<?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-8985664</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:29:36.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Proof I'm A Moron</title><subtitle type='html'>These are real things I