open for suggestions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116332077533808535?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116332077533808535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116332077533808535' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116332077533808535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116332077533808535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116302587207697374</id><published>2006-11-08T14:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T12:49:56.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A few Notes on my Bday</title><content type='html'>I'm 29.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost to the big 3-0. Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up and do the usual routine.....shower, news, and turn on the computer to read headlines and check emails and msg's. The very first message that I read is from a friend (another local dj) that I really haven't seen in at least a year. It's a simple note - Happy Birthday you whitetrash whore". Cool right? Well he attached a picture of me that I'd never seen or knew existed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I was drunk and I don't remember much at all.&lt;br /&gt;2) Nobody that was with me had a camera that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was me on my bachelor party night, and I was wearing a bunch of random shit that my friends made me wear. Not attractive at all. He ( friend who took the pic ) &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; with us that night, so he must of caught us on the street before heading to the strip club er somthin'? I don't think he even knows that I am divorced now. I sat there for a second and just kind of laughed cuz I never expected to see an image of myself that night, especially this long after it. I figured this would set the tone for the rest of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice.&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be random, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get to work and continue on like any normal day. Bday wish's come in from co-workers, emails, and phone calls. After talking to a bunch of friends, I found myself thinking about certain people that I hadn't heard from in awhile. Phone rings and a name pops in my head. Name = caller whom I haven't talked to months. This happens twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/2dfh.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/2dfh.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend/co-worker decides to take me to sushi for lunch (Thanks Kristen!!1)&lt;br /&gt;Miss priss brings a bottle of Patron to the office w/ the instructions to share.&lt;br /&gt;Dammit.&lt;br /&gt;I obey..... for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is more bearable now. I'm bad, I know. Bite me, it was my bday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go out to dinner with my mom, her boyfriend, brother, sister, and HER boyfriend for more sushi. Yea, I love sushi. Suprise Suprise. We rarely get together as a whole crew and it ended up being just fine. One note though, my little brother needs a little work on his tequila tolerance. ( I'll help ya out with that buddy) What are brother's for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I get home, and there is an envelope with my name on it, stuffed in the door. It's a bday card from the neighbors. Cool! I opened it to find a card with a cat with a smile cut from a human's face. Silly, and cute....the thing that caught me off guard was, I DID this picture back around 93-94 as a charcoal drawing that was featured in some stupid art event. I haven't seen this picture since then or even thought about it. She couldn't possibly of known that. Nobody does. It was completely random....and she'll find this out, just like the rest of you, online. I haven't talked to either of them today, so they might find this kinda ironic. Oddly enough, I still have that drawing in a box somewhere ( most of mine aren't kept) so I will take a picture of it, with the card next to it, so they can see what I'm talking about. (Thanks Linh!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just another suprise on my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I finally remembered to look at my divorce paperwork that I found in the mail the other day, and check to see if there was a TIME stamp on there .....so I can finally justify my feelings I had. I copied the comments I made from that day (10/30) so we can all see I wasn't insane. You can check for yourself if you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;somthin' aint right today.....i've yet to figure out what, but I just feel like I'm about to get hit with somthin' bad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;dustin&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a title="http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/" href="http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Homepage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;10.30.06 - 3:04 pm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Link to this comment" href="http://www.haloscan.com/comments/dustinterrazas/116223687142382141/#24068"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;#&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a name="24073"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; have some serious anxiety today. serious anxiety.what's scarey is that the rare occasions that I feel this, I'm faced with some bombshell at some point of the day. I'll be suprised if I make it through the day without one. It sounds crazy, I know....but I've been known to do this before.......I hate sitting here trying to figure out why I feel like this.Maybe I'm losin' it. dustin&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a title="http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/" href="http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Homepage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;10.30.06 - 3:29 pm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Link to this comment" href="http://www.haloscan.com/comments/dustinterrazas/116223687142382141/#24073"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;#&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/6fgh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/6fgh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The stamp on my divorce papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date - October 30th&lt;br /&gt;Time - 2:41 pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Nice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it's right to say this was the BAD news I was going to get hit with, but it's certainly not all that great either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There has been plenty of times where I've felt somthin' like this and felt I should comment on the site......but I hold back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds dumb.&lt;br /&gt;Cheesey.&lt;br /&gt;Fake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm starting to think that I should actually open up and ride with these kind of feelings online......just as some sort of personal expirement. How many times are these feelings just anxiety, stress or gas?(kidding) How many can be justified?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, there's one more. After sleeping well (due to the tequila, I'm sure), I suddenly woke up around 5:30am, and sat up. Normal wake up time = 7am or so. I figured I might as well get a drink of water, scratch myself, and then crawl back into bed, but on the way back I picked up my phone. I usually turn my ringer to vibrate at night, but for some reason I grabbed it, turned it back on, and then figured I might as well plug it in and charge it some more. Then I set it on my bed right near my pillow. Why? I don't know. I'm insane. Then I just sat there and stared at it, trying to figure out why the fuck I'm awake right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phone rings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chuckle to myself and pick it up immediately. It's miss priss. She thought she heard somthin' in the house. She say's she's sorry for calling so early...she's just scared. I stay on the phone while she calms down and check's out her pad. I didn't bother to tell her that I was already sitting there awake with the phone in front of me, cuz it would just sound creepy, so I left it alone. Conversation ends, she goes back to bed. ( Shit, now she'll read it anyway....fuck it. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sat there and considered which mental insitution I should enroll in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116302587207697374?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116302587207697374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116302587207697374' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116302587207697374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116302587207697374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/few-notes-on-my-bday.html' title='A few Notes on my Bday'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116299685027650945</id><published>2006-11-08T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T10:03:44.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mornin'</title><content type='html'>I just had to share this real quick with everyone. Big H was kind enough to post a nice lil titty cake for me ( thanks dude!). This cake was sent to me in an email yesterday and I felt the two might go along well together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who want's the first bite?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/woman-face.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/woman-face.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I do in the morning, is turn on the news, log on to the computer, and read the headlines. It usually set's the pace for the rest of the day. Todays are as follows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/08/pelosi.speaker/index.html"&gt;Pelosi set to become House's first madam speaker&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/08/WH.reax/index.html"&gt;White House extends olive branch to House&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/08/election.senate/index.html"&gt;Dems projected to pick up four Senate seats&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/07/election.governors/index.html"&gt;Democrats poised to win majority of governorships&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/11/07/voting.doj/index.html"&gt;Number of civil rights voting complaints 'low'&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="javascript:cnnVideo%28"&gt;Man accused of smashing voting machine&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="javascript:cnnVideo%28"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/meast/11/08/israel.gaza/index.html"&gt;Palestinians say Israeli tanks kill 19 in Gaza&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/asiapcf/11/08/pakistan.blast.ap/index.html"&gt;Suicide bomber kills 42 in Pakistan&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/Music/11/07/spears.divorce.reut/index.html"&gt;Britney Spears files for divorce&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;------------ Brilliant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't this story better fit for bloggers, gossip sites, and junk sites in general? Am I the only one that is bothered by sites like CNN, Fox News, Cspan, etc, running these as major headlines more and more? Sure, it's interesting and we will all talk about it amongst ourselves......but come on now. Look at the rest of the headlines there.  They are all suddenly cheapened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sing with me..... "One of these things does not belong here, can you tell me just which oneeee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on that note, breaking news.  Rumsfield just stepped down from office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back in a few with the birthday news. There are quite a few things I'd like to share....it was  an odd day. Very odd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116299685027650945?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116299685027650945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116299685027650945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116299685027650945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116299685027650945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/mornin.html' title='Mornin&apos;'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116292657993093972</id><published>2006-11-07T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T11:09:41.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wot's that?  A party?  Dustin's a year older!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/cake.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/cake.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/cake.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUSTIN!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116292657993093972?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116292657993093972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116292657993093972' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116292657993093972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116292657993093972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/wots-that-party-dustins-year-older.html' title='Wot&apos;s that?  A party?  Dustin&apos;s a year older!'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116287566237969424</id><published>2006-11-06T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T02:12:00.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pussy Galore</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/2big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/2big.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day.....just like any other monday. Work starts, ends, then I come home. Nothing to do after work. That means I'm home early, which means Lulu is happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get alot of shit from people about me and cats. For some reason everyone assumes only "soft" guys should have them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;don't&lt;br /&gt;care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bring it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize most guys have dogs. Don't get me wrong, as I think dog's are awesome, there are just certain things about cats that I love. They have attitude, and they're not really easy to win over. I like that they're much more selective, and take work. Once you succeed, they can be putty in your hands. My cat's are pimp....and they can always cheer you up on a bad day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/4big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/4big.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Padme is with my mom until I find a new place. Lulu had to come stay with me as she was getting too stressed out without me around. She follows me around constantly and is usually laying on me as often as possible. Watching tv, sitting at the computer, sleeping, eating...you name it. I'd take some pictures of how she is with me, but I'd risk being de-balled on the internet. I DO have some sense of manhood left in me. She's sitting in front of me here so I'll throw two quick camera phone shots up instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is a sucker for Lu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd be too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she doesn't like you, I probably wouldn't either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAH!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all. Today wasn't all that eventful. Tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;My bday&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet. A year older. A Gazillion times wiser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116287566237969424?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116287566237969424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116287566237969424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116287566237969424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116287566237969424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/pussy-galore.html' title='Pussy Galore'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116278587792266998</id><published>2006-11-05T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T10:36:38.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Chapter am I on?</title><content type='html'>Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I closed out another chapter of it last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can help but reflect back at all that's happened....so much, in such little time. Life is short, indeed. With all that's happened, where does it lead now? Christ, thinking about all that's happened right now just gives me a headache. How will I look back say another 40 years from now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck, I sound like I'm having a midlife crisis? Someone punch me in the mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm eager to turn some new pages now, on this new chapter. Let's all cross our fingers and hope it reads better than the last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some may be wondering about my last post and it's statement on me finally being truely single. I started this blog with the "bachelor" moniker back in April and during that time I was legally seperated but not divorced. I was not trying to make a mark on the world as a single man during the beginning, but I felt the title would fit more as time went on. I think the first post sums up my feelings fairly well at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The First Post&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;a href="http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/04/for-you.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/04/for-you.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here I am. A real bachelor. Dangerous huh? I spent most of the weekend alone, and it all really set in....or came together. Whatever. The opportunities are endless, kind of like the pop-ups on my browser just now. Ironic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to thank lil miss priss for being....herself. We went out for drinks on thursday and had a great time as usual. Unfortunately I left my ipod in her car, she left town for the weekend and I'm now going through withdrawals. GRrrrrr.....good thing she works right near my office. It'll give us another excuse to hang out. HAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/1304412856_m.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/1304412856_m.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I'd also like to say &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;G&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;U&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;I&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;S&lt;/span&gt; to two of my best friends and their new arrival of their baby boy, Jackson. They've now begun a new chapter of their own, and I couldn't be happier for them. They are the first of our tight group, to have a child, and I know they'll set a standard for the rest of us in the future. There is no need to wish them any sort of luck, as they will be just fine in life....I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked my favorite picture for the occasion. HAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next up......the Boyce's and Jorgy's . ( God damn, it's baby central around this bitch ) This is crazy, This is crazzzyyyy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woot!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116278587792266998?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116278587792266998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116278587792266998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116278587792266998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116278587792266998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/what-chapter-am-i-on.html' title='What Chapter am I on?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116250463077603305</id><published>2006-11-02T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T14:50:23.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That Feeling</title><content type='html'>I suppose I could say that this is the first day of the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what's funny? Remember the other day when I said I was having some anxiety problems and I had this feeling that I was about to get hit with some news? There was a time period of about 2 hours, where the anxiety was realllllly strong and it was driving me mad. I knew something happened, or was about to happen. I even made a few calls to people to see if they had anything bad to tell me. I HAD to figure out what was going on. Little by little, the feelings subsided, and I just figured I had a false alarm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had stated on a previous post that I had a feeling I was going to get my final papers around or on my birthday. (The 7th)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They came this week instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The court stamp date on the papers = &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;october 30th&lt;/span&gt;....the same day I had those feelings.I knew somthin' was up. I'll have to take a look at it again and see if there is an actual time it was stamped that day. I need further justification of my hunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, it's now completely official/legal/final. I am single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have been asking if I feel any different. I can't say I do. I've been legeally seperated since the beginning of this year....just not divorced, and it's not like I've been sitting around waiting for the paperwork so that I may do things that single people do. I suppose I feel a sense of closure and that feeling will probably get stronger as the days go on. I don't feel it's right to celebrate...or should I? I also don't feel it's right to be sad. That leaves me sitting somewhere in between those two. It's hard to explain. Maybe I'll think of a better way to explain it later on......I just wanted to sit down for a minute and share the news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carry on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116250463077603305?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116250463077603305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116250463077603305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116250463077603305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116250463077603305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/that-feeling.html' title='That Feeling'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116240834555755872</id><published>2006-11-01T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T13:15:47.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>T &amp; A</title><content type='html'>I really have no reason of sharing this, other than it might be the most disturbing costume(?)ever. Well, that and I'm hoping someone catches you looking at this and asks you wtf you're doing....hopefully at work too. HAH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/baby.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/baby.5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So today I came into work early (crazy right?) and quickly found that I'm one of the few that's actually WORKING today. Apparently everyone hit the bottle a little too hard, but they're blaming the fact the it's getting cold now and they just aren't feeling well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick useless story - (cuz I'm bored)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the restrooms here has had a faulty light for a few weeks now. Everyone uses the other one cuz they're too lazy to replace the lightbulb (one of those long office ones) that flickers non-stop giving a strobe light effect in the room. Some days it's quite annoying, while other days it's kinda of fun to pee with the strobe light effect. No joke.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I'm sitting at my desk just now and I heard a huge explosion, which was followed by multiple "fucks, motherbitch,dammit etc". I thought the manager and I were the only one's here....I guess I was wrong. Our main boss (vp) decided to replace it himself....and not very skillfully. My manager and I are laughing are ass off cuz we know what just happened and he yells down the hallway to me...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"maybe we should check to see if he's alright..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nah. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;End story. I told you it was useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/mmmmmm.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/mmmmmm.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently we are out of cups in the kitchen now so I'm forced to use my beloved/hated titty mug that was given to me months ago from a co-worker. Normally it just sits on my file cabinet and looks prett....er tacky, so I had to clean it a bit before using it. I have to listen for feet coming down the hallway and time my sips right so I'm not caught molesting a ceramic boob. It's a fun game...really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class - &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC05492.0.jpg"&gt;http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC05492.0.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's a beauuuuuuuuuuuuuty eh? I thought I'd share this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;...and yes I know I'm scowling. You try drinking outta this thing....it's no easy task.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116240834555755872?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116240834555755872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116240834555755872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116240834555755872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116240834555755872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/11/t.html' title='T &amp; A'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116233511808880529</id><published>2006-10-31T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T09:25:42.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cook This</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/20061030-JACK.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/20061030-JACK.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I completely forgot today was Halloween.....but was quickly reminded once I went outside and saw people EVERYWHERE dressed up to go to work. I haven't worked at a place where people dress up in quite some time. Everyone here just likes to dress up their animals, which is kinda funny and all, but there's only so much I can take. It's funnier with the cats cuz they make it impossible to put anything on them, and then getting them to sit still for the camera is impossible.....ah well. That's what makes ca ts so friggin cool anyway. Attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret not going to a Halloween party this year. What a fuck up. I'm not even sure why I missed them in the first place. I'll just have to make up for it big time next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I think I proved my point about the lack of passionate cooks in that last post. What was the ratio of responses in the comments? The majority of you don't seem to enjoy it. I think it's even harder to find in California as everyone is used to eating out here. I'm one of them. The funny thing is, I know TONS of people that love to watch the Food Netwook, but it's rare to see them actually use any info from it. I like how I was instructed to "cook for myself". Is it taboo to want a significant other that likes to cook for you? Am I being too old fashioned now? Wtf. There are some things in life that I know I'm not that good at, and would love to be taught by the right person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clothing optional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;woot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*i just had a brilliant mental image* damn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to try to think of some other things that sound ideal now and see how else I can get ridiculed for it. That was fun. Let's play some more...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116233511808880529?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116233511808880529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116233511808880529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116233511808880529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116233511808880529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/cook-this.html' title='Cook This'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116227688435023884</id><published>2006-10-30T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T22:41:24.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I'm just hungry</title><content type='html'>I was just laying here watchin' tv and I came to the realization that I've never dated anyone that's truely loved to cook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know.....I'm crazy. I'm not sure what brought this on. Just roll with me here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, girls in the past HAVE cooked, but none really seemed to enjoy it. I'm talking about having a passion for mixing it up, for being creative, and being successful at it. Now I'm not the best cook in the world, but I think it would be fun to be taught by someone who is really good. Someone I can vibe off of. I think it would be fun to cook together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck....now I know I'm losin' it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must be age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's put the topic of my sanity aside. I'd really like to find this quality in a girl. I'm going to put my foot down on this. I rarely list anything that I'd actually like to find in a girl, but it's never to late to start. Why I thought of this right now, I don't know. Why I choose to sit down and share it? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who cares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girls passion for good cooking = hot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, I said it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116227688435023884?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116227688435023884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116227688435023884' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116227688435023884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116227688435023884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/maybe-im-just-hungry.html' title='Maybe I&apos;m just hungry'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116223687142382141</id><published>2006-10-30T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T14:19:06.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WoW</title><content type='html'>I am amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't get anything right today.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how I managed to drop my post I just did, but I think it has somthin' to do with the excessive amount of coffee today. I'm not going to even bother making up for it. I'll just end up erasing the site as a whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as;dlgj;hlkasdhg;skaflhgfsdgds'flkhg;lsdfkhgsd&lt;br /&gt;fg;lkhsdf;glhsadf;lgkhdsf;lkghdsf;lkghsdf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate mondays&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116223687142382141?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116223687142382141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116223687142382141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116223687142382141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116223687142382141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/wow.html' title='WoW'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116197088832823401</id><published>2006-10-27T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-27T14:51:01.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sadflkjghd;sflkhg;dsflk</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/fu.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/fu.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First I'd like to send a loving message to Heidi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;............*Ahem*............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suck It.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok ...all joking aside, I think I like you. The thing is, it's easy to be fiesty online and I don't think you'd be able to spar in person. Just a thought.&lt;br /&gt;Keep it up my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now. I need to finish a few things here and I'll be back in a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116197088832823401?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116197088832823401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116197088832823401' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116197088832823401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116197088832823401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/sadflkjghdsflkhgdsflk.html' title='sadflkjghd;sflkhg;dsflk'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116190251872802171</id><published>2006-10-26T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T17:20:44.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At the Office</title><content type='html'>*yawn*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what is today? Thursday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*rubs eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week is almost over. Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all look forward to fridays, but it's fair to say that this one is more deserved for me right now. It's been a full week of 14 hour work days. I'd like to sleep in at least a few hours come saturday. Fortunately I've had alot of progress, so that's good right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a brief window of calmness at work right now so I thought I'd come on here and just share some bullshit. Jorgy and I decided to rearrange our office a bit just to get a fresh feel in the room. Actually....I take that back. HE decided to do it, and in doing so, his desk actually came apart and broke into pieces. It started with a just this (pic below) and then when we tried to move it, the legs gave out completely and fell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/broken.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/broken.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sooooo.....that'll end the cleaning session for me. I spent the rest of the time sitting here working and watching him clean up the mess a couple feet from my desk. The best apart about it was the fact that we found a bottle of Baileys that we had missed and now it resides on my desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/baileys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/baileys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I'm sitting here with a lil baileys and coffee and now I'm even more tired. Want proof?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/2.8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/2.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;-------------there you go.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So that's all. I've now updated the site and it's time to make some client phone calls and have a few more cups.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shit.....and I still have to go to training tonight.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;*Sigh*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life is tough sometimes. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116190251872802171?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116190251872802171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116190251872802171' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116190251872802171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116190251872802171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/at-office.html' title='At the Office'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116172886930266180</id><published>2006-10-24T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T16:13:51.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch me ridin' dirty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/MeoW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/MeoW.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;,,,,,,,,and you thought guys and cat's don't have anything in common.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shame on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lulu and I are going through some internet withdrawals at home right now. That's sad huh? You'd think when the cable goes down, that you can survive just fine without your normal email/news/bullshit routines in the evening before going to bed. I find myself sitting down in front of the computer just cuz it feels comfortable....without really having anything to do on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lulu's actually taking it a bit harder. She's continually pawing at my chest in an attempt to make up for the lack of breasts on my computer screen. It's all sad and funny at the same time. I'd stop her but I usually don't have anyone around to pet me, so I just kind of let it happen.....as long as she doesn't use her claws, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not getting home until between 11:00pm and midnight each night for the next two weeks, so I suppose I'm not missing all that much. I'm going to the office from 9-5 and then training for a bartender from 6-10 for the next two weeks. While it sounds tiring, it's really good for me right now. I've been so bored recently.....and this is what I need. I can't see much bad coming out of this at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......well, I suppose that depends on what "bad" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116172886930266180?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116172886930266180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116172886930266180' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116172886930266180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116172886930266180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/catch-me-ridin-dirty.html' title='Catch me ridin&apos; dirty'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116162519829092955</id><published>2006-10-23T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T13:34:43.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ARGHHH!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Stressed%20Out%20Face.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/Stressed%20Out%20Face.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mondays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have those days where we just feel completely overwelmed. Today is one of those days......and I'll be lucky to leave the office without putting a hole in the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrrrrrr...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.....&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.......&lt;br /&gt;At least I made it through the questions from last week without any drama (like last time). I know I still have to finish two more but I need to finish alot of shit at work here first and calm down before I can answer them without any sort of sarcasm. Hopefully I filled in some gaps that I don't really talk about much on the website here. Like I said, it's much easier for me to be asked such things, instead of me just coming out and saying them. I'm still working on that.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that need to be said ;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lil' Miss Priss = the shit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She calls to cheer me up, which is no easy task lately. She does a hell of job of cheering me up when we hang out too. I just hope she doesn't think it goes unnoticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being sore = not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My muscles ache. Yea.....all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend was uneventful and on top of that, my internet decided to take a shit on me RIGHT BEFORE the weekend began. Typical huh? I spent the time reading, drawing, walking, and trying to sort out all the shit I'm going to have to do for the next month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....actually I need a whole fucking bottle. I know that sounds bad but it's really not. I MAYBE have a drink once a week. If that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand the new Killers cd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nor do I get why progress in my life seems to be in slow motion. It's like that dream that we all have where we are all trying to run as fast as we can, and you just can't for some reason. You're being chased, and your body is just not reacting. It's the most fustrating feeling ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work stress's me out. More than any of job has before. It just reminds me why I need somthin' like a bartending job to vent at night and be social.......just to get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bitching. I know. I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bite me. And you better run afterwards cuz I'm going to bite back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116162519829092955?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116162519829092955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116162519829092955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116162519829092955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116162519829092955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/arghhh.html' title='ARGHHH!!!'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116112165963143588</id><published>2006-10-17T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T18:20:51.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*Ahem* ....check, check.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/microphone%20on%20table.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/microphone%20on%20table.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok....here's the deal. I considered doing this once again over the weekend cuz I wasn't feeling well, was stuck inside, and it would have been nice to have somthin' to do. I hesitated for a few reasons though.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the main reasons for starting this site, was to learn to be more open, and to obviously learn from mistakes. There are times that I'm not sure exactly what to say on the site here....cuz I really don't know what is interesting to everyone. Sure, I write for myself, but saying I'm not interested in entertaining everyone, is wrong. Recently I think I've been a little more tight lipped, so I'm expecting you guys to crack the shell a little now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've done the Q and A sessions before, and there have been some good ones thrown my way, but many are just a little too simple. Let's get deep here, whatcha say? What needs to be shared? Is my divorce final? Am I dating? Do I masterbate like a monkey? How's the cat's? Can we take a shower together? How are relationships with family/friends/ etc? Do I HAVE family/friends/etc? ....the list could go on forever. It's just up to you guys to decide what is interesting or not. There are alot of people on here that don't actually comment, which is fine, but if you want to email me, that's cool as well. I can post it as anonymous. No biggy. I'm just really curious to see what you guys really want to know and hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave a comment below and I'll cut and paste up here with a reply. If you want to email , hit me up at tri-baydt@hotmail.com. Don't be shy. Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's have some fun eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;*UPDATE*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh shit! I almost forgot to add this! &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt;(from Big H)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello everyone!&lt;br /&gt;Just wanted to let you know on Saturday, Oct 14 we brought two little girls into the world - Jennifer Lyn (Jenna) and Danielle Kaia (Dani). I'm a bit rushed for time so I didn't update the main page of our website, but I updated it with some pictures and a few movies of the girls (click the palm trees next to BABIES to get to the page). "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats to both of you....and get some sleep while you can buddy. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Alright, let's get started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255);font-size:100%;" &gt;"&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;My question for you...who has hurt you the most?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255);font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;rhml&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this is quite a start, isnt' it? I thought about this question for a little bit even though the answer is easy. I've always felt funny admitting that someone has the power to hurt me.....and I know it's not exactly the best quality to have. I've gone through life acting like things don't phase me much, yet for some reason, I'm able to write about them on here. Odd....I know....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer? My father. I actually have some sort of odd mental block on most of my younger years, even up to around mid high school time. We never really used to get along, that's fair to say.....and I always felt like I had to hide from him. Sure, we had some abnormal rules and such, but it was mainly the way I was treated on most days. I'm not trying to create some sort of sob story at all, so please don't think that. As I got older, things got worse....both physically and mentally. I started to act back, which ultimately caused more problems around the house, so I had to leave when I was around 16. Even though it was rough, I can't say that I'd change it really. It's just how I grew up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually my parents got a divorce and from what I know, nobody has seen him in years. I actually ran into him once randomnly while getting a hair cut , about 6 years ago , but I don't know where he lives, what he does, or anything that pertains to his life. Most people find that odd, but I guess I just don't think about it too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" Although most live without regrets, what is one thing you would go back and do differently in your marriage? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;Jen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm....good question. A year ago I would have answered a bit differently. I suppose I can answer this honestly now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd start from the whole beginning and never would have actually been married. I know that sounds terrible, but it's true. There were signs that I ignored or pushed aside that I shouldn't have, that lead to problems later on in the relationship. Now that I've had all this time to reflect, I've realized that as the years went on, I developed bad habits, drank more, dabbled in drugs, cuz I was so unhappy with the situation I was in. I had sooo many doubts that I kept to myself, before and after marriage. I pretended everything was fine, all the while feeling the pressure of trying to make her happy. I really did want things to work, as we spent a good 6-7 years together, longer than any relationship before. I didn't want to be "that couple" that falls apart. It was just all fake. What happened after and during the split , has legitamized many of my doubts as well. That's just life though....live and learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately what it comes down to, is I married the wrong person.&lt;br /&gt;I fucked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" So, you wanted questions, you big baby. Here you go. This won't be pretty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;You say that you're different in real life. All things created equal, how would one know this when you put on such a persona. And you would agree it was a persona, right? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;Tania&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never wanted it to be easy, my friend. Each time I've sat down and done this, there has been some sort of drama. I don't think any of these questions are unfair at all, and if anything, make me realize some things that I didn't realize before. I can't expect things to be all flowery and fluffy all the time, right? So, with that said.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I do think I'm a bit different in person....for one main reason, that I mentioned at the beginning of this post. In person, these discussions rarely come up, especially amongst the guys. It's just not shit we talk about. I tend to be an even bigger smartass (Crazy huh?) and rarely discuss my feeeeeeeeelings. Dare I say, I'm a bit more of a hardass? I think alot of things that I talk about on here, suprise people that know me in town. You'll just have to believe me on this. It's not some drastic change in personality, and honestly, I think it's normal for most of us bloggers on here. It's why some of us choose to blog. It's nice to have an outlet such as this, and like I said, I tend to open up more when I sit down and type this out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" Now that you're divorced/in the process of divorce/close to divorcing, what qualities would you look for in a new partner? What qualities would turn you off? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well first off, the divorce isn't final yet. The paper work was filed back on April 6th . I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll get the notice either ON my birthday (beginning of November ) or within a day or two of it. Call it a gut feeling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I look for? Hmmm....I think everyone could answer this question somewhat the same. We all want a strong, confident, beautiful, smart better half in our life. I don't have some sort of checklist that I go over when meeting someone. I'm not exactly looking for a relationship either. I figure those things come together as they are supposed to, and honestly I've got many things that I need to take care of in my life first, before I involve someone else. It's just not fair for someone to come in at this point. I don't have a problem with casually dating but I'm not even doing that right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn off's are much easier to list. I think it's fair to say that an insecure girl is my biggest turnoff. We ALL have things we are not secure about, but I'm talking about a girl that has to be constantly reassured that she's beautiful, smart, etc. Confidence is very sexy...and a must.&lt;br /&gt;Another turn off?&lt;br /&gt;The "valley girl" types. Like oh my god. nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like girls that move too fast.&lt;br /&gt;I typically don't like girls with shitzu's. (sp)&lt;br /&gt;I HATE argueing. I don't have time for it. If we argue early on....I'm walking.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like "clingy" girls.&lt;br /&gt;If you don't get along with my friends, or have a problem with any of them....i'm gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...that's all for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" You seem to be pretty high maintenance. Give examples of where you haven't been. Also give references. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAH!!! You're the greatest, you know that? I'm FAR from high mainenance. I just have certain quirks. We all do. I like attention and I love to be pet BUT I know when it's acceptable and when it's not. I'm a pain in the ass, not high maintanence. If you want references, there are friends in town here that read this (girls and guys) and they are more than welcome to leave a comment with any background info. When I think of high maintenance, I think of a guy that needs to be waited on hand and foot. Cooked for constantly, his laundry done for him, and just waited on in general. Nice try. I'll take what I can get, but I can survive on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" If likeness attracts likeness describe the three best and worst qualities of your best friend. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider my best friends a family. They are reliable, smart as all hell, and are always there for you. Always. I can't say there are "worst" qualities in them really....I mean we all have our quirks. We like to playfully argue, we tend to be very firm in our political differences, and in many cases, we stick to ourselves. I think we each contribute somthin' different to our group that creates an overall completeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" Why do you demand people read your blog when you don't read theirs? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, that's just dumb. First off, I don't demand that anyone read's what I write. If what I offer, is boring, don't read it. I DO admit to not commenting much on everyone's site, but why does that matter? My time on the computer is hit and miss, and when I have time, I read people's blogs....cuz I want to, not cuz I'm supposed to. Why does it matter if I choose to comment or not? I assure you, I like keep up on alot of people's stuff, and I'm sorry if you feel otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Ok boss, I'll stop answering your questions ....for now. You'd call bullshit on anything I'd respond to anyway. Shocker.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" what's the most important thing you've learned about yourself or other people going through your divorce? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt; 3:14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think one of the things I learned through the divorce is that I'm not as mentally strong as I thought I was. I know people say that divorce is right up there with a death, as far as stress goes, and that's no joke. It freakin' sucks. You're happy to move on, then you're pissed how it happened, then you're lonely, then you're happy to meet new people, then you're mad again, then, then, then then thendskfghldfjshgdf..........and it's just overwelming. There are also little things that I learned about myself, but the major one is my so called toughness....for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now with other people....hmmm.......the one thing that sucked, was the divide that is created between the two parties friends and family. It's like one minute everyone gets along, and then the next minute , ties are cut. Just like that. I learned that alot of people like to weight in on the matter and make the divorce much harder than it needed to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" were you surprised or was it a long time coming? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, it wasn't a sudden thing with us, but to other's it probably came as quite a shock. I wouldn't have had it any other way though really, cuz I always figured our marriage problems were our own problems to deal with. That was another issue that we had. She liked to discuss every one of our problems with anyone and everyone., while I was more tight lipped. We had argued alot and mentioned it more than a few times and it just finally happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" if you were to die tomorrow what/who would you miss the most? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this one's simple. I'd miss all my friends and especially my cats.....but if you're dead, how can you actually "miss" someone. Let's not talk about me dying quite yet, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" how is the relationship with your invisible friend? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's actually going quite well, but there are times when he/she is kind of intrusive....such as using the toilet, masterbating, showering, ....ya know, "me" time. I'm trying to teach him/her to change the litter box though, which isn't going over so well.&lt;br /&gt;*sarcasm*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NEXT!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,102,255)"&gt;" How did you meet your ex? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;Lori&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I think it was late at night on the corner of 16th and J.&lt;br /&gt;*kidding*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually it was one of those "friend of a friend" deals, and it was inside of a club. Not very romantic....I assure you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many "Ex" questions. Are you girls enjoying yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" I've noticed that you've gotten a little touchy when the subject of school has come up. Do you regret that you never obtained a college degree? Is there a reason why you didn't and have you ever considered going back to school? Do you feel okay with yourself for not having obtained a degree or is this something that makes you uncomfortable? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Jill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't recall being touchy about the subject honestly....maybe I just habitually ignore it. I went to a junior college for a total of 2 1/2 yrs and studied the general requirements as well as a bunch of computer programming ones. I quickly discovered that I wasn't into the progamming AT ALL and stopped, thinking I'd find another subject. Obviously I never went back and I can't say I really regret it right now. I'm one of those people that likes to learn and study on my own time. School was never that difficult for me, but I never put my full energy into it. I know "self taught" isn't somthin' you can put on paper so I can't say that it's a good thing. I rarely did the homework and just relied on coming in and getting a good grade on the tests. Everything was half ass so it wasn't worth continuing at the time. I know that I'd probably get a degree in somthin' that I'd never use....I mean I still don't even know what kind of new job field I want to go in right now. I'm just a complete mindfuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" Geeze. So many ex questions. I want to know the important stuff like Top 5 Island Albums, what songs you sing the loudest to in your car, and how you take your coffee. Oh, and why you refuse to go outside in your underwear when it's cold. "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;RSM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, right? She's getting too much attention on this little feature huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I've said before, I'm always playing some tunes, whether on the ipod, the computer, cd, or radio. I think I drive my co-workers crazy cuz I'm constantly singing....hell I'm singing as I sit at my desk here typing this. Now I'm FAR from a good singer, I just dig my music. I'll get louder when I'm alone obviously....but ya, I'm a singin' fool now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My coffee? I don't drink it all that much really.....but it's usually with ALOT of sugar. Actually I'm having some now. Black, with a couple scoops of sugar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now as far as the underwear issues goes, it all depends on how cold it is, why I'm running outside, and who's going to see me. I just have to be careful cuz there are certain boxers that have loose "flaps" that allow my junk to sneak out....and if it's cold outside then I surely wouldn't have much to look at, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" Are you now the kind of man you would like to be married to if you were the right woman ? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Anne Elizabeth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hrmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm by no means, some brilliant catch. I guess I'm not sure how to answer this really...I mean it would seem silly if I were to say "No, I wouldn't marry me".&lt;br /&gt;I think it IS safe to say that I will keep anyone on their toe's, at all times. I wasn't a terrible catch in the begininng, and I've certainly learned alot more since then. How's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" What issue seesm to crop up repeatedy in your relationships -- and what part do you have in creating it ? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've mentioned that I wander on here before, and that certainly has been a problem in the past. I do it with friends, family, and significant others, no matter where I'm at. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it really is a bad habit. I could be out at a gathering, bar, family function, you name it...and I'll dissapear into the crowd. I don't do it cuz I don't want to be with who I came with at all. I don't know why I do it. I just wander. It's caused a fair amount of arguements cuz it just rude. I'm trying to work on that alot more recently.....sit still Dustin, sit still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also cases where I could be having a dissagreement, and I come to the conclusion that what we are discussing is stupid, and I'll just walk away. I hate arguing so freaking much that I'll become selfish in the discussion and just end it. That tends to fuel the fire more. I've spent too many days of my life arguing....I'm just not going to do it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" Are you more of a taker than a giver -- and why or why not ? (This is in regards to the lady who said you wanted comments on your blog, but you tend not to comment frequently on others...) "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think I'm both. I take what I can get and give what I can. I'd like to think that I'm not a selfish person. There are certain ticks that I might have, but for the most part, I live by the theory that what's mine is yours. (with friends of course )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....on that note, I DO need to update my links section and I would be more than happy to take care of ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" I've got one, that isn't really all that deep - whats your favourite movie quote of all time?&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Beth &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really can't pull a favorite qoute out of my head right now. I suck, I know. I don't think I really have one. I'll come back to this in a bit...how's that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" You said you would never have gotten married if you had to go back and change things - why then DID you get married? What were your motivations at the time? Did you do it just because it was the next progressive step in the relationship? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Lawnut&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm saying NOW, that I shouldn't have married. It's easy to say that after it's all and done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer is simple though, I loved her. We were together for many years and the obvious next step was to get married. It didn't really happen as *I* wanted it to happen though. An ultimatum was laid out that if we weren't getting married by a certain time, that she'd have to move on. I'm a firm believer that the relationship was all downhill from that point but we gave it a try anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" What has been the happiest day of your life thus far? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow....you know what sucks, is that I really can't think of a specific day that stands out among others. Does everyone have a definite day in their minds that is the "best" of all time? I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that this isn't a question most guys could come up with a quick answer for. I think the stock answer for dad's would be - " when my kids were born"....but other than what, I think you'd get alot of stumped looks. Maybe I'm wrong...I'll ask around the office here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA!!! ok I was right. They all looked at me like I was an idiot or they said "when my kids were born"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I win. (but thanks for making me looking stupid by asking everyone that )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" I'm with Tania - when did you get laid last? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I don't know.....I think I'm going to save myself for marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pshhhh.....yea right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm, I'm not sure? I don't really keep track but it hasn't been too recent. I've told you guys that I've been keeping to myself. I'd say it's been over 2 months? I can't look at a calendar and give you an exact date cuz I really don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" Where did you meet your ex-wife? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Manic Mommy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I already answered that one earlier. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" How long did you date? and how long were you married? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;God damn. The "ex" questions are endless. I want to ask YOU GIRLS , why the curiousity in her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dated for 5 years, lived together for 3 of those 5 years ( i think that's right? ) and married for a year and a half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" What factors did you bring into the marriage that attributed to the divorce? What factors did SHE bring into the marriage that attributed to the divorce? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my side it was due to the fact that I developed the bad habits that I mentioned earlier on. Like I said, I was unhappy and unfortunately that was my outlet. Sucks, but it's the truth. I don't mind answering questions about myself on here as it's a site about me and my life, but I don't think it's fair for me to give specifics about another person (even if she was my wife) without her knowledge....ya know? I can give vague answers on some of these questions but I'm kind of walking a thin line when talking about someone else. I'll just say that we both contributed to the demise of the marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" Did you or she ever cheat on one another when you were dating/engaged/married? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm....I don't know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Technically we are both cheating as the actual divorce isn't final yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....and for you last statement, no, I really mind discussing most. There are some questions here that I come to and kind of flinch at but only cuz I'm having one of those days at work. I said I'd answer anything thrown my way so I'd be an idiot for taking that back. It was a little easier answering these the other day when I wasn't so grumpy. Today, on the other hand, I've cursed out at a few of you for what you have asked. No joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grrrrr....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" Are you happy with where you are in life and do you feel at home in your own skin? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Spicy Little Pi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I can't say that I'm entirely happy where I am in life right now. It's just been a shit year in general.....actually the worst year ever. I've spent a good part of it trying to dig out of this hole that was created during the split and it's been much harder than I ever anticipated it would be. It's all very humbling and embarrassing all at the same time. Fortunately things are starting to come together more as of late and I keep reminding myself that it's all going to be up from here on out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as feeling comfortable in my skin, yea.....maybe a little too comfortable. I'm by no means, some cocky schmuck, but I'm also not some passive dude. It's hard to catch me off guard or put me on tilt. I'm not sure how else to explain myself on here without sounding stupid ( ahhh shit I think it's too late for that huh? ) so maybe someone that know's me can help out and leave a comment with their interpretation of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" What was your most embarassing moment? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Shannon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm this one might take some thought for a few reasons....let me come back to this k?&lt;br /&gt;(haHAHAHAHAahahahah you just hate me right now don't you?....this is great!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" When are you coming to visit us up in Canada (Sorry... all the other questions were so serious!) "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Supafab&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know huh? It's my own fault though, so whatever. I've always wondered why there is such a high volume of bloggers from Canada. I've come to the conclusion that there really isn't all that much to do up there but play hockey and uh......drink Pabst. That allows much more time on the computer, which is great cuz it allows me to have somthin' to read. Here's the thing though, I don't like hockey, no wait, I think hockey is utterly boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*ooooh I see all the wide eyed canucks as I write this !! *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to watch it, so don't assume that I'm just being ignorant. My point is, I'd love to visit, if you guys promised to show me around during the off season or somthin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" What did you do to Tania (or NOT do??) to piss her off? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Cap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh she hates me for some reason. Wait, no, she doesn't hate me....she just doesn't like me. Fortunately, I don't feel the same and I just get a kick out of her attitude. That reminds me, I have to finish answering her questions. Shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;" How did you propose and how much did the ring cost? "&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Tania&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well let's see if I can piece this all together. The ring wasn't all that expensive really. I think it was somewhere around 700?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scenario? I had different idea's in my head on what I could do, but everything seemed so cliche. I took some time to think about it but the actual setting happened to be a spur of the moment idea. Our dog had a habit of picking up things around the house and bringing them to either of us without actually chewing on them. One night I pulled one such thing out of her mouth and instantly thought it would be cute/funny if I took the ring box and put it in her mouth and had her walk over to her so she could take it out of her mouth. I waited until it was time for bed and slipped it to our dog and sent her on her way. After scolding her and finding a box in the mouth, she looked a little confused/shocked/happy and turned around and I was behind her on the usual " take a knee" stance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheesey....I know....I suck....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; How old were you when you lost your virginity? And did you cry afterward? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999900;"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Shannon&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears of happiness? Come on now....I had to act tough for the couple of minutes that it lasted. I was 17 years old and it was actually the first for both of us. So romantic right? It wasn't as awkward as mosts people's first was, I'm sure. We had been dating and were had a true puppy love thing going on. I still say that she's the only "x" girlfriend that I'd ever consider having a relationship with again cuz we didn't end on a bad note ( I moved ). I don't think we ever argued or anything....but it's not like we were dating for a mass amount of years either. She was just a terribly sweet girl. I ran into her some years back but didn't really get to talk to her much as I wasn't single at the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116112165963143588?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116112165963143588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116112165963143588' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116112165963143588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116112165963143588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/ahem-check-check.html' title='*Ahem* ....check, check.....'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116098331940961694</id><published>2006-10-15T22:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T00:49:55.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weeks End</title><content type='html'>I always end up feeling much better come sunday night, right before the start of a new work week. I went through a good majority of the week feeling like shit and as if on cue, it's over. Time for work. Ah well.....money doesn't make itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step three is going.....as going goes. I realize that this isn't going to be an immediate change, but that doesn't mean I'm any less impatient about it. I've had many idea's and suggestions floated my way, and I'm taking them all in. I don't expect there to be some sort of flash of light that hits me and everything comes together. That's just not going to happen. At least I don't think it is....who know's. All this is all new to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that it's time to start working out again. It's been awhile since I dedicated myself to a workout routine and I suppose now is a good time to put some energy back into that. Hell, I've got plenty of time for it. It's not that I'm terribley out of shape, cuz that's not the case.....but there is always room for improvement. If anything, it should allow me to vent my daily fustrations, as wwell as feel physically better day in and day out. I think I shall start tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any objections?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/knees.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/knees.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Few Notes  on Saturdays fights  -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh Rich....where was your clinche defense at dude? Those knee's were your ultimate demise (though that left jab rearranged your nose quite well).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we have a new 185lb champ. Given, Anderson Silva is a bad ass...and is just a terrific stand up technician.&lt;br /&gt;BUT.&lt;br /&gt;Franklin is the pretty much the poster boy for the organization. I think I could even hear Dana cussing to himself from where I was sitting. Even the crowd seemed stunned and as quiet as I've ever heard when a belt is rewarded to a new face. Ouch. Sure, it's going to make for a great rematch.....but it's going to have to wait until a few heads stop spinning after this ass wuppin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, Jon Fitch = bad ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....other than that, the fights were just so so. I'm thinking about getting in the ring myself now. Screw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung out with miss priss again the other night and had a blast. No suprise there. She's caught me on days that I've been nothing but pissy and down, and turned them around like it was no big deal. People who know me well, know that's not always an easy task. I think I lucked out with the fact that she doesn't know anyone in town here except co-workers. That leaves more time for me. How sweet is that? I'm ready for another round.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116098331940961694?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116098331940961694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116098331940961694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116098331940961694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116098331940961694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/weeks-end.html' title='Weeks End'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116087508504252667</id><published>2006-10-14T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T03:16:44.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Filler no Killer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;Once again I'm stuck inside coughing, sneezing, sniffling.....much more than the previous few days. To save some sanity, I thought I'd sit down and steal an idea that I've noticed on a few recent blogs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;10 songs from your Ipod/Itunes, on shuffle mode.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;Here's the thing....I don't think most of the people out there are actually documenting each and every song that comes up on their shuffle. I don't have any way of proving it though so I guess I should just shut up. Here's my own little attempt at it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Samiam&lt;/span&gt; -" Stepson " (Clumsy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember buying this cd (Clumsy) during my senior year of high school (94-95) and I think I hammered the whole thing for a good 4-5 months before it became lost. Somehow or another I forgot about the band and didn't rediscover them until this year on soulseek. What's odd is that although this is over 10 years old, it sounds very much like the emotional alternative sounds of today. They've since put out quite a few cd's and Stepson is one of the better songs on this cd imo ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;DJ Shadow&lt;/span&gt; - "Rabbit in the headlights"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song makes me think about Donnie Darko everytime I hear it. It's an up and down drum beat accompanied by some light piano work, with vocals from radiohead. Mellow and intense all at the same time. Shadow used to be a frequent visitor of the record shop on K st which is a good 5 minutes from where I sit. I've honestly never been the biggest fan of dj shadow but there is a time and place for most of his music. I'm just rarely in that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"&gt;Me First and the Gimme Gimme's&lt;/span&gt; - "Over the rainbow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*laff*...brilliant. This is a punk cover of the song you all know. Sing with me " SOME WHERE OVER THE RAINBOW WAY UP HIGH, THERE'S A LAND I HEARD OF ONCE IN A LULLABYE....!!" I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. You'd like this....and if you didn't at first, it would grow on you. Punk bands typically like to throw in an old cover song into their arsenal but this whole cd was nothing but covers. I caught Taxi-Cab Confessions one time on HBO and noticed they had used this song during the credits....I'm not sure if it was always used, but regardless, I thought it was kinda funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 0);"&gt;Grouch&lt;/span&gt; - "Making perfect sense"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just pure underground hip hop. I've never been a huge fan of RAP (though I have a fair share of it). The Grouch is a good example of a more intelligent hip hop sound. If you're looking for the usual "ho's, bro's and 4-o's" then this guy isn't for you. Good shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;Ray Charles&lt;/span&gt; - "Somewhere over the rainbow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa....ok that is just not normal. I have most of Ray Charles songs on this ipod, but I can't even fathom the last time that this song came up on shuffle. It must have felt a little bit bitter after listening to a faster harder version of it just a few minutes ago. This is another reason why I think that there are some sort of magical powers within the Ipod species.&lt;br /&gt;While I'm at it, I'd like to say F Jamie Foxx for his attempt to assume the role as Ray. I'm not talking about the movie itself, but how he reacted after filming it....his attitude, his tv performances, etc. Get your own gig buddy, you're no Ray Charles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yea....and Jarhead was garbage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Jay-Z&lt;/span&gt; - "99 Problems"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhhh sing it with me..."I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one.."&lt;br /&gt;So true. So true. This should be my anthem right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;A Perfect Circle&lt;/span&gt; - "Judith"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was never a big fan of them or Tool, but I have a handful of their songs that made it to the radio waves. This song is probably my favorite of the small group. I can't help but scream along with this song everytime that I hear it. Did it alll for youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! Good stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);"&gt;Dashboard Confessional&lt;/span&gt; - "Reason to Believe"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PIMP. Always good shit. He seems to add a new band member with each cd he releases. Eary stuff focused on his superb EMOtional lyrics and his own guitar work.....and has progressed to todays sounds of a full on stage band. I tend to shy away from alot of bands as the get older as they get a bit more stale with each cd, but I can't say that I'm bored with any of his yet. This song is one of my favorites on the cd, and I'm pretty sure I heard it playing on the XBoX 360's Madden game (roomate plays alot) recently. Good stuff...check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;DOA&lt;/span&gt; - "Fuck You"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHA!!!!!! Ya.....I doubt most of you will ever hear this. Older punk, and no, not pop punk. Move along now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"&gt;Mazzy Star&lt;/span&gt; - Sweet Jane&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh who doesn't like this song? (Think natural born killers soundtrack and no I haven't seen it)The original was done by Lou Reed and one can't help but sit back and rock back and forth to this tune. I suppose this is a perfect song to end a quick little blog shuffle. Once again the Ipod comes up big. Scarey...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC04425.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/DSC04425.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well that didn't go so bad. I was expecting to have somthin' a bit more random come up. Trust me, when you have over 8,000 songs going, you're bound to have alot of embarrasing ones. Yea I have ALOT of songs on the itunes program. I stopped buying cd's years ago and don't feel an ounce of guilt. Sue me. I'd rather listen to my records anyway. I have very little of my deep house tunes on the ipod. I'd rather dig through my vinyl for that, plus I honestly don't have any room for them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have more than a fair share of guilty pleasure songs and they usually come up at the worst times. Most cases it's at work and I leave the office for a bit to come back to several people standing by my desk with with that "wtf are you listening to this for" look. My usual response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"ya....I know I need to update. I used to share this with my X"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That excuse used to actually work awhile ago, but now that everyone has an ipod now, it's become the excuse of millions. I refuse to delete my songs so I'll have to come up with somthin' new now. I know you guys have similar scenario's......maybe I can borrow a line from you. I suppose I could just suck it up and admit it huh? Naw...fuck that. I've got too much pride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116087508504252667?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116087508504252667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116087508504252667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116087508504252667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116087508504252667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/all-filler-no-killer_14.html' title='All Filler no Killer'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116063906863785019</id><published>2006-10-12T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T11:29:49.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Morning</title><content type='html'>I'd like to go to sleep right now, but can't.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning feeling a bit more tired than usual, and as the day wore on, felt sicker and sicker. Throat hurts. Slight cough. Little sniffles. Great. Lovely. I have to admit that I'm not really a good patient. I tend to grumble and grunt alot more than usual.....it's quite fun really. It's amazing how much pain I can take to my body itself, but once I get ill, I become just a pain in the ass. It's best just to lock me up in a room somewhere and slip fish biscuits under the door. I stayed in and worked from the apartment today and took a few naps, and yes that's why I can't sleep right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone interested in caring for me now?.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)"&gt;Anyone&lt;/span&gt;?.....&lt;br /&gt;Bueller?.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of fish biscuits, Lost once again has grabbed my attention. I was just about to complain about the episode tonight until the last 3 minutes. The bait tactics on this show are just amazing aren't they? I've watched every episode since the beginning and I still haven't a fucking clue what is going on within this island. No clue whatsoever! Each week we tune in for just a little teaser, and in reality, we leave with more questions than answers after every damn episode. ABC will keep teasing us, and we will keep coming back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The writers - "You wanna see? You WANNA See?!? ......................&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;NO&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,153,51)"&gt;argh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,153)"&gt;FUCK. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tune in next week. Move along!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are such lemmings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whoa deja vue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ya, I'm talking about tv again, which basically means I'm not out and about. I can't say I'm pleased with this situation either. I know this sounds pitiful, but I'm bored....I'm lonely.  The idle mind is the devils playground, ya know? Everyone is married. Everyone has kids. They've got things to do and I don't, so what is this bachelor to do? A couple days ago, I took a solo trip downtown cuz I couldn't take it anymore. Years of djing with friends have helped me out, cuz it's pretty easy to go downtown alone, and run into some people you know. I ran into some people just within walking a block or so, which was good. I had a few drinks and called it a night. Nothing big really, but it was nice to get out and see people's reaction when I'm spotted out and about. It always gets me right there....ya, right there. *points*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few nights after that, I was scheduled to hang out with lil miss pris(new friend in town) but had to cancel for shitty, but legit, reasons. Now she's convinced that I made up an excuse for the night and didn't want to hang out. (Yea I'm talking about you) So now I'm going on a few bored and lonely days and need to vent. This bachelor is losin' his mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow you say? .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Let's do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116063906863785019?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116063906863785019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116063906863785019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116063906863785019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116063906863785019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/good-morning.html' title='Good Morning'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116051935685249535</id><published>2006-10-10T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T01:31:38.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Step 3</title><content type='html'>I made it clear months ago, that I wanted to change some things in my life. It was clear that I didn't have the energy or will power to succeed in doing many steps at once, so I opted to do one major step at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;Step one&lt;/span&gt; - Get off the Anti-Depressant Effexor. &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;Finished&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt;Step two &lt;/span&gt;- Quit Smoking. &lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt;Done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both steps were a pain in the ass in their own ways and I don't expect them to get any easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I've bitched about my current job situation. I want to clarify that my dislike of it has nothing to do with the people I work with. I consider them all very good friends and they have nothing to do with my current thoughts. I want to focus more time on myself.....to focus on what I REALLY want to do. I'm only responsible for taking care of myself right now, so I think it's the perfect time to sort this shit out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,0)"&gt;Step Three&lt;/span&gt; - Find a new job field. ( My current one can be found in the "My Other Sites" links to the right. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the scarey thing....I really don't know what I want to do right now. This step might take ALOT longer than the previous two, but like I said, now's as good as a time as any. At this point, I'm open for any idea's  just to get the ball rolling. I know there is somthin' else out there that I will find way more appealing and excel at....I just need to find out what it is. I can continue to work for the business I am in right now (alot work from home) but I'd like to take another avenue as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and you guys wonder why I'm stressed. Couldn't I just create an easier list to accomplish this year? I'm only on step three right now. Christ.....what am I doing to myself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to keep reminding myself, when the world changes you, you can change the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.break.com/MTU3ODMw" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116051935685249535?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116051935685249535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116051935685249535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116051935685249535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116051935685249535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/step-3.html' title='Step 3'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116051352590426377</id><published>2006-10-10T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T14:49:15.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Haasienda</title><content type='html'>I'm back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a few things to add here but I thought I would take a quick moment and put up a few pics that I had taken at Big H's end of summer Haasienda shindig. I kept forgetting to put them up so they aren't exactly timely, but then again...maybe they are. Thanks for keeping the ball rollin' with the guest posts my friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Big H) Macho Man and his meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC05723.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/DSC05723.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Macho Man in training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC05728.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/DSC05728.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to suggest building a slide from this point in the yard but then reconsidered, seeing as I'm trying to keep a theme here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next thought?....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Build A Plank.  A very long Plank. ARGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC05727.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/DSC05727.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/DSC05722.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/DSC05722.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;....and that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My batteries died after taking just a few shots upon arriving  and Jayme informed me that you guys didn't have any extra AA batteries for me. ( I didn't bother asking how you managed to go through them all ...none of my business right? Right! )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now everyone has to wait until next summer for more pics. HAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116051352590426377?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116051352590426377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116051352590426377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116051352590426377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116051352590426377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/haasienda.html' title='Haasienda'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116049733418734720</id><published>2006-10-10T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T09:45:36.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Macho is a dying breed (another Guest Post by Big H)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dustin is AWOL, so I thought I'd keep the spirit alive here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I got a phone call the other day...well it wasn't really for me so I ended up taking a message for the wife&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://img8.imagepile.net/img8/46913gc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img8.imagepile.net/img8/46913gc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Now I'm not one to usually take messages, so I thought I did a good job. Needless to say, I later found out that my message taking skills are VASTLY out of whack. Should I have known that it was a gynecologist and not a college calling? Perhaps I should have thought of "pap smear" instead of "Pabst Beer"? I thought I did a stellar job by asking my wife about an apparent change in her likes and dislikes, and was ready for a presentation of a GOLD STAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.francesandcompany.com/asicrystal/Star1/S432_Electroplated_Gold_Star_WoodenBase.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.francesandcompany.com/asicrystal/Star1/S432_Electroplated_Gold_Star_WoodenBase.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Needless to say, the award ceremony never happened. Maybe I'm just too "macho". It's a dying breed. Here's a cold hard fact that we men must now chew and swallow: if you are a man and reading this, you are not macho. Period. Case closed. Macho men do not read anything other than Guns and Ammo, Sports Illustrated, or Juggs magazine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sit your soft little ass down and listen up. Understanding macho means that you don't possess it. I am actually proving myself to be a pussy because I am writing this. You might disagree, saying other writers, like Ernest Hemingway, can write about macho, right? Wrong. Ernest lived a very macho life and wrote some very macho stories. But Ernest threw it all away by blowing his head off with a shotgun. Very unmacho. Real men do not commit suicide. Real men know just how much life sucks. Real men grit their teeth and take it bill after bill, war after war, tumor after tumor. Real men wear black. You don't greet Death, you punch him in the throat repeatedly as he drags you away. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's hard to live by the old macho code these days. Society has chipped away at it over the years, slowly but surely. Drinking has been reduced to a few beers or a couple of shots, if that. Frosted hair, manicured eyebrows, body waxing, lotions, colognes, facials, massages, manicures, pedicures, personal trainers and vegan diets. Men have feelings too. Come cry with me Frank, I need a group hug. Enough is enough! One has to go no further than Hollywood to see how far a REAL MAN has fallen. John Wayne would have eaten Brad Pitt for lunch, and then perhaps eaten Orlando Bloom as a post-meal snack.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Men should be men and women should be women. Women should be soft and smart and mysterious. And men should have their own tools. I pine for the stupidity of the old days, when men would brandish hammers and build huge, bulky cars that sucked up gas, tore open the ozone layer, and crushed small animals beneath totally useless but totally cool-looking tail fins. When men would drink and fight and puke and eat raw meat right off the bone and drink some more and fight some more and puke again and keep on drinking. When men would die of massive heart attacks or sudden brain seizures or just plain fucking blew up. When men were made out of leather and had cancer six or seven times. But noooooo…not anymore… now we are, in short, supposed to be women. Hello, my name is Alice. Hold me in the morning. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We men seem a little sorrier, a little plumper, and a lot more ladylike around the edges. If you really want to reclaim your macho self, if you really want to be a macho, macho man, stop reading this right now. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If you are still reading, you probably need a little more help. Whatever you do, don't go on a Male-Bonding Self-Discovery Weekend, which is just another term for Circle Jerk. Remember: We're men -big, boxy, sweaty, ignorant men. We have penises. Well, we used to have penises. Either way, I think Billy Martin said it best when he said, "Hey, I can drive".&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And to all you women....keep being soft and smart and mysterious. Just let us stay macho.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*credit to D.Leary for a portion of the text.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/26418422-116049733418734720?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116049733418734720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116049733418734720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116049733418734720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116049733418734720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/macho-is-dying-breed-another-guest.html' title='Macho is a dying breed (another Guest Post by Big H)'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-116007466119095416</id><published>2006-10-05T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T16:35:45.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*Grunt*</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/gold_jamie_hor.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/gold_jamie_hor.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamie Gold is a twat. I hope the lawsuit against him goes through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....anyway, the time has come to update after that public castration. I'd like to thank Big Haas for his guest write up yesterday. I was going to be a smartass and post a bunch of photo's on here but I'm too lazy to look them up on google right now and I've still got alot of work to do. You guys lucked out cuz I just have a few things to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;STEP TWO&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Done&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cigarette cravings are gone. About friggin' time right? I can't lie and say that I didn't cheat a few times, but it actually worked out quite well. It was alot harder than I thought it was going to be, due to the fact that I had no help from any nicotine related items (nicoderm/etc). I can safely say that I don't feel the urges anymore. I. Am. The. Winner. Step three coming soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went out with a certain someone that's new in town and had a blast. I'm making it my duty to make sure she enjoys her move here. Easy task right? Hopefully she had fun as well. I'm not about to go into detail on here for a few reasons, one being that she knows about this site here. That's just unfair huh? ;) (If you're reading this, you still haven't found what we were discussing last night. I'll chalk it up as a win on my side) &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Woot!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm now going to jump the gun and post some information that still isn't finished  right now. Don't bother looking around the UFC home site, as it's not going to be there. Here's the real deal. Listen up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;November 18th. UFC 65!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hughes vs St Pierre (providing they are both healthy). This was the fight that was supposed to happen a couple weeks ago but fell apart due to an injury to St Pierre. We all know Penn stepped in and ended up losin' a match that he had wrapped up for 2 rounds. (Rib Injury) Now it's time for the real deal....and possibly a new champ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;other fights....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim Sylvia vs Jeff Monson for the heavyweight title. Zzzzzzzz......... I would like to see Monson take this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank Mir vs Brandon Vera. Zzzzzz.......would someone please shoot Mir. This horse has gone lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;plus Michael Bisping (pimp), joe stevenson, nick diaz and a few others that haven't finished signing yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now locals, pay attention....here's the kicker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Location - Sacramento. Yup...at the Arco Arena.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First time in Sactown. Don't question me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My work is done. Carry on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-116007466119095416?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/116007466119095416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=116007466119095416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116007466119095416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/116007466119095416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/grunt.html' title='*Grunt*'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115999057738425553</id><published>2006-10-04T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T14:02:18.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Less "Bachelor", more "Tony Montana" (Big H's guest post)</title><content type='html'>With the latest post detailing the early night exploits of our Bachelor cuddled up in his robe watching "The Bachelor" with a tub of popcorn, a cat, and his remote, I thought it time to inject some testosterone back into this place. After all, how soon until we see Dustin taking in other manly shows such as:&lt;a href="http://www.cfhf.net/lyrics/images/days.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.cfhf.net/lyrics/images/days.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;or deliriously following the lusty culinary exploits of his main man:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fabioifc.com/fabio/FABGIFS/fabad21adtrk2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.fabioifc.com/fabio/FABGIFS/fabad21adtrk2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nossir, as a friend I cannot allow it. So to put some razzle dazzle back into the blog, I've hired a man among men, a virtual giant of the hype, the master of the mic.....the KING!! Take it Don...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ggrw.org/RNCCarrie_DonKing2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.ggrw.org/RNCCarrie_DonKing2.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"All things considered, the Chronicles need some good old fashioned panache...a veritable proliferation of splendiferous magnitude that has not been seen in a multitude of ages! With my proclivity towards proliferous proclamatorious prelection, I BRING YOU...SCARFACE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This place needs more Tony Montana in it!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize you don't have time to watch the WHOLE movie if you haven't seen it to know what I mean, but I have provided a short 1m32s clip that captures the essence of the movie (and what Dustin needs to do). Enjoy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x7fEWpWc4WE" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/26418422-115999057738425553?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115999057738425553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115999057738425553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115999057738425553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115999057738425553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/less-bachelor-more-tony-montana-big-hs.html' title='Less &quot;Bachelor&quot;, more &quot;Tony Montana&quot; (Big H&apos;s guest post)'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115990190256365316</id><published>2006-10-03T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T13:51:46.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Guys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Pablocut.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/Pablocut.4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd provide a little treat for everyone today cuz I'm sure we could all use a good laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet Pablo Francisco.....my favorite comedian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there are some people on here that are already clued in to who he is, but I'm going to be an ambassador and introduce the rest of you to him. I challenge anyone viewing this to NOT add him as one of your favorite comedians after watching the video I provided. I am not responsible for anyone that happens to shit themselves while watching this. See my shit-eating grin? This dude can entertain for dayyyyyys. Sure, I'm a wee bit drunk in the picture, but you're going to have to trust me on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PV4Hzjl2OL4"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PV4Hzjl2OL4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115990190256365316?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115990190256365316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115990190256365316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115990190256365316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115990190256365316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/funny-guys.html' title='Funny Guys'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115989994581790849</id><published>2006-10-03T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T12:35:23.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bachelor</title><content type='html'>My hiatus from the world lately has caused me to watch more television than I'd like to admit. My tube time used to include various news programs with the occasional drama. That has since changed. I've watched quite a few of the new programs this season as well as catching some "old" ones that have been a favorite to many. Tonight I caught one of those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;The Bachelor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know.....cheesey, right? I thought I might as well check out my competetion *sarcasm* and see what this is all about. I'd sat down in the past and watched brief moments of it but never really watched a whole episode or followed any of the personalities on the show. I thought I might sit down and pick apart a bit of the new show simply because I'm not ready for bed yet and I've got nothing else to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're thrilled aren't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This season's bachelor seems to be quite the catch for all these women. Decent looking, seems to be easy to talk, ridiculously rich, and best of all....a prince. So far, so good. At one point in the show, he brought up that he had somewhat of a difficult time meeting girls in the New York area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uhhh......what? Come on dude, you'll get no pity party from viewers on that one. I'll disregard that statement for now and continue to watch the show and see how he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he is *stuck* with narrowing down mutliple beauties on the show, so that he may meet the special someone and possibly, yes possibly, marry one. Ahhh how viewers love to watch this kind of stuff unfold. It's fair to say that the majority of us are searching for the same thing that this show is based on.....but this, this is so far from reality that it hurts. The location itself (Italy) is going to create such a romantic setting that one can't help but succumb to the mushy feelings that the producers are hoping to create. It's already become a real live fairytale for each and every girl on the show....and it seems they've all melted over him without knowing what they are getting into. Now given, they all volunteered to do the show, but I can't help but feel that many are going to be taken advantage of. I suppose it'll make for good tv so I'll just say fuck it and watch on like most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight started off with 25 girls, and his duty was to meet all and narrow the field down to half by sun up. Decisions, decisions. I understand that it's difficult to really get a grasp of each person there, but that time should be enough to find out who's there to actually find somthin' real, or if they've fallen for the image that was created of the guy himself, before they even met him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm either dead wrong, or he's blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the producers urged him to keep certain girls for dramatic purposes. Maybe he really doesn't like a few that he choose to keep, and he's just doing it for kicks. Maybe I'm the idiot for buying it. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's fair to say that I think he (Lorenzo) breezed over a few girls that in my opinion, were quite a catch. I know little about their backgrounds, but their body language, looks, and attitude, were FAR more appealling than some of his choices to stay on the show. Why did he keep that annoying spoiled little blonde girl? Sure, she's kind of cute....then that horrible hole of a mouth opens up, and the beauty dissapears. She made a big deal about flying COACH for her first time to come on the show, and claimed to have never cleaned anything in her life, as she's always hired a butler AND EVEN HER ROOMATE IN COLLEGE to clean for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NEXT!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone care to explain to me why he decided to keep such a high maintenence spoiled bitch in the house? Seriously. Wtf is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show has the token party girl....the token virgin, and even the hot Italian local. Lovely. Good times. I think there are 3 that I actually thought were quite good but don't bother asking me their names as I can't remember shit. I might have to catch them on the next episode (ya I'll watch again, shut up) just to see if my first impressions are correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My final impression? Well....again, there's nothing real about this setting at all. I suppose that's the whole appeal of the show though, right? The guy isn't your normal catch. The setting isn't the normal atmosphere. The showering of gifts is insane. It's all too......perfect. How about we throw a normal guy like myself, admittedly down on his luck, but optimistic of the future, on the show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it wouldn't be fairytale enough though, huh? Ah well....I'll catch it again next week and see how much I'm going to have to battle for the true "&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;bachelor&lt;/span&gt;" moniker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115989994581790849?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115989994581790849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115989994581790849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115989994581790849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115989994581790849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/bachelor.html' title='The Bachelor'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115982101677213986</id><published>2006-10-02T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T16:26:19.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rabblings</title><content type='html'>I always assume that it goes unnoticed when I'm away from the computer for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of nice to see that sometimes I'm wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor Grace and Grins. They've both held the site down for me while I'm gone and I'm forever in debt because of it. How shall I return the favor? Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few notes here while I finish up things in the office here....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not looking for a sponsorship in flying me out somewhere. (brat) I wrote that up super fast while I was heading out the door last week and maybe it came out wrong. Sorry about that. I AM serious about hearing from people around the states AND canada (nice try again) on idea's of where to go. Once the monetary status is back to normal, I would really like to take the occasional weekend to go out and wander. This site is a perfect outlet for such a deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what was I doing these last few days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have poison oak. I was not eating buffalo wings off various womens breasts. There were no breast to be licked. I didn't even see any on tv. Hmph. I was not humping legs, though I might have straddled a table leg without anyone noticing. The cabana boy idea isn't bad, but that shall have to come a little later. I have not stepped out with my vinyl to dj in some time still and don't really feel the need to. When djing, your energy is very important in controlling the crowd. It's difficult being a puppeteer when you're lacking the energy so it's pointless for me to even consider it. Make sense? There were also no kidnappings or elastic bands involved this weekend. I've kept away from the spa for a little while but I have heard the occasional sound of skateboard wheels rolling down the concrete. The search is on. My only appearance out of the cage, was to attend one of my best friends babyshower. I have a few pictures but I haven't uploaded them yet. I know what you are thinking....guys at a baby shower? Yup....you missed it. Sorry ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week should be a bit different. I can't coupe myself up any longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grrrrrrrrrrrr.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the plans? I don't have any really. It'll come to me when needed. I'm trying to get alot of shit done at work that needs to be finished first. I can't say I'm completely happy with everything at work currently. I can't say I've been happy with it for some time now. The setting would of been much more ideal about a year ago.....but with the divorce, there's been some serious fallout. Horrible fallout. I'm in quite a hole right now because of it and getting out has just been a complete nightmare. I realize this is all normal stuff that people deal with after a divorce but it doesn't make me feel any better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KUjghsdflkjghsa;dflkjfsa;kjgfsdlka;jg;lkjsadgf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I suspect most of my friends won't be available this weekend ( let me know if I'm wrong here ) cuz they're all married or somthin'. Ahhh I just remembered that there's someone I met through work that just moved into town here that I just might have to show around this weekend. Hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;*EDIT*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Y helllllllllllllo there.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I just noticed that there some of you select that I was at your place cuz you had treats.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Treats are good. I'm on my way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;....ahh wait, I don't know where I'm going. How fitting is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115982101677213986?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115982101677213986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115982101677213986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115982101677213986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115982101677213986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/10/rabblings.html' title='Rabblings'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115956270735685269</id><published>2006-09-29T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T14:18:32.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's WaldoDustin?</title><content type='html'>Dustin's still lost.  Since we already did a "Where should Dustin go" poll, perhaps we should do a "Where's Dustin?" one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it goes.  For this one you can have multiple......answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;!-- // Begin Pollhost.com Poll Code // --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form method="post" action="http://poll.pollhost.com/vote.cgi"&gt;&lt;table bg border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="150" style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Where's Dustin&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="1" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Suffering from poison oak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="2" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Eating buffalo wings off of ______&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="3" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Out humping legs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="4" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Cabana boy in Mexico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="5" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Returned to DJ'ing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="6" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Tangled up in elastic bands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="7" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Finally out of his cage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="5"&gt;&lt;input name="answer" value="8" type="checkbox"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-1;color:#000000;"&gt;Held hostage by skateboarders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;input name="config" value="Z3JhY2UwOTQJMTE1OTU2NDA3MglFRUVFRUUJMDAwMDAwCUFyaWFsCUFzc29ydGVk" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;input value="Vote" type="submit"&gt;  &lt;input name="view" value="View" type="submit"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" align="right" bg style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:-2;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pollhost.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Free polls from Pollhost.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!-- // End Pollhost.com Poll Code // --&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace (again &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;you guys will be sick of me soon, if not already&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115956270735685269?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115956270735685269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115956270735685269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115956270735685269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115956270735685269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/wheres-waldodustin.html' title='Where&apos;s &lt;strike&gt;Waldo&lt;/strike&gt;Dustin?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115947818495136637</id><published>2006-09-28T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T14:32:15.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dustin's MIA</title><content type='html'>I don't know where he is.  I have ideas but I'm not at liberty to say &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(**I really have no clue but it'd be fun to make up stuff, right?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in hono(u)r &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I'm Canadian, we use the "u" liberally)&lt;/span&gt; of his last post, I figured we could do a poll, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this poll is where should Dustin go. I've left some spaces blank so if you want me to put something up I could attempt to edit.  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Please don't, I have no clue how and I don't want to learn)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, an informal poll will be how fast do you think Dustin will change his password after discovering I hi-jacked his blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;!-- // Begin Pollhost.com Poll Code // --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;form method=post action=http://poll.pollhost.com/vote.cgi&gt;&lt;table border=0 width=150 bgcolor=#EEEEEE cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=2&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Where should Dustin go?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=1&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;Straight to hell....duh&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=2&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;To my house, I have some treats for him&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=3&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;To Canada to watch hockey 24/7 until he loves it&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=4&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;Texas, because everything's bigger&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=5&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;Europe to spread good American will&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=6&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;To Grace's, see #3&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=5&gt;&lt;input type=radio name=answer value=7&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-1 color="#000000"&gt;Las Vegas...what happens in Vegas...&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=2&gt;&lt;input type=hidden name=config value="Z3JhY2UwOTQJMTE1OTQ3NzMyNQlFRUVFRUUJMDAwMDAwCUFyaWFsCUFzc29ydGVk"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;input type=submit value=Vote&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;input type=submit name=view value=View&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor=#FFFFFF colspan=2 align=right&gt;&lt;font face="Arial" size=-2 color="#000000"&gt;&lt;a href=http://www.pollhost.com/&gt;&lt;font color=#000099&gt;Free polls from Pollhost.com&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!-- // End Pollhost.com Poll Code // --&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love, Grace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115947818495136637?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115947818495136637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115947818495136637' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115947818495136637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115947818495136637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/dustins-mia.html' title='Dustin&apos;s MIA'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115940083462176146</id><published>2006-09-27T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T18:00:46.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Hump Day?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/53680-Poopie-humping-my-leg-1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/53680-Poopie-humping-my-leg-1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When I did a search for "hump day" images on Google, 80% of them ended up dealing with household pets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wtf is that all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has "hump day" gone to the dogs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We humans must fight to reclaim this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must bring sexy back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what came over me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched Boogie Nights last night.....maybe that's it.  I'd never seen the flick before and was told it was quite good. I wasn't too impressed myself and the last mirror scene caused  me to tie a rubber band from my penis to my toes in hope that it'll stretch overnight. I woke up with additional scratches instead of length. Dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well.....I tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Movin' right along!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are approaching October now which couldn't seem to come quick enough for me right now. You know how as we get older, the years seem to fly by quicker? This year was an exception as it was in slow motion. No, no, it was in SUPER slow motion. Brutal. I can safely say that this is probably the worst year of my life and I realize that sounds pitiful, but it's just the facts. The upside is knowing that it's just going to get better as the months push along. I haven't been going out and about at all still but I'm starting to really think about going out and bartending somewhere fun in the evenings for the little extra income ( i could use it right now ) and just for the fact that I'd like somthin' fun to do at night. That mean's I'll be going from djing the bars and clubs to running the bar.....which could be fun. I need a little excitement right now so I can't see much harm in it. I need to get out...run my mouth, flirt, etc etc. I don't feel like doing any club-like  settings, so I need to figure out where I want to go. Due time. Due time......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get my financial situation back to the point that I can take an trip to somewhere random over the weekend, just to wander around. See new places. Maybe see some new people.&lt;br /&gt;What do you guys think of coming up with some "Fly the Bachelor to Your City" game.  There are so many places in the US that I haven't been yet .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115940083462176146?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115940083462176146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115940083462176146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115940083462176146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115940083462176146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/happy-hump-day_27.html' title='Happy Hump Day?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115923221249655514</id><published>2006-09-25T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T17:42:52.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Lesson</title><content type='html'>I've let a Monday go by without venting on the site here ( busy day at work ) so I thought I'd take a brief moment to share a little somthin' somthin' for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture is great for two reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One - I know the guy on the right, and the girl that took the shot.&lt;br /&gt;Two - They don't know I have the picture. ( I don't know how long this will stay up, so enjoy it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far so good right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to use this photo as a chance to give a little life lesson to those that need it. Now I know it appears to be a bit embarrassing, but let's look at the bright side here. Think of all the people out on the internet that will have the chance to learn from this!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gather around....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When on vacation with your significant other, you must enjoy the alone time that you have together. That's what vacation is all about. Alone time. Now say you run into some couple/couples that are staying near your place........enjoy brief time with them, just make it minimal. Don't get suckered into "having a drink" at their place, ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are we all in agreement here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....and if you get the read that they are swingers, and you're down with that, then at least choose a couple that is visually appealing to you. ( unless you're into the look below, and I'm not sure why you would)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what happens when you ignore all the signs........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/marky.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/marky.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know most of you are fixated on the boob. Let's look again. Notice the chicken-wing in the hands of the woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How freakin' pimp is that??!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothings better than having you tittah licked while a younger dude is sitting next to you, while enjoying a hotwing. Thats just fuckin heaven huh? WOW. That's amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture is so embarrassing that I'm jealous I'm not in it. Seriously. I'd never get myself into this situation, but if I did, I'd sure as hell get a shot of it....like they did. Good work guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;*update*&lt;/span&gt; Kat, the second person you see in the reflection is apparently the 18 year old SON of the couple going at it on the couch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;....yea.&lt;br /&gt;&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/26418422-115923221249655514?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115923221249655514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115923221249655514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115923221249655514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115923221249655514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/life-lesson.html' title='Life Lesson'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115894396705826174</id><published>2006-09-22T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T10:03:47.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Return of the Blah-Uggs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/122704.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/122704.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;*I had this on my old blog last year and I feel it's needed once again. They've emerged in this new fall season, once again, and I can't say I'm pleased. I've seen 3 pairs just within the first hour this morning. If you are reading this with a pair, please remove them. Just pretend we are playing strip poker or somthin'.  Ugh*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Msg to you girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A worldwide epidemic, which has been around for roughly a few years, has failed to eradicate itself, so I will do my best to assist. Indoor Outerwear is not cool. I find it to be abrasive as well as obnoxious. We do not live in a one room school house with a single wood stove heating the whole place. We go to an institution with a heating system in perfect working condition. I can understand a jacket, or wool socks... but when I see girls walking around indoors wearing a scarf, I have to stop and question. If the reason you are wearing a scarf indoors is that you would normally be wearing a turtleneck, by all means, continue. But if you are wearing the indoor scarf, to look cool, you may want to try something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the indoor scarf is annoying, nothing is more frowned upon, more annoying, and less attractive then the UGGS boots, or the indoor boot. And ladies, its not just me saying this. Every heterosexual male I have talked to think that these boots are an abomination. Not only are they horribly ugly (as their names implies), but they are pointless. They are ugly, impractical, and obnoxious. Please, when you see someone wearing outerwear indoors, let them know how you feel. Together, we can cure this epidemic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nuff said..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115894396705826174?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115894396705826174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115894396705826174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115894396705826174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115894396705826174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/return-of-blah-uggs.html' title='Return of the Blah-Uggs'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115887322209378129</id><published>2006-09-21T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T14:35:03.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Sharing</title><content type='html'>I seem to be getting alot of emails like this recently.....and I try not to read into it too much. I'll just pass this on with everyone. Whatcha think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Three Stage of a Man's Life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                           &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;BEFORE MARRIAGE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/untitledfdghfg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/untitledfdghfg.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;AFTER MARRIAGE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/fgdhffgdj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/fgdhffgdj.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                           &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;AFTER THE DIVORCE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/untitledfgdhdf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/untitledfgdhdf.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fuck that. I'm going back to stage one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115887322209378129?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115887322209378129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115887322209378129' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115887322209378129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115887322209378129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/just-sharing.html' title='Just Sharing'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115887078102956966</id><published>2006-09-21T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T14:07:24.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Me II</title><content type='html'>I made it a page and a half last night before I was greeted once again by the spa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time it was by only one.....one who's I've repeatdly heard bitching about reading and school and stuff. He's asked on several occasions, about the book I was reading, and I've shared a little background on it. (Ok smartass's....it was The Rainmaker, not playboy. You think I'm really gonna bring that out to read in front of them? I'm much more sneaky than that.) I've never told any of them that they should try reading somthin' themselves, nor have to enforced any sort of teaching or advice. It's not my style. I'm simple a figure that can show that you can be a hardass/smartass/etc and still be smart....it's ok. I remember when I was younger, being told what was cool and what I should do....never searching for it myself. I answer questions asked and let them determine whether or not it's worth them checking out for themselves. I think it's much more pleasurable to find things on your own when you are younger, with no authority involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night he brought up the fact that he started reading a certain book (a movie was made for it as well ) and I thought maybe he was just trying to create conversation until he correctly brought up the fact that a certain plot was left out in the movie.....and he didn't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where I feel stuck with the responsibility to help out. This is so damn routine. I haven't the time to keep doing this, but if I don't, who will?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit like this is remembered as you grow up, and it can be crucial. While I'm not authority figure in anyones life, I can still be someone that instilled a new vision that could potentially really help the dude out. It piss's me off that so many kids have come to me with this shit, that can't seem to be able to have this conversation with their parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so fucking fustrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was up until 5am (Again) and finished the book. It's not a bad read....just another typical legal battle read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh I guess I'll watch Survivor tonight and the UFC fights. I missed the buildup show last night, for the fights this weekend but it's nothing I already didn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Swick vs The Crow = sweet. Can't wait to see that.&lt;br /&gt;Jens Pulver is back. Not sure if the hypes worth it here...&lt;br /&gt;Hughes /Penn? ermmm not as much. Penn doesn't seem to have what he did before. Maybe I'm wrong.....but Hughes is just almost a given in any fight except for Georges St. Pierre. THAT'S the fight I'm looking forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm rambling....back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115887078102956966?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115887078102956966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115887078102956966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115887078102956966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115887078102956966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/why-me-ii.html' title='Why Me II'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115878967642693520</id><published>2006-09-20T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T15:47:57.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Me?</title><content type='html'>I've been spending alot of time reading recently. That urge came back just after stopping that dreadful anti-depressant medication that I quit....and I don't know if it's related, but I guess it doesn't really matter. I like to go out and sit by the pool and soak up some sun while reading but a few weeks ago I run into a bit of a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.....not a problem, just an issue I've always had. Good and bad, it could go either way, depending on how you look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Younger kids seemed to be curiously drawn to me. Why, I don't know. Sometimes I think it's just the fact that I give them the time....time that they don't always get with their parents. I know that sounds stupid but hear me out on this situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a group of kids that wander around the area that I am staying currently. They're between the ages of 9-13, and most of them are usually riding their skateboards. By first glance, they look and act like little punks. I know better. They act that way cuz they feel like they have too. I've never seen any sort of sign of their parents being around...period. They'd come out by the pool at times and screw around, and I'd normally just ignore them. A couple weeks ago, they decided to approach me. It was the typical situation for these kinda kids....acting tough, running their mouths, and I think they were kind of caught off guard when they noticed that their attitude didn't phase me. After pressing me that day, they left, only to return the next day with lots of questions. Typical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"you new around here, what do you do you, how old are you, etc etc"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now the attitude usually chills out once they see they don't have to do it around me. I've noticed that some could use some tips in their skateboarding moves. I don't mind helping them out with that, but here's where I get stuck. Once kids figure out that I'm someone they can talk to normally and relate to, they ALWAYS want to find me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for reading by the pool during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd go out on different times just so I could have some peace and quiet, but most days they are able to find me. There's new questions everyday, stories to tell me, and just basic bullshit. They're good kids, they just come from a shit families. That much is obvious. The oldest of the group doesn't seem to like me much, as I'm sure he's used to being the authority. He's the only one that won't bother being "real". Last week he took off and left them, and 5 minutes later I heard a fire alarm go off, and immediately thought it was him. I didn't say anything at first but once the group of kids left on their way home, they were confronted by a couple families that saw a "Skinny lil skaterboarder kid" do it. I had to run over and help them out cuz a few were scared shitless. I had to carefully explain that they were in fact by me, so it couldn't be them . I didn't want to rat out their buddy but I assumed that they would put the pieces together themselves to see what a douche their eldest of the group was. That's somthin' they must learn without my help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been going out at night to sit in the spa and read. I hate to make it sound like I'm avoiding them, but again, I need my time alone like anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was found a couple days ago, once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm careful that they aren't around when I come and go, so they don't see where I live. I know better. It's just starting to feel like I can't step out much without this eventually happening one day. Now I'm kind of stuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I always get stuck babysitting when I should be the one being "babysat"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;knawwhati'msayin'?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115878967642693520?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115878967642693520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115878967642693520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115878967642693520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115878967642693520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/why-me.html' title='Why Me?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115870544929954615</id><published>2006-09-19T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T12:39:52.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession</title><content type='html'>I think I sunk to a new level last night. Maybe it's a sign that it really is time to let myself  outta this cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No....not maybe, it's definately a sign. I can't help but laugh at myself now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was flipping through the cable channels with no real destination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sitcom, click,...commercials, click, click,.....public access, click, sports show...click, click....Hooters beauty pageant, click.....news,click,news, click...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it registered that I just passed the Hooters event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Backtrack, backtrack....where is it, where is it?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I actually let out a sigh when I came back to the channel. Any train of thought that I might of had previous to tuning in to this, was now gone. Here's where I'm a schmuck. I was on the phone with a buddy of mine, right in the middle of a conversation when I turned into Mushmouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uhhh.....duhh....what....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to get off the phone. I didn't tell him why though.  (If you're reading this, sorry dude...I know, I'm fucking stupid. Work with me here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there grumbling and growling under my breath, knowing what I'm doing to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen scene's in movies/sitcoms/commercials, where the mail gets dropped through the mail slot in the front door on one's home, right into the welcoming jaws of a dog? Said dog growls and rip's through the mail like a papershredder, right? I think that's what it would look like if someone inserted me into that convention. The girls wouldn't even know what hit them. Terrific right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually took some nyquil after that. No joke. I needed to pass out.&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I shared that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carry on.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115870544929954615?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115870544929954615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115870544929954615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115870544929954615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115870544929954615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/confession.html' title='Confession'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115861369548924826</id><published>2006-09-18T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T15:12:04.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disclosures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Aira%20Manna-shhh.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/Aira%20Manna-shhh.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's been brought to my attention, various times, that I don't seem to be fitting the bachelor mold on the site right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wtf is the bachelor mold?  Uh....who cares?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I care if I fit "it". Uh........I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I'd take a brief moment to clarify a few things, just so we are all straight here. Locals, Non-locals, girls, guys, cats....whatever.....gather around a second. I'll be short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;1 -&lt;/span&gt; I haven't exactly been going out and about all the much, but that's by choice. This might make for a boring read on a single guy, but I'm not about to make shit up just for content.  I feel great. I'm repeatedly told that I look great. (har har) Everything is falling together....somedays quicker than others. I know I will be opening my own cage here shortly....and I'm enjoying this time right now while I can. Somedays I think there is going to be a feeding frenzy ahead. I need a bit more energy first......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;2 -&lt;/span&gt; I'm very tight-lipped about sexual situations, and I'm not about to spill shit online. Friends that know me, rarely bother even asking such questions. So you heard I was out with so and so the other night and how'd it go? Typical response...."uh....I dunno".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weak right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I've never been one to talk to even my closest friends about sexual escapades. I like to keep all that tightly tucked away in my head.....not cuz they aren't worth telling, but cuz they're much more fun being all mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I created the site, I made the decision to disclose who I am instead of making up some surname. Dustin Terrazas. Yup, that's me. You can find me at 1152 Na ....(kidding ). In doing so, I must be careful as to what I share about my life that involves people that are unknowing that I write this. I'm VERY aware of that. Is it possible to read between the lines on here and figure somthin' out? Maybe....but I'm not about to install a "Dustin decoder ring" on the site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...anway, that's all I wanted to share. I'll throw this last picture up to spite Tania (who you ask?....don't worry about it k?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;be back later!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Cheeser.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/Cheeser.5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/blanks.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115861369548924826?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115861369548924826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115861369548924826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115861369548924826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115861369548924826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/disclosures.html' title='Disclosures'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115860228530192018</id><published>2006-09-18T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T13:31:29.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come Walk With Me</title><content type='html'>The weather has been much nicer in town as of late (mid 80's) so I figured it was a good weekend to take the walk that I've been thinking about. People that know me, know that I tend to wander, no matter what venue I'm in. It's not due to that fact that I may be bored with the location, company, etc......it's just the simple fact that I like to wander. I hate feeling stagnant. The more I walk about, the more I take in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simple as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long walk is good for many reasons. I'm able to relate much of the walk to life in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; There is a bike path about 50 yards from the front door apartment that I've walked a few times, but I'd never seen how far it actually goes. The time had come to find out. Solo. I left my cell phone at the house, grabbed the camera and was on my way around 1:30 on Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/13.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/13.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me only about 30-40 minutes to realize that I'm a dumbass for wearing my flip flops. Brilliant right? Oh well.....there was no turning back now. I knew where I wanted to go, and nothing was going to stop me. I was going to walk from Natomas, to downtown Sacramento. Old Sac to be exact. I knew that the path headed in that general direction, but I assumed it was more of a straight path than it was. I zig zagged all over the damn place and I was getting rather impatient until I came across a little dirt path that beckoned me. It seemed to be heading in the direction that I needed to go, so I figured "Fuck it", let's see if it's a short cut. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The path narrowed down the farther I walked.....in fact it dissapeared. I felt like a dumbass for trying the easy way out, but I walked this far, so I might as well keep going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/11.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/11.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After walking in circles a few times, I noticed some old steps in distance. BITCHIN. It looks as though my effort was worth it. I'm lucky to find these steps as they are overgrown with many types of shrubbery, like the rest of the "path". It's obvious that this route hadn't been taken in years. I estimated that this shortcut shaved a good half hour off my trip and I'm quite proud when I climb up the stairs to find the path that I was looking for.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; A little effort can go a long way. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I emerge somewhere in the Discovery Park area. The park is filled with family outtings and general get-togethers. I'm a little over an hour into the trip and everything is going great. No spiders, no snakes on the plane...nothing. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I cut across the park in the direction heading downtown when I finally came up to another fork in the river. I noticed another weak dirt path in the distance that was headed in the wrong direction, but for some reason, it seemed to call my name out. I was in no hurry so I decided to check it out. I didn't need to travel very far to find this little gem of a spot. It's not noticable from the freeway or roads around the area so I was fairly pumped when I found this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A few friends and I had built a nice rope swing years ago that has probably fallen apart by now. We're always looking for a bigger and better spot. I think this is it. It's not exactly a big fall but the rotation on this swing goes out pretty far, and it looks as though we can flip it with some ease. I pulled the rope up to see how far up we could go, and it reaches up all the way to the beginning of the tree roots. The ground drops off much more than it shows in these pictures and the water is clear of any fallen tree's. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's perfect.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We need to get out there before it cools off too much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/9.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/9.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/10.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/10.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It pays to wander now doesn't it? This is exactly why I do it.....cuz you never know what you'll find. Wandering off the path pays again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Back on track now. I make it through the park (which is huge) and find the bike path that leads to downtown Sac. This seems to go on forever without much scenery, but it's the only way to go. It's the most boring part of the walk by far as the only scenery seems to be a few random bums talking to themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;An hour or so later, I came across this old relic. I couldn't tell what it used to be used for so I wanted to walk across the bridge, but the damn thing was locked up. Shame. I bet it had a nice view of the river. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The path then lead to the new water treatment pump that many see from the freeway. Sac County did a pretty good job of making it a curious little destination. There are plaque's with information scattered all along the bridge to the pumps. I find that the place I was just at (picture above) was the old water pump that was built in the mid 1800's. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is the view from in the middle of the river. You can see where my path is leading me.....all the way to those buildings. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Downtown Sac.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Quite a nice little walk, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The closer I get to Sac, the more people I come across. I went from running with the squirrels and wild cats, to dodging the families out on a weekend bike trip. At this point in the trip, I think I felt kind of lonely. I went it alone on purpose, but seeing all the families kind of put a knot in my stomach. I smiled and waved like the little douche bag that I am and carried on.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon I came across the old railroad, which resembles a bit of a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; graveyard now. It's kind of cool to look at all the old trains. It would be ever nicer, had there not been so many fuckin' bums around them. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hate bums.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Let me say that again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I hate bums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short distance later, and I'm in Old Sac. Old Sac borders downtown Sacramento, yet it is rarely frequented by locals. On days like today, it's slammed with many a tourist. I felt out of place (even in my own town) so I sat on a bench for awhile and watched the boats go by. At one point I heard my name and turned around to see two people I knew. We talked briefly and they asked who I was with and what I was doing. I explained that I was just out on a walk by myself, which was followed by them asking why?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"why not?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nice comeback right? Everyone else is busy watching football so I figured I'd have a little *me* time. Simple enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/4.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After spending a fair amount of time by the docks, I figured it was time to hit the road again....as I was going to be chasing the sun back home. My feet and hip were already beyond sore and I cursed myself for walking this far. I knew the trip back was going to seem like eternity. Thank god for my little short cut right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/2.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; walking....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;walking.......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;walking......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Finally I come across my little shortcut, only to find a little sign posted up on the ridge, that I hadn't seen the first time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fuck.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sometimes taking the easy path, isn't the smartest thing to do. There's a reason why some roads are less traveled than others.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/1.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Suddenly I felt rather itchy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;........&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115860228530192018?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115860228530192018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115860228530192018' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115860228530192018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115860228530192018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/come-walk-with-me.html' title='Come Walk With Me'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115859796932633020</id><published>2006-09-18T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T09:46:10.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mondays</title><content type='html'>I've had minimal weekend time on the computer as of late, which has it's ups and downs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main down?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming in monday and putting up alllll my thoughts from the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;doh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gimme a few.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115859796932633020?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115859796932633020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115859796932633020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115859796932633020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115859796932633020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/mondays_18.html' title='Mondays'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115827494798129723</id><published>2006-09-14T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T16:15:25.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day Four</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/grizzly%20growl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/grizzly%20growl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuckinhellshitmotherbitchassfuckshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No really, I'm just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115827494798129723?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115827494798129723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115827494798129723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115827494798129723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115827494798129723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/day-four.html' title='Day Four'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115818402914996262</id><published>2006-09-13T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T14:47:14.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Step Two</title><content type='html'>I'm off the Effexor, so it was time to move on to step two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one could be tougher than the first. Call me the cold turkey master right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Step Two&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Stop Smoking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/cutcut.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/cutcut.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I actually started this one on Sunday. I'm on day 3 now.....and I can't say there is anything pleasant about it. I haven't exactly been smoking as long as most ( maybe 2 years now? ) but it doesn't make stopping any easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped a few times, only to get right back where I started. I blamed stress. I blamed weakness. I can no longer play the blame game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As most know, it's almost a given to have a smoke while you are drinking, so I'm trying to shy away from that right now. A part of me doesn't want to use that as an excuse, so maybe I should be hitting the bottle to REALLY test myself. Hmmm.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've done a fairly good job at not biting anyone's head off in the last few days. Most probably haven't even noticed it. I figured it was best to keep it to myself for the first few days so that I wasn't constantly reminded about it. Have I had the cravings? You better fucking believe it. Just writing about it, makes me want one now. I've ripped a few stress balls up around my desk while nobody is looking......and have been cussing under my breath non-stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really research the stages that'd I'd go through, so I'm not really sure how long this is going to take. I'm sure it varies from person to person so I figured I'd once again just suck it up and take matters in my own hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This cold turkey stage that I'm going through is rough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;god damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asdf;ljk;hldsfh;ldfkshgj;dsflkg&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115818402914996262?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115818402914996262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115818402914996262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115818402914996262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115818402914996262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/step-two.html' title='Step Two'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115817323139151565</id><published>2006-09-13T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T12:36:14.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Debra Lafave</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/317229-9912-ga.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/317229-9912-ga.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this story ever get old?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it's far more appealing for guys......I mean what guy DIDN'T have&lt;br /&gt;a crush on one of their teachers in school? Now to be fair, there are other stories of teachers hooking up with their students, but not all are as attractive as miss debbie here. Now given, she's not exactly drop dead gorgeous, but there is somthin' oddly hot about her. A co-worker was reading the court transcripts outloud this morning, while I was working, and I couldn't help but feel like I needed a smoke after listening to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Wow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twice in the backseat of her car, while the kids cousin drove it around?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in her classroom after school?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....then at the kid's parents house?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck me....that's just out of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/1202lafave-b.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/1202lafave-b.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; What get's me is that the kid acts as though he's mentally screwed up now. Uhh.....dude. Shut the eff up. Seriously. I don't want to hear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now given, there are some sad points. Her husband has to deal with the fact that his wife hooked up with a 14 yr old, yes, but I try not to think about that cuz it kind of kills the fantasy. Call me selfish if you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did anyone see her interview with Matt Lauer (idiot) ? Did anyone find him to be rather creepy ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I need to calm down now. Too much coffee. Too much reading on this story......and for some reason it's really hot in the office today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....be back later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115817323139151565?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115817323139151565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115817323139151565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115817323139151565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115817323139151565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/debra-lafave.html' title='Debra Lafave'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115801756621704843</id><published>2006-09-11T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T13:02:05.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Confessions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Cat%20Suprised.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/Cat%20Suprised.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both Timely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You decide if one makes me any more or less of a man/boy/child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;TWO CONFESSIONS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'm not a football fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never have been. I grew up skateboarding, which progressed to snowboarding/wakeboarding and such. I played baseball for years, and though I think I was fairly good, my heart was never in it. I preferred excelling in individual sports rather than compete with teams. I liked the freedom to express your own personal style, rather than be told how to succeed correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can deal with basketball, but not football. I hate to admit it, and I know I'm going to get shit from some friends (they already know anyway), but it bores me. I'll occasionally sit down and watch a handful of minutes, but that's it. It just doesn't hold my attention like most. I think I was one of only a handful of guys in Sacramento that DIDN'T watch all the games yesterday. It's not that I have anything against it, or don't know anything about the sport, cuz I know plenty.....it's just not my gig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;NEXT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I'll say sorry to my friends that read this next one. I'll dry hump your legs if it'll make you feel any better.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) The sex drive has grown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you like dem applez?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that is was non-existent before, but it seems that it was slightly dulled like the rest of my personality, from the years of anti-depressants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pills gone.&lt;br /&gt;Drive back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I thought it was the recent full moon, but alas I was wrong. It's since faded, and I'm still growling under my breath at times. Bad huh? I've haven't exactly been out and about recently. I'm not sure if letting me outta cage right now is too smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRRRRrrrrrr.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must.....think.....baseball.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've found the usb connection for my digital camera so I'm back in business. That's good news right? I was readind my digital video cam last night, and I think I've figure out how to upload shit from that as well. I've got to keep myself busy during these full moons , right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;GRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.....................&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115801756621704843?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115801756621704843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115801756621704843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115801756621704843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115801756621704843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/two-confessions.html' title='Two Confessions'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115800373722461650</id><published>2006-09-11T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T14:56:52.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm no longer on the Internet</title><content type='html'>That didn't last too long, did it? I hate to say it, but I told you so. I couldn't help but notice that I know two of the people on there, so I'm holding both girls responsible for pushing me off the list. I haven't been online since thursday, so I'm not exactly sure what happened between now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....moving on....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure everyone is writing about 9/11 today so I'll keep mine very brief. For years, the najority of the tv stations have aired countless "specials" about the events that unfolded before and after that day. I'd have to say the heaviest of the group, would be the documentary by the two french guys (hosted by De Niro).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that's always bothered me, is the decision by major networks to not air certain footage of that day. I can't help but relate it to my previous situation with popping pills for depressed feelings. It's rare for anyone to air the actual scene's involving the planes hitting the building.....it's usually just a cropped version showing the fire balls. While these scene's will still give everyone the chills, I don't understand the need to censor it. It's another case of dulled feelings. Yes, it's intense. Yes, it's emotional. History is just that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....and I think the internet has started a whole new breed of conspiracy theorists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need somthin' a bit lighter today huh? Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Ah yes, this is easy!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up the other morning and did the usual routine of rolling over without squishing Lulu, to give her a little morning scratch. She usually lies there while I get up and fumble around the room, but not this morning. She jumped down at the same time that I stepped down, only to land right beneath where I was about to stand. I blame her move, and my upcoming ones, on morning groginess (sp?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of using my cat-like reflexes to dodge her, my split second reaction was to just fall towards the opposite wall, instead of setting my foot down on-top of her. Brilliant right? Well this plan would have worked, had the vaccuum not been sitting where I needed to fall. I caught the top handle with one hand, hoping that it would stabalize me, only to have the thing roll out from underneath me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was by no means a graceful fall, but I couldn't help but giggle the whole time it was happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vaccuum was located right in front of the closet, which was of course opened. Normally (like it happens alot) I would grab the other closet door, but my friend was asleep in the other room. Most of the events had been semi quiet so far, and this would just put it over the top. I was quickly swallowed up my piles of shoes/clothes/vaccuum inside the closet. Nothing quiet about this at all. He didn't say anything that day, which amazes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I actually heard Lulu giggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This beats any cup of joe first thing in the morning. Trust me.  I hate to say it, but I think I was actually downgraded from Ninja to Karate Kid that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Be back in a sec to finish up....need to finish somthin at work first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115800373722461650?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115800373722461650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115800373722461650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115800373722461650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115800373722461650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-no-longer-on-internet.html' title='I&apos;m no longer on the Internet'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115766091821994502</id><published>2006-09-07T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T11:59:40.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm on the Internet</title><content type='html'>I had noticed this on one of my favorite bloggers website months ago and thought it was kind of a funny social experiment. I had completely forgotten that I had put my link on there during the visit, and was suprised to just get an email telling me I'm on the front of the site right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....soooo I visited and sure enough, there's my sorry ass mixed in with a few girls (work safe) cleavage and butt shots. What's the chances of me lasting longer than a day with that kind of competetion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not good huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out yourself, and feel free to click on my picture so that I feel good about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" href="http://www.25peeps.com/r/1682"&gt;25peeps.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The simple things, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dank yew!!.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115766091821994502?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115766091821994502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115766091821994502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115766091821994502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115766091821994502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-on-internet.html' title='I&apos;m on the Internet'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115756311968121991</id><published>2006-09-06T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T12:14:13.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;Good Morning ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*yawn*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step One Complete. I think I'm completed with all the withdrawal stages of getting off the Effexor. The whole process was just an emotional roller coaster, none of which I was used to. I knew that I was a bit numb over the last few years, but I didn't know to what extent. It's odd how you can forget how your personality was before taking such bullshit. Some things came back quickly, while other things came to realization after hours of daydreaming. I noticed that some people on here had brought up the possiblilty of things coming back that I didn't want......and there is some truth to that. The overall outcome has far more benefits than disadvantages, but hopefully that changes with time. The downfall (not sure if that's the right word) is the surge of bad memories that I had tucked away tightly in some spot in my brain. That's just life though, and I regret popping a pill to shun those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sleep patterns have been a bit off as of late too. I've been up until 4:00 - 5:00 am for the last week. I try going to bed early but it's just not happening. I'm spending countless hours rolling around in bed (driving LuLu insane) and endlessly searching for somthin' decent on tv. I'm getting up at 7:00 each morning so this is quickly taking a toll on me. I think I'd be a hypocrite if I started taking Ambien to assist in this though. Whatcha think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;...Good Afternoon...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three day weekends sure go by fast, whether you're busy or not. One of my favorite bank A/E's came by the office on friday and had a last minute decision to take me and miss Kristen out for Sushi and drinks at at 2 in the afternoon. This lead to sampling every damn Sake bottle they had and multiple beers. THAT lead to wanting to go to another bar nearby. More beer. Shots of Patron and whiskey....and then .....uh.....hmm.....oh ya, me sleeping at 6:30 pm. I woke my happy ass up around 9:30 with my second wind and ending up hanging out with a friend I hadn't seen in some months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home and relaxed. Not much to tell there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was the Haasienda (yes I know that's spelled differently) at Big H's and wifey's house. My digital camera is back from the boxed up abyss but I haven't found the cord that uploads it to the computer. Typical. Hopefully I find it today so I can put a few things on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't succeed in fully draining the keg, but I DID succeed in leaving with a few new bruises. I went from jumping from the rock waterfall w/ the little kids, to attempting to jump on to Jorgy's head. What is it about pools, that turns us guys into 5 years olds? Maybe it's just me. I suppose I can blame alocohol. Wait, no.....I didn't wait 30 minutes after eating to get back in. That must be it. I actually dreamed about the bbq the following night, cuz that shit was awesome. Good times my friend....I'm lookin' forward to hanging out again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;....and if I don't see you later, Good Night!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave Matthews is in town tonight but instead of going to the concert, I will be watching the kids for those that are. How nice, right? The Monarchs ( I know....WBNA sucks) Championship game is tonight as well, and I was invited to that, but it's my night off. I think I'll be the only single guy not going out to the concert tonight. Odd eh? Trust me, I'll be just fine. I'm 28 going on 7 so kids and I are like pea's in a pod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's now time for step two. I must finish up a few things at work here first, but I'll be back later to get into it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115756311968121991?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115756311968121991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115756311968121991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115756311968121991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115756311968121991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/still-alive.html' title='Still Alive'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115750492419273687</id><published>2006-09-05T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T18:08:44.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>halsocan</title><content type='html'>I finally got off my lazy butt and added haloscan to this little shindig.  Ignore the second comments feature, I kept that for history's sake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115750492419273687?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115750492419273687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115750492419273687' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115750492419273687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115750492419273687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/halsocan.html' title='halsocan'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115731671366360603</id><published>2006-09-03T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T13:52:57.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guest Post: Dustin Breeding Shirtless</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i152/grinssmi/dustin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 756px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i152/grinssmi/dustin.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I wasn't going to mention this the first month it appeared in my stats. Not even the 3rd or 5th time. But Dustin, now I must know. Is there another blog of yours you'd like to tell us about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted by Grins&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115731671366360603?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115731671366360603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115731671366360603' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115731671366360603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115731671366360603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/09/guest-post-dustin-breeding-shirtless.html' title='Guest Post: Dustin Breeding Shirtless'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115704769009654230</id><published>2006-08-31T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T12:48:08.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Msg To You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/56686629mc002_jackson.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/56686629mc002_jackson.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The internet is a wonderful thing. I've opted to open up a bit more with my life, and have allowed complete strangers to share the up's and down's with me.  Regulating who can read, would just be silly. I've bit my tongue for some time on one person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had written a lil somthin' somthin' yesterday that was spur of the moment, and not exactly nice. Better judgement came over me, and I erased it. I don't want to be childish. I do however have a request now, after some thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would you have any interest in coming to check this out routinely? I came to the following conclusions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;1)&lt;/span&gt; You are concerned I'm going to write things about you on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I can write what I want on the site, I know better than to air dirty laundrey in such a venue. This will not improve my situation what-so-ever. While it might make for good reading, it's hardly worth the time. My time is better spent on things worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;2)&lt;/span&gt; You care about what's going on in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cue laugh track* HAHAHAhahahahasjhsdfkljghs;dfljkgl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.....I had add some humor here.  We both know you don't care so let's move on to #3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;3) &lt;/span&gt;You're bored at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok fair.....but let's be more productive with your free time. Try somthin' enlightening like uh....myspace! Wheeee!  Try reading the news? Go play on the freeway. Hell, I don't know. Just find some sort of new entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing here for you. I see no reason to talk with you, and its creepy that you have a sick need to peer into my virtual window and see what I'm doing. I can't (And wouldn't) block you but I can ask that you just let me be. Simple as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry everyone had to read that, but I needed to get that off my back. It beat's popping pills like I did in the past. The sad truth of why I started taking them is coming back to me now. I'm an idiot, but I learn, sometimes the hard way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;*edit*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shannon, yes....my EX. You get the cookie for the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115704769009654230?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115704769009654230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115704769009654230' title='43 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115704769009654230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115704769009654230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/msg-to-you.html' title='Msg To You'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>43</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115697389744327102</id><published>2006-08-30T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T14:38:17.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Question</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I've read a few comments regarding the movie "Garden State" now and I've yet to see it.&lt;br /&gt;Is this somthin' I should be checking out?  Help me out here.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115697389744327102?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115697389744327102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115697389744327102' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115697389744327102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115697389744327102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/question.html' title='Question'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115688236928062280</id><published>2006-08-29T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T14:14:20.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show and Tell</title><content type='html'>So far, so good. The only thing I regret right now, is that I didn't do this sooner. The process is almost surreal. It's almost difficult to explain. I feel as though I come across as being cheesey, or even as if I'm bragging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few notes (call me crazy if you want)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had cravings for two specific things in the last 2 days. Brace yourself, and no I'm not pregnant, so shuh. Pickles + Ice Cream. Nutty huh? For some reason, those two things have a intense flavor about them. I had both for breakfast this morning, and I might even do the same for lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel my creative urge coming back to me....and it's an odd feeling. It's almost as though I've forgotten what I can do. No....it's that I didn't care. I didn't get any satisfaction out of doing any of it. Yes, I can draw, and probably alot better than you think. I haven't even attempted to do anything since 99. December of 99 in fact. I have tons of equipment, all of which has been stagnant since that date. How'd I let that go to waste? Where do I start now? Idea's are coming in like never before. It's a complete mindfuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have occasional spells where I feel like my body is heating up. I chalk it up as normal withdrawal process. I'm sitting in my office right now and it's 77 degree's but I get brief cold sweats out of no where. I'll be happy when this stops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't share most of the information to just anyone (odd i do it on the computer eh?) but girls have a sixth sense on a boy in need of mending. Offers to go out from strangers are common. I'm not taking any offers as it's not fair to bring someone into this process. They have no idea what they'd be getting into right now. This is *me* time. I just received a msg (not sure how she got my info) from the photographer that came into our office the other day, seeing if I'd like to hang out. Very sweet.....but no. I can't help but feel like a dick, turning simple things like that down. I just don't feel the urge to right now though....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most basic way to sum all of this up, is the real Dustin is coming back. It's amazing what those pills did to me. Maybe I was on the wrong prescription....no matter, it's in the past now. I knew in my heart, that they had changed me, but I didn't know to this level. So many things had been forgotten or set aside in my mind and the process of getting them all back is just insane. I feel like a child on Christmas morning. Real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;be back later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115688236928062280?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115688236928062280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115688236928062280' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115688236928062280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115688236928062280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/show-and-tell.html' title='Show and Tell'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115687011835349620</id><published>2006-08-29T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T12:24:24.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Must Share</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/whoa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/whoa.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............whoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning and instantly braced myself for the usual pulsating feeling in my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....and it didn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat still for a moment, still waiting. Then I shoke my head as if I were a dog. That usually cues it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;At all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized I did somthin' that I hadn't done in a LONG time, upon getting up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...........whoa. First thing in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheesey huh? I don't care. Laugh it up.....this was actually a huge deal to me. So simple. So stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's happening. You have no idea how happy that makes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I must get to work. I have more to share in a bit ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115687011835349620?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115687011835349620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115687011835349620' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115687011835349620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115687011835349620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-must-share.html' title='I Must Share'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115680986462352032</id><published>2006-08-28T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T11:05:53.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stubborn Bastard</title><content type='html'>That is apparent now right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a bit odd coming back and reading all this. I hope this isn't looked at as some sick way of getting attention, cuz that is far from the fact. I've typically kept this sort of information to myself and I felt I needed to be a bit more honest about the situation. I appreciate all the comments/emails/calls that I have received, but I assure you, I'll be ok. I'm a stubborn bastard, yes, and once I made up my mind that I was going to do this, there is no turning back.  I knew from the get go what I was getting myself into, and while it's been nothing but a pain, I was mentally prepared. I need to do this....and do it by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's bothering to read how many people out there have been on this stuff. How have we made it to this point that we must feel the need to take such detourants? Everyone seems to be coming to the same conclusion as we seem to get better once we are off it. This is why I don't trust most doctors, as they tend to just have us pop a pill and move on in life. I almost feel as though I've weakened my body by going through this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, my brain is still a bit battered. The "shivers" as ongoing and sleep is few and far between. I can rest assured knowing that the further I push, the better the following days are going to become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for right now.....I must shut down the head for a few now. I still want to pick apart the fights but....ya.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;carry on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115680986462352032?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115680986462352032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115680986462352032' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115680986462352032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115680986462352032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/stubborn-bastard.html' title='Stubborn Bastard'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115663915891845783</id><published>2006-08-26T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T17:40:24.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grand Ole Time</title><content type='html'>Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday went rather smoothly, though I could feel the beginnings of the crash. A part of me was excited to start the process, but as some of the affects came on, I couldn't help but be a little nervous as well. I was alone for most of the early evening and I found it best to not sit and pick apart what was going on. Keeping my mind off of seems key already, but I feel like I'm limited in what I can do, as I don't really feel like being around a large public area right now. I spent the majority of the evening watching movies and laying around with two friends after their "ladies night out".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Battered.....and shakey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try not to make such sudden movements as my brain feels like it starts to swell. Every few minutes or so, I feel a vibration within my skull that would drive any person batty. It's almost as though I've opened up the emotional dam that's been up for years past, and I'm flooding the plains now. I can't say it's one of the funnest experiences in my life, but I choose to take it so I must ride this bitch out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this might sounds crazy but I almost feel as though my taste buds are adapting as well. It's almost as though the sense is hightenend (or back to normal in this case)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to sit down and pick apart the fights for tonight but I just can't muster up the mental strength right now (you can't imagine how freakin' fustrating that is). I'm going to jump in the shower now and head out to a friends house. Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115663915891845783?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115663915891845783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115663915891845783' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115663915891845783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115663915891845783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/grand-ole-time.html' title='Grand Ole Time'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115653591337909387</id><published>2006-08-25T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T14:12:30.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going for it.</title><content type='html'>This might not be the smartest thing that I've ever done, but it's somthin' I want to do myself. Call it a social experiment, and I'm the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on anti-depressents (Effexor) for some years now and have never been quite happy about it. In the beginning it was the doctors idea to start me on them cuz there are all sorts of disorders that run in parts of my family and the thought was that this would help detour anything that came my way. Yes, I have my down moments, but I think that's normal. I hate feeling like I must be dependent on these damn things. If I go anywhere and forget to take them with me, I stress out. It becomes a ridiculous ordeal......and I'm sick of it. The longest I've gone is about a day and a half and even then, it screws with your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've longed beleived that these were both a blessing and a curse to me, and lately it's become the later of the two. I'm tired of feeling numb to everything. Sure I don't get "uber" down , but I also don't get the energy and motivation that I had before I took them. It seems alot of bad habits have been formed since the injestion of this bullshit. I hate thinking that I'm using it as an excuse but I can't help but think I'm right. I want to be back to my normal self, and I don't care if that involves the normal ups and downs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The downside? Well....the doctor always tells me that we will have to ween me off them a few days at a time as they are a bit strong. I'm tired of getting assistance though. I need to do this for myself. I've stopped as of today. Cold Turkey. I know what you are thinking, but I'm going for it anyway. I'm sick of this. There are a handful of things that I want to take care of in the next few months but I can only focus on one step at a time right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Step One&lt;/span&gt; - Get off Effexor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have alot to gain by doing this. I suppose I might as well have some fun with it and keep track of the next couple of days on here. I'm dog sitting the mastiff's again this weekend so I'll probably be around the computer alot. If anything, it could make for good reading material for you guys. Who knows...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115653591337909387?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115653591337909387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115653591337909387' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115653591337909387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115653591337909387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-going-for-it.html' title='I&apos;m going for it.'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115652792136971028</id><published>2006-08-25T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T22:53:41.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Skool</title><content type='html'>I suppose it's time to share somthin' a bit more light hearted eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a old video that I had put together probably somewhere around 1999-2000  of a couple of my closest friends and myself snowboarding. We lived in South Lake Tahoe for a few years and would occasionally bring out the camera and capture a few things. I've acquired TONS of footage of the years that I've put together in other video's, and this one was my first attempt. It's as basic as they come but it's still fun to look back at the old stuff growing up.  I had thought this was lost for many years but I just happened to find it in my recent move. It's small enough to upload on youtube.com so enjoy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;*speakers help....obviously there is sound*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the middle part might not make sense to alot of you so I'll try to lay out the scenario a bit. We play alot of pranks on eachother, and this one involved a friend that was in town staying the night at our house. I set the camera in the room that he was sleeping and recorded while 4 of us ran in the sliding glass door dressed in full black w/ nylons over our face. Jeff grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over his face (while telling him to shut the f up) while the rest of us pretended to rob the room. After a few seconds we ran back out of the house to see what he would do. I know this sounds a bit cruel, but that you have to get a bit drastic to get the best reactions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hsaJ66D2LI8"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hsaJ66D2LI8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115652792136971028?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115652792136971028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115652792136971028' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115652792136971028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115652792136971028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/old-skool.html' title='Old Skool'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115643777518361396</id><published>2006-08-24T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T14:25:09.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/1.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/1.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last few days, I've come the realization that I'm not as good with stress as I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just good at acting like I'm fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years and years of buildup might have finally caught up to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently today was picture day at work (thanks for telling me guys) so this was taken this morning in my sickly state. I thought I'd share....and yes, I know I need a haircut. Shush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a little somthin' that I was going to share with everyone today, but I left the disk at home. I've been out of commission at home for the last couple of days.  I'll upload it to the site tomorrow morning instead. It's nothing big really....just a little video montage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115643777518361396?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115643777518361396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115643777518361396' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115643777518361396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115643777518361396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/sick-days.html' title='Sick Days'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115577519396952348</id><published>2006-08-16T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T15:39:52.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cliff Notes - My Life</title><content type='html'>I've been informed that my divorce should be final sometime in the beginning of next month. I don't know the exact date, as my x has told me that she doesn't know. How that is possible, I don't know. You'd think after turning so cold to me, that she would have the countdown clock on her desk at work......ya know? Our rare conversations are really limited and extremely fustrating. I honestly don't know why I bother half the time. On the flip side, it makes me feel alot more free knowing I don't have to deal with that mentality anymore. I can't begin to tell you how tired I am of arguing. It's so nice not having to deal with that anymore, and anytime I'm in a situation that even remotely resembles an arguement, I'm quick to walk away. I'm not going to go through that again. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, I've noticed my sleep patterns changing too, aside from the usual sleep walking and occasional verbal outbreaks. I think I'm developing some sort of "restless leg syndrome" in my sleep. Most nights that I lay down, I feel like I'm tired, but my feet/ankles/leg need to be constantly moved around. It was brought to my attention that I actually do it in my sleep as well, which must be annoying as all hell. Does anyone else have this problem? I'd like a little insight. I don't know how much longer my cats can take it. The other problem that seems to be getting worse, is acting out my dreams. Lulu sleeps right up against my face at night, and she's fallen victim to a few slaps and punches from dreams that I'm having. The sad thing is, she's almost used to it, and will typically just sit up and stare at me for a few minutes with a "thanks dumbass" squint on her face. Then it's back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still haven't gone out on a real date yet. It's not that I haven't met anyone that I wouldn't like to take out, it just hasn't happened. I think my swager has changed a bit since the beginning of year as lately I'm getting approached by alot more women. Some days I wonder if I just scream "single" to people out and about now. I know this sounds stupid, but there are days that it's kind of overkill.  I almost feel guilty having a handful of options, and not really capitalizing on them. Then I feel guilty for even having multiple options in the first place. Being single is more stressful than I remember. How stupid is that....I mean seriously?....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;A few Notes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to "E" for rescuing me the other night. I appreciate it. I owe ya girl! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Karr (jonbenet suspect) needs to be locked up whether he did it or not.  I hate to say it, but my first impression was that he's just a sicko looking for attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I still haven't seen my dog. I've almost given up. I miss her to death but I can't stand the shit that I must listen to just to see her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work is ok, as work goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I hear the Paris Hilton song one more time, I'm going to commit suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight is a good tv night. I'm almost sad to admit that I've been waiting for this night all week. The live fights are on the Spike channel for free between 8-10 o clock and then the new ultimate fighter reality series is on right afterwards from 10-11pm. Tune in and cheer for my boys. You might enjoy it more than you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've met WAY more blondes as of late, than brunette's. Let's balance that up a bit more eh? I love me a beautiful brunette. MMmmmmmm......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115577519396952348?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115577519396952348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115577519396952348' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115577519396952348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115577519396952348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/cliff-notes-my-life.html' title='Cliff Notes - My Life'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115577118944862670</id><published>2006-08-16T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T16:38:50.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night</title><content type='html'>Here's the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting on the couch watching the reports on the apparent cease-fire between Hezbollah and Isreal (grumbling all the while) and they are showing some demonstrations in the streets of Beirut about the so called victory of the mujahid. The camera panned around to show a group of kids blindly following the chants of the crowd, when all of a sudden, the door opens up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you all know that I'm staying with a friend in between my move right now. This isn't my place, but I must treat it with the same respect. So when somthin' odd happens, I can't help but get protective. The first thing I thought was maybe he was just home from work early....nope...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 kids of middle eastern descent walk through the door, each about 6-7 years old, which was about the same as the kids on tv. They are about 10 feet in front of me and I couldn't fathom what I'm watching. First I think it's friends playing a trick on me. The leader of the group stares at the tv for a second and looks around the room, without a ounce of fear in his eyes. They are all holding branches that they've pulled from a tree outside and just having a grand time just giving me a little suprise.  I'm thinking "wtf is this lord of the flies shit going on here?" Then it occurs to me that maybe they are just lost, but they don't seem to be phased by the confused douche bag sitting on the couch in front of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They decide their mission is done, and they run outside, leaving the door open. Now I'm pissed cuz I don't want my cat to get out. I jumped up and walked outside to see what was going on and suprise suprise, their mom is walking on the sidewalk out front. I asked if those were her kids, and she said a couple of them. Lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"did you see them just walk into the aparment?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It occurs to me that maybe she doesn't speak english. Wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes...I did" which is followed by a smile. No apology. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she continues to walk away smiling. NOW I'm pissed. There's nothing I can do though. I HATE seeing parents like this. It just gets me fuming mad. Apparently it's normal for this dumbass mother's kids to go playing in random peoples houses. I sat outside for a few minutes, cursing the future of these kids. Is it just me, or is society going to hell cuz of parents like this? Am I reading into this too much? Help me out here.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115577118944862670?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115577118944862670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115577118944862670' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115577118944862670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115577118944862670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/last-night.html' title='Last Night'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115576287414321335</id><published>2006-08-16T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T14:14:34.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Proof I'm losin' it</title><content type='html'>I just had to share this. I have a few things to post but this just needs to be shared first. It's another thing that started a few years ago.....out of no where. Does anyone have an idea's as to why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: what the fuck was up last night?&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: what do you mean?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: do you remember walking into my room?&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: lol&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: no?&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: you serious?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: my god you were freaking me out&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: hahahah serious?&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: sleep walking?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: ya&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: when was this&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: i got up to get some snacks at 2:30&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: ya&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: ?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: i went back into my room closed my door&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: ya?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: and then i heard your door open&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: hahahaha im getting weak&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: then you came barging into my room&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: wtf&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: ?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: you said "dude your still awake, i want to go to bed"&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: like you wanted to go into my bed&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: hahahahashdfjklgasdjkfsdgfa&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: i was like dude are you sleep walking, you said no im not&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: at 2:30 am?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: ya&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: fucking a&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: ive done that a few times...****** told me about that&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: but i called you out on sleepwalking and you said no im not&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: then went back to your room&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: sorry about that&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: i do that sometimes&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: started a couple yrs ago&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: i was dressed at least right?&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: yes&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: whew&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: you hand panties on your head and a sock over your dick&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: that would have been the topper eh &lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: thats awesome&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: i'm loosin' my mind&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: i cant believe you dont remember&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: ive done that a few times honestly&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: sometimes i was naked so i was a bit worried&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: lol&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: ok you need to move out&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: HAHAHAHAHAHA&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: good thing i was awake, because it appeared that you wanted to jump in my bed&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: man im sorry...&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: i need to lock myself in the room&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: i was hoping i wasnt going to do that eventually&lt;br /&gt;grumby@mac.com: i thought it was pretty funny&lt;br /&gt;dustttt916: its bad enough im talking in my sleep so much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........the end?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115576287414321335?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115576287414321335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115576287414321335' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115576287414321335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115576287414321335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/proof-im-losin-it.html' title='Proof I&apos;m losin&apos; it'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115531504809396653</id><published>2006-08-11T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T10:18:16.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Sharing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/bite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/bite.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I thought this was funny....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dozer is on of the dog's that I recently wrote about when I was dog sitting. This is him teaching his master (Brian) who is boss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115531504809396653?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115531504809396653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115531504809396653' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115531504809396653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115531504809396653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/just-sharing.html' title='Just Sharing'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115523365126739047</id><published>2006-08-10T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T11:53:11.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Everyone</title><content type='html'>Is it just me, or is there an abundance of "Snakes on a Plane" ad's today? You'd think after last night's news, most people wouldn't mind the snakes. Hell, we even have Samuel Jackson to take care of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"We've got mutha-fuckin' SnaKes!!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if the ACLU will step in after this and represent flying snakes around the world  that have been racially profiled after this flick? It's only fair that we screen all the gophers, deer and hippo's too right? Will the hippo's be offended when the airline requires them to pay for two seats?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;knowwhatI'msaying? *nod your head in fustration with me*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on....these last fews days have been quite interesting on the blog eh? I can't say that any of it really got me worked up though. The passionate anonymous comments are almost comical, on my site, as well as others. I mean think about it here. All you know about me is what I disclose on the blog here. One may create their image based on this, sure, but take a second to consider this. You probably don't know shit, and for that reason I can't get mad at you. Throwing out random insults to me online, is only going to make YOU look like an ass, not me.  If you are under the impression that I am a terrible person, then why even bother visiting? I choose to be dry at times online simply cuz it's fun and I like to make people giggle. Maybe some of you should try it some time. If we are all sitting our ass's down here, instead of working out, then maybe the calorie burnage would do us some good. Whatcha think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D- No I still haven't cut my hair. Thank you for asking..brat....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Softball slut - I'll visit if you only if you promise to write bad things about me on the blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and yes, I put that song up. We are all winners here, right? Enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm going to get to work, but I shall be back later. I still have a few things on my mind...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115523365126739047?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115523365126739047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115523365126739047' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115523365126739047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115523365126739047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-love-everyone.html' title='I love Everyone'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115498079455368126</id><published>2006-08-07T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T10:28:58.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Q &amp; A Session</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/image_cmk_in_microphone.2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/image_cmk_in_microphone.0.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I haven't done this is awhile now....so let's give it another rip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had fun doing this the first two times. It was early in the blog and it helped to have people ask me things , as opposed to coming out with the information. I don't mind sharing anything about my life, but I rarely bring up things myself. I figure, nobody is really interested unless they ask themselves. I think some of us have grown close *snicker*, so dwelving into serious questions shouldn't be a problem. There is also some notable new faces.....so this might be interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;You know the routine. Ask anything you want in the comment section and I'll cut and paste a response in this post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"other than socal, where do you think you might want to live? i'm open to fantasy as well as reality. my current answer is paris and and seattle, fyi.&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Posted by kat at work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The fantasy part is easy. I'm a HUGE fan of tropical fish and their enviorment so I would love to live in some glass underwater house. I wouldn't mind having a house perched above the water, with certain spots lower than others, with a glass floor. I could watch that for hours and hours. I used to have a nice salt water tank at home, but it started an electrical fire, so it's no more. Can I pick the Great Barrier Reef? Ya....I'd go with that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality? Ermm.....I'm still undecided right now. There are alot of places that I want to visit, but nothing stands out as liveable quite yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;NEXT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"have any superhero powers? what would you trade to get a different power? booked your trip to atlantis yet? "&lt;br /&gt;Posted by &lt;a href="http://bigballofstring.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;3.14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Well these are rather tame eh? Simple enough, eh? Yes, I do have powers. No matter how pissed off someone is in person, I can always make you laugh (though you'll get mad I did). Does that count? I wouldn't trade it for the world. I have all the powers that I need for now :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;....and no I haven't booked anything. If I'm going to Atlantis, it won't be for at least another 6 months or so. Thanks for reminding me. Grrrrr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;NEXT!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"so....i'll bring up the elephant in the corner of the room...what is the girls gotta eat status...."&lt;br /&gt;Posted by Anonymous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm I had a feeling that this would come up, just not as fast as this. I said everything is fair game so here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't talk much after she left (my fault) but we've since become friends again and talk online occasionally. I'm sure some of you read some stuff on her blog regarding the issue, while I didn't really say anything at all. I still have a hard time discussing things like that without being asked. (hence the Q&amp;A idea)The ironic thing is, I also had weird feelings about reading about it online. That's hypocritical, I know....whatever.  What it comes down to, is we had fun that weekend. We also had our differences, none of which became an issue during the visit. Fact of the matter is, we'd be better friends than anything. She's got plenty of guys groveling over here, and I.....uh.......I dunno what I have.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I've said before, I'm ok with dating right now, but developing a serious relationship at this point is going to be hard. I'm not writing anything off at all. I'll know when it's time to make somthin' serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;*edit*&lt;/span&gt; This post caused a bit of a stir. It was never meant to do that.  Apparently I'm some dumb schmuck for saying somthin' bad in this. I've read it over a few times and I just don't understand wtf I said wrong so I'm going to keep it. If her readers feel they need to verbally bash me, then have at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.....CONTINUING ON...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"What is your favorite childhood memory?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Posted by &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Jen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, I don't remember alot of my childhood. Some of things that I do remember, I wish I didn't. I hate to point this out, but I've already been asked this question (months ago) so I'll make it brief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer - building forts in the field behind my house and hiding from the world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NEXT!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"What are your thoughts on how to refinance the US national debt? What would be the possible effects of your plan in the areas of Cubism, The Donatist controversy, and the wave theory of light, and how would you prevent these effects?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Posted by&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Big H &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I tell you that I locked myself out of the house last night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm schmart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NEXT!!!!!11&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"You ascribe yourself to being Mexican. Being any ehtnicity is more than just a portion of blood. Tell us how you are Mexican, your roots beyond your parents and how you are "being" Mexican besides an occasional trip the Chevy's."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Posted by &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Anonymous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm more of a mexican/polish mix (or that's what I've been told).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I watch Novelas and I'd really like to sleep with Eva Mendes. Will that work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"You, and 3 other bloggers are stuck between floors on an elevator. Your cellphones and the emergency phone do not work of course and you have no idea when help might arrive. What is your plan MacGyver?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Posted by &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Grins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You lack some serious details here. Which bloggers are with me? What building are we in? What floor are we stuck on? Am I sober? Is the power out or is it just stuck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally, one would see this as a serious predicament. I see it as an opportunity. We all need a little break during the day so you might as well relax and make the most of it. Sure, I could climb up through the light fixture like they do in the movies......but what fun is that? I'll assume that the power went out, so the video camera probably went out as well. I'll also assume the fellow occupants are female (it's MY story, deal with it). The heater is probably off as well so we are going to have to huddle close. We will probably play some silly games to keep us laughing, which will ultimately lead into somthin' more daring. Fear can be an aphrodisiac, and fighting it is just a waste of time. Dares will be made, truth will be spilled, and smiles will be abundant. Once the elevator is back in order, we all walk out with secrets we will hold to the grave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;la la laaaaaaaaa........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NEXT!!!!!!!!!111&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;know anything about string theory?&lt;/span&gt; A bit....but now's not the time :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;you come to a fork in the road, left or right? &lt;/span&gt;Which ever one is less traveled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;what's your dream job? &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I wouldn't mind being a bra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted by 3.14&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*snicker*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving Along!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"I'd like to know what music you'd choose to seduce a woman?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Posted by D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never intentionally turned on some music with seduction in mind. Is that good or bad? I always thought it sounded cheesey. If I'm going to seduce you, music is certainly not the first thing I'm going to turn on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a DJ , so could that count? It's just multiple people at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Here's the winning Comment!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"I've noticed you already possess one superpower....the ability to answer questions without giving any substance, to throw out muck without backing it up..... Your superhero tag should be.....Bullshit Artist" Posted by Cyclops&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NICE!...though that's not a question.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Might I remind you that this is *my* site, and I can answer as I feel fit. I was in a silly mood yesterday so I apoligize if there wasn't the substance you were searching for. May I remind you that you are on a bachelor blog? How's this for substance. Suck A Dick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CARRY ON!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115498079455368126?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115498079455368126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115498079455368126' title='46 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115498079455368126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115498079455368126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/q-session.html' title='Q &amp; A Session'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>46</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115497974025353762</id><published>2006-08-07T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T12:46:56.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Isn't she Cute?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Attack.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/Attack.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Skibble Dibbles. (My friends cat)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skibble Dibbles does not like me. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;At all.&lt;/span&gt; I've been told that it's cuz of her siamese mix, which is fair, but I still have a hard time understanding it. I get along with ALL animals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was getting late last night, and I decided it was time to call it a night. This might sound a bit crazy, but roll with me, and you'll find out why. I usually have to peek around corners, behind the couch, and in the kitchen to see if she is around before making a sudden movement. There's been times where I didn't know she was by me, and was attacked for reasons unknown. For some reason, I didn't look last night. Call it a brief lapse of judgement....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skibbles was RIGHT behind the couch and apparently I moved a bit too fast. She took a few lion-like lunges at me and took a quick swipe at my leg. Fortunately, I have good reflexes, and was able to narrowly avoid her. Eroc and I laughed (cuz it is kinda funny) ....but this left another window of opportunity open for her. This time I was caught off guard, and her death charge REALLY threw me off. I tried to pull some Matrix style move but it didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo...I probably slept about 3 hours last night, as I was tossin' and turnin' all night. Yes. I pulled some muscles in my lower back. Yes. It hurts like a &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;bitch&lt;/span&gt;. Yes. It's from a house cat...not a lion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bite me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you're thinking it would be simple to avoid such an animal. You're wrong. Dead wrong. I have the scratches to prove it. Do you think you're tough? I invited you over and will give anyone 100 dollars if they can successfully pet her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring it on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115497974025353762?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115497974025353762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115497974025353762' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115497974025353762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115497974025353762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/isnt-she-cute.html' title='Isn&apos;t she Cute?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115472182185757538</id><published>2006-08-04T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T10:38:13.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What to do, what to do.......</title><content type='html'>Take note. This is NOT a bitchfest. Got it?....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fact = almost all of my friends are married, with a vast majority either pregnant, or already have kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My transition from being in that group, to where I'm at now, is going somewhat good. The only problem that fustrates me at times, is the fact that I have much more free time now. I know what you're thinking....what's wrong with that, right? Well, my free time usually does not usually cordinate with anyone elses. The vast majority of my time is spent solo. I don't really mind it so much ( I've always kind of been like this ) but there are times that I feel reclusive and need to venture out. The fortunate thing is, I know most people in town here, so I can go solo anywhere and be fine. Sure, I can call plenty of single people, but there are days that I just prefer to go it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, this has made me a bit sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I miss hanging out with my friends. It's the fact that I've been used to one life for the last 7 years. Like I said, the transition seems to be going well, and stuff like this is expected. Somedays I feel like I'm stagnant in the water.....and people I know are zooming right by. Maybe I need a new atmosphere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Hmmm...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my best friends was in town last weekend, and the discussion of southern california came up. A small group of us had dabbled with the idea of moving there after we had lived in Lake Tahoe for two years ( back in 97-99 ). Mike and I are one of the few left that doesn't have a family. We toyed with the idea of making that move to the beach, and thought about the possibilites it would bring. We came to the conclusion that this is realistic as either of us could get a job down there and there doesn't seem to be much holding us back. A possiblity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will we go with it? I suppose we shall find out with time. I can't help but wonder if a new area/atmosphere would be a good thing for me. Any thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115472182185757538?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115472182185757538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115472182185757538' title='29 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115472182185757538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115472182185757538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-to-do-what-to-do.html' title='What to do, what to do.......'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>29</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115462649555498206</id><published>2006-08-03T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T17:01:31.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need a Vacation</title><content type='html'>Don't we all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wandered into the office this morning and did the normal routine of sorting paperwork and checking email's, one of which was sent by a friend, regarding a vacation resort that I've been eyeballing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;LINK&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.atlantis.com/flash.aspx"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;http://www.atlantis.com/flash.aspx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not always a huge fan of resorts, but this one is just too damn cool to miss, plus it's in the Bahama's.....come on now?!? Check it out for yourself. I've spent many hours sitting here daydreaming about relaxing on the beach, only to be approached by miss jessica alba, who makes an offer I can't refuse. Then we go up to her suite.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Err.....excuse me.....I must go now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115462649555498206?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115462649555498206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115462649555498206' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115462649555498206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115462649555498206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-need-vacation.html' title='I Need a Vacation'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115456042822304586</id><published>2006-08-02T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T17:31:04.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Office</title><content type='html'>Office pranks are quite common here. We all need an occasional laugh at anothers expense to get us through the bad days. The only rule = don't dish it out, if you can't take it. Youtube has allowed these to be shared with others now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes.....we are children at heart. Forgive us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fellow co-worker has been out of the office for some time now and that makes us jealous. Some are sacrificing their time by assisting in her work, so we felt it was only fair for her to sacrifice somthin' as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This occured right before leaving the office for the day, and no she still hasn't seen her dog. It was a Valentines gift from her GF and the damn thing was always staring at me. Yes, I know we are going to hell. Trust me, there's more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vo-ja6Z1qVc"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Vo-ja6Z1qVc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115456042822304586?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115456042822304586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115456042822304586' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115456042822304586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115456042822304586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/office.html' title='The Office'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115454373183729726</id><published>2006-08-02T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T16:49:52.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing....</title><content type='html'>All this baby talk has really thrown me off today. I feel as though I must do something drastic in order to fit in with my friends. I've gone from married, with the potential for a child, to single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pondered a few idea's in the last hour and I think I've found the solution to my problems. I shall be one of the only few without a family within a few months. I'm OK with this, but it'll be hard for me to join in on their conversations pertaining to family. I don't have a significant other in my life to start such a venture right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooo.......I've done the next best thing. It was so simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need an instant family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Problem solved!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/cat-family-sm.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/cat-family-sm.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);"&gt;Carry on!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115454373183729726?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115454373183729726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115454373183729726' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115454373183729726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115454373183729726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/introducing.html' title='Introducing....'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115453786391326917</id><published>2006-08-02T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T14:01:51.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dropping Like Flies</title><content type='html'>My friends are fuckin' rabbits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No no, that's not what I meant. They are literally are breeding like rabbits this year, not actually sleeping with them. Forgive me. Walk with me so you may see how being single is few and far between with my friends. Just call me Only the Lonely. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg (jorgy) and Teresa are currently pregnant with twins. He walked into the office today and handed me the ultrasound, not knowing that I was going to post this topic today. Unfortunately there is no pictures on my computer here of them so I'll have to add this later. Congrats to you two and it was nice knowing you buddy! That's 4 for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;*edit* Blogger won't upload the pictures so I'll finish later&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;NEXT!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy and Michelle are currently pregnant with the most recent of the group. Congratulations to you two but I still have yet to see an ultrasound yet. I want proof ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....so here's a picture of their car that a few of us trashed back on their wedding at the beginning of the year. Enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/01234655.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/01234655.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/0123465.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;NEXT!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/two.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/two.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ....Keith (Big H) and Jayme are currently pregnant with twin girls. Yes, I said twin girls. This next shindig at your house shall be the "going away" party. It was nice knowing ya buddy! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/01.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/01.4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/02.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/02.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;-------------the twins-----------&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;NEXT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/erinben.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/erinben.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;...and finally last but not least, congratulations to Ben and Erin! &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;You win this years baby race.&lt;/span&gt; Little miss Madeline was born just 2 days ago. Her pictures were in my email when I sat down at work this morning. Very cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/baby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115453786391326917?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115453786391326917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115453786391326917' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115453786391326917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115453786391326917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/dropping-like-flies.html' title='Dropping Like Flies'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115446003960191646</id><published>2006-08-01T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T17:15:18.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/blog_template2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/blog_template2.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I just wanted to take a second and congratulate Jeff &amp; Keri Toll on their healthy baby boy. He sent me this ultrasound (below) yesterday and I thought I'd share the picture with everyone. I'm obviously not familiar with reading these, so he labeled it for me. The picture just trips me out. It looks like he is smiling and waving at them. Three of my best friends are pregnant, so I'm learning about these things from them now. I'm soooo outta the loop now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Picture%203.png"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/Picture%203.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115446003960191646?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115446003960191646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115446003960191646' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115446003960191646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115446003960191646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-trip.html' title='What a Trip'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115438249638148197</id><published>2006-07-31T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T13:18:59.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bachelor in Training?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/playboy.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/playboy.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is, I think I have that same reaction when browsing through the mag.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115438249638148197?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115438249638148197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115438249638148197' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115438249638148197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115438249638148197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/bachelor-in-training.html' title='Bachelor in Training?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115436485567052567</id><published>2006-07-31T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T16:06:45.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Riddance?</title><content type='html'>After numerous compliants about the music, I have now taken it down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or did I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did enjoy the occasional tunes but it seems they were causing some browser problems with some  so ultimately it's not worth it.  If anyone wants  tunes in the future,  just call me and I'll sing to you on the phone while you are reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asdfljkhasd;lkf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;*EDIT*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I'm curious as to how many people out there have problems with their browser cuz of music video's.....do share in the comment section below. I've changed it back to how it was before so EVERYONE can have a voice. Sorry about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bloggers sure are demanding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sda;kjlfh;lasdkjhgfa;sdjkl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115436485567052567?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115436485567052567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115436485567052567' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115436485567052567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115436485567052567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/good-riddance.html' title='Good Riddance?'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115411816044843656</id><published>2006-07-28T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T13:22:40.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now I've Done It!!</title><content type='html'>The time has come for me to touch up the site a bit. I was getting tired of the narrow display that blogger offers, so this was long overdue. There is still a handful of things that I need to touch up (like the size of my dome in the profile pic...wow ) so try to look past any small issues for now. Any advice and idea's are welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115411816044843656?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115411816044843656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115411816044843656' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115411816044843656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115411816044843656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/now-ive-done-it.html' title='Now I&apos;ve Done It!!'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115411030184257132</id><published>2006-07-28T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T12:12:29.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have Issues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/screaming.0.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/screaming.0.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who doesn't, right? I enjoy poking fun at mine more than most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todays Issue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking in my Sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has become a bigger issue as of late, and I've yet to figure out why. Instead of the brief one liners, I'm actually going into full paragraphs now. I've also progressed into the occasional yelling spurts that are so damn loud, that I wake up myself. Now I know what you are thinking.....big deal, right? Well the problem is, the usual content of what I'm yelling about, is kind of embarrassing. Because of this, I must be selective on when/where I sleep or take a nap. I rarely remember what I'm dreaming about UNLESS I wake myself up by talking or yelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Example 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recall having a dream last week, that was based on a real life situation from when I was much younger. It dealt with a confrontation I had with my younger brother while living with the family. I was provocking him as older brothers so and he decided to come after me with a fork. Funny, right? Well, it was at this moment that I elevated my sleep talking voice and screamed "MOMMMMM!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now normally I would wake up and giggle, but I am staying with my friend and now there's that chance that I might be heard. I immediately jumped up in fear. Unfortunately I heard Eroc in the other room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....which was then followed by some laughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Fuck&lt;/span&gt;. I've been caught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;Example 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only a few days ago. This dream was a bit more perverted and I don't recall the serious details, so I'll just get straight to the punchline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:30 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"TITTTTIES!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......wow. Fortunately Eroc was still asleep on the other side of the apartment. Whew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now one can come to two conclusions on these last two scenario's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) I'm really 12 years old&lt;br /&gt;b) I have a new sleep version of Tourets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all fun and games for now, but I'm going to be in serious trouble if we happen to have some blogger slumber party. Forgive me ahead of time, as I'm retarded. Tape recorders are welcome as I'd like to hear the rest of my sleep conversations. These loud, obnoxious, one liners must have more content behind them. Help a guy out here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more note. It sounds as though I get to hang with my pooch in another week and a half and that makes me.....a happy panda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carry on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/screaming.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115411030184257132?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115411030184257132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115411030184257132' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115411030184257132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115411030184257132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-have-issues.html' title='I Have Issues'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115387638179578312</id><published>2006-07-25T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T10:50:58.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>*Grunt*</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/196359056_d04d98f946.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/196359056_d04d98f946.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nice picture eh? You can thank my friend Jim for that. My digital camera is still locked up in a storage unit (on accident) and hopefully will appear soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week wasn't exactly very eventful. The highlights?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;a)&lt;/span&gt; Animal sitting. While this had some down points, I still had a good time with them. They aren't the best vodka drinking buddies in the world, but they ARE wonderful wrestlers. I have the scratches on my chest to prove it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;b)&lt;/span&gt; Animal arguing. This SUCKED. I had attempted a few emails/calls/etc to get ahold of my X so that I may see Stella for a few days. I'm always hesitant to do this, as it never starts off good. This time I've been informed that Stella was always *her* dog and never *our* dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yea.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's like a serious kick in the nuts. We both agreed that we wanted to get a golden puppy, and her parents actually brought her to the house. So with that theory, apparently I had nothing to do with her ever. It sounds silly, I know. The fact of the matter is, I miss the dog. Alot. I don't want to argue with my x about it....but she always has an excuse as to why I can't see her. She tell's me she doesn't think I'll give her back. Uhhh...right. She says her friends think I'm using the dog as an excuse to see her. Uhhh...no. Then it's the fact that I'm staying in an apartment and can't have a dog. Ok....maybe fair, but it's not like I can just have a day at the park. I'm sick of being nice and assuming everything is going to go smooth. My softness has been taken advantage of. I've done everything that's been asked of me (with the exception of forgetting some money I said I'd give her recently for some payments, which we've now discussed), while I've requested nothing in return. All I want to do is see my dog for a bit, and it piss's me off that this can't happen. I understand that we both have anger between us. I also understand that we have to be adults and just suck it up sometimes and just agree on somthin. I've done it MANY times in the last few months.....and I've only had one damn visit with Stella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I give up and just move on and get a new dog or is it fair to want to see her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....and I'm sorry you had to hear it. I'm just tired of biting my tongue. I'm mad that it can't be simple. Instead of just allowing this to happen, it gets turned around to things that I've done wrong in the past. Then it becomes a battle of "who done what". It's just shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooooooooo...with that said, I needed to get out over the weekend. It was a friend of mines bday so I opted to go out with Greg, Erin and Ali. This was a good move as we all had alot of fun. Patron + beer flowed like water....and it was highly needed. It's amazing how one can bottle up so much energy during the week, and have a simple night like that just to let it all out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's have a hand for weekends. Here Here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...back to work now. Buh BYe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/196360721_07d75fdb5e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/400/196360721_07d75fdb5e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;*Update*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it looks as though I get to hang with the pooch in another week or so. I wonder if this helped.... anyway, not important. I appreciate all the advice. It's nice to hear from someone on the outside to get another perspective on things. I'm forever in debt to u all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115387638179578312?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115387638179578312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115387638179578312' title='26 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115387638179578312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115387638179578312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/grunt.html' title='*Grunt*'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>26</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115352278107140262</id><published>2006-07-21T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T17:32:55.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/embarrassed%20chimp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/200/embarrassed%20chimp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I hope I didn't come across as a whiner at the end of the previous post. I threw in that last little "finding someone to take care of me" comment just for shits and giggles. I DO appreciate the kind words though. I felt kind of silly....but ah well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that I will have someone in my life to help me through that......at least I'm fairly certain I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I am training my cats to do the laundry (bed sheets, etc) and cook. Let's hope I find someone before we graduate to the sponge bath training, cuz I think that's going to be kind of awkward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115352278107140262?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115352278107140262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115352278107140262' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115352278107140262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115352278107140262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/doh.html' title='Doh!'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115349955644069556</id><published>2006-07-21T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T17:19:40.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain in my Ass</title><content type='html'>The list could go on and on here. No it's not about my x (maybe later), and no it's not about the ridiculous heat (it's been 100+ for way too long). My doctor visit's are more frequent than I'd like them to be, and I just had one the other night, so I figured I might as well share a little insight on my life with everyone. It's not exactly a warm story, but it's still interesting. Hopefully I don't gross anyone out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;1995&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just graduated from high school. Two of my best friends (Jeff, Mike) and I were building some late season snowboard jumps up in the Donner Summit area when we hit a bit of a snag. We had bounced around between a few area's, trying to find a good spot to build somthin' big, and finally had decided on a decent spot. I ended up hitting it first with entirely too much speed and got bucked a bit sideways and landed away from the landing transition into the flats. It wasn't a very graceful fall but it wasn't as ugly as other's that we had been in, but I knew immediately that somthin' was wrong. I sat up and tried to unbuckle my bindings only to find out that my left leg wasn't reacting like it was supposed to. In fact it wasn't reacting at all. I could feel the muscles trying to move it, but I could tell that the bones were not attached in the upper region of my femur. After a bit of yelling and cursing, we decided we should probably get going. Unfortunately it was the off season, so we were the only one's on the mountain. If I recall correctly, I think Jeff and Mike went down the hill a bit and grabbed a red cross sled and tried to help me into that to pull me down the mountain. I don't know what I would have done if they weren't around to help. They saved my ass that day and I'll forever be in debt. I can't remember if we used my board to sit on, or that sled, but I recall every bump hurting like shit. It took quite awhile to get me down, seeing as we had to go as slow as possible. I remember standing up and feeling the dangling feeling in my hip.....I don't think that pain will ever leave my mind. They helped me into the car and I tried to sit sideways so that I wasn't sitting on it. There was no inner support in there, so my danm leg kept falling down, so I had to hold on to my thigh as tight as possible to keep it in one spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then opted to drive back into Sacramento (another hour and half away) and from what I recall, the ride home was rather quiet. I hate going to the hospital, so the whole time I was thinking maybe it's just a tear, and I won't be in there overnight. Unfortunately I was wrong. By the time we got into Sac, my leg was going into some serious spasms. We pulled up to the hospital only to be encountered by some dumbass workers. My sense of humor was all but gone by this time, and they assumed that becuase I was not crying, it couldn't be that bad. Jokes were made as they helped me into the wheelchair to cart me in. I requested some pain medication, but I was informed that they could not help with this until they knew exactly what had happened. Next were the x-rays, which were about as uncomfortable as could be. I had no assistance there, and teh technician kept having me rotate in different positions to get alternate angles. This required me to pick up my leg and hold it in odd positions. Not Fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could tell immediately when the films came out. Everyone started looking at me differently and their tones changed. I saw my mom start to cry. I was rushed into a room to wait for immediate emergency surgery. The good news here is, after about 4 hours of ridiculous pain, I finally had my pain medication. Ahhhh relief. The bad news is that my bed was set right in front of my xray film, and I watched random doctors walk by and stop to look at it. Then they'd look at me...which was very uncomfortable, as I knew it wasn't a good look. Ah well...that's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first surgery was that night and I stayed in the hospital for a few days after that. My hip was put back together with multiple pins and I was informed that this was only a temporary fix. I was still young and active and they figured this would work best for now. After a brief hiatus, I was once again back to my usual snowboarding and skateboarding ways. This surgery gave me 5 more decent years of riding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;2000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for the full surgery. Ugh. Here's a little shot of the side once I got out of the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Hip.3.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/Hip.2.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one was the hardest of the three. I now have an artificial hip (picture below). I'll never forget the first week in the hospital following this surgery. Most Pain Ever. The kicker was my pain medication made me feel like I was going to throw up, so I didn't take it as much as I should have. I laid in bed for a good two months, followed by another two months on crutches with no weight put on my left leg. Then came learning to walk normally again on the new parts. Good Times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from the scars on my leg, there is nothing that would prove that I have this in me. Alot of people don't even know about it. It's not exactly a normal dinner converstation, ya know? While I don't have the strength that I want in it, I continue to be as active as possible. I've had to retire from a few activities but that's just life. Unfortunately I've been rather sore, which scares me a bit. These parts last a good 15-20, and need to be replaced after wear and tear. You do the math.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/chp_artificial_hip.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/chp_artificial_hip.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think I'll find someone that will love me enough to help me through my next surgeries in the future? That thought sometimes scares me.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's my story. I'm tired of typing. I suppose I can answer questions in the comment section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/uchr_02_img0183.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115349955644069556?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115349955644069556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115349955644069556' title='38 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115349955644069556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115349955644069556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/pain-in-my-ass_21.html' title='Pain in my Ass'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>38</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115342579146487065</id><published>2006-07-20T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T15:19:19.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Assistance Please</title><content type='html'>This is another post about a mastiff, yet not the same one's. I'd like you to all meet Moose. She is big H and jayme's dog, and they have posted her up on a Jones Soda contest website. Click the link below to assist them in getting her picture on the label.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/0000635588.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/0000635588.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the link to cast your votes. 10's are much appreciated! Help them out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;LINK&lt;/span&gt; = &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jonessoda.com/gallery/view.php?ID=635588&amp;search=jayme&amp;amp;category=7&amp;offset=1"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;http://www.jonessoda.com/gallery/view.php?ID=635588&amp;search=jayme&amp;amp;amp;category=7&amp;amp;offset=1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115342579146487065?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115342579146487065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115342579146487065' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115342579146487065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115342579146487065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/your-assistance-please.html' title='Your Assistance Please'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115327718397035824</id><published>2006-07-18T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T19:46:23.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine That</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#CDDEFF" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Likely a First Born&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EBF2FF"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/birthorderpredictorquiz/first-born.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At your darkest moments, you feel guilty.&lt;br /&gt;At work and school, you do best when you're researching.&lt;br /&gt;When you love someone, you tend to agree with them often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In friendship, you are considerate and compromising.&lt;br /&gt;Your ideal careers are: business, research, counseling, promotion, and speaking.&lt;br /&gt;You will leave your mark on the world with discoveries, new information, and teaching people to dream.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/birthorderpredictorquiz/"&gt;The Birth Order Predictor&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I usually skip over these things. The ones from this site seem to be spot on though. I just had to do it to see if it pegged me as the first born idiot that I am. Not bad huh? See if it works for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115327718397035824?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115327718397035824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115327718397035824' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115327718397035824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115327718397035824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/imagine-that.html' title='Imagine That'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115324795245374691</id><published>2006-07-18T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T17:40:51.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad World</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Nebolish_Mastiffs_Two_Adults.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/Nebolish_Mastiffs_Two_Adults.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you how much I regret putting up that babysitting picture yesterday. I went and jinxed myself. I cringed when I logged on to the blog this morning and saw what I had done.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I am currently babysitting a few of my friends critters and house right now. Things were all peachy until last night. They're in Reno right now, enjoying multiple libations and hopefully winning some money, while I'm in fear of being snuffed in my sleep. I'll let them enjoy themselves for now, and I will just break down the events in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)"&gt;Day 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glorious day. Everything is going fine. I'm confident that the next 3-4 days will go just as smooth. My only predicament involves the audio going out on me on the new tv. The problem is solved with a quick phone call....no big deal. The feedings go as scheduled and we play as much as possible to assure that they sleep well. I even find time to catch up on the Band of Brothers dvd's, which I love. I find myself crawling into bed around 11pm, ready for the new work week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);font-size:130%;" &gt;Day 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a wet sensation on my face. I wake up to two mastiffs shoving their giant tongues in every orifice on my head. Lovely. Good morning. I love you too. Time to get up apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decide I might as well get up and take a shower and get ready for work. 3 cups of food for the dogs, half can of wet and sprinkled dry food for the cat. I leave the dog's in the backyard while I shower. They apparently don't agree with that move. After washing, I walk to the back door to see them both sitting there with mud covered noses and dirty paws. Must be dig time right? I find the holes and fill them back up. Then I fill up multiple bowls of water, as the high is hitting somewhere around 110 degree's....and I'll be in the office most the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come back to the house around 4pm. The backyard resembles a snow globe....and I'm not sure why. Somehow they've found a large piece of styrafoam and decided to obliterate it into snow like flakes alllll across the backyard. This might be a genius move to convince their doggy minds that it's not 110 outside. This also might be a "fuck you for leaving us outside" move. No matter. I cleaned it up. I find a new hole and cover it up as well, then clean up their paws so we can go play in the house. We watch some more Band of Brothers, eat dinner and soon decide it's getting late. I let them outside to go potty, while I do the same. (inside of course) I let them back in and go check my emails before heading to bed. I finish up and go through the house to turn off the lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmm......call me crazy, but I smell shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh yes, of course. One is sitting with their head down. Accidents happen, so I search the house to clean it up. The search doesn't last too long. I find a trail of diarreha by the dining table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sweet.&lt;br /&gt;fucking hell.&lt;br /&gt;mother bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I clean the brown river and wash up and call it a night. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);font-size:130%;" &gt;DAY 3 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have that odd feeling that somthing is watching me. I open my eyes to find their cat, 4 inches from my face......staring at me. I obviously made some sort of yelping noise cuz the two dogs are immediately in the room to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time to get up again....just a little earlier this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eat some cereal, play with them a bit, listen to the cat whine about not being fed yet etc etc. I take them outside cuz I'm sure they have to go to the bathroom. Sure enough, they both go on cue. It's now shower time. Now I'm trying to be logical and I'm thinking that letting them outside yesterday during shower time was no bueno, so I decide to leave them in and make it quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice try you dumb bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm greeted by another river of poo in the dining area. &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Fucking lovely&lt;/span&gt;. Nothing is more fun then cleaning runny poo first thing in the morning. I think they actually get a kick out of me cursing and tying a shirt around my mouth to mask the smell. Can dogs laugh? I'm almost positive I heard some sort of giggle coming out of one of them. Maybe I'm just losin' it. That's always possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get everything together and head to work. I can't quite fathom what kind of damage ensued while I was gone today and I must admit that I'm a little scared to head back over to the house. I don't think there is anything else they can get into but I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm wrong. In fact I've been wrong this whole time. Ahhhh the stress. Could someone come with me and hold my hand and assure me that everything will be ok this evening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one more night. &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115324795245374691?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115324795245374691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115324795245374691' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115324795245374691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115324795245374691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/mad-world.html' title='Mad World'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26418422.post-115316990267164064</id><published>2006-07-17T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T13:58:49.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a great babysitter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/kids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/320/kids.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm available next weekend if anyone needs me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26418422-115316990267164064?l=chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/feeds/115316990267164064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26418422&amp;postID=115316990267164064' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115316990267164064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26418422/posts/default/115316990267164064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chroniclesofabachelor.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-great-babysitter.html' title='I&apos;m a great babysitter'/><author><name>Dustin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07083651340423917326</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7706/1750/1600/Mirror2.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry></feed>
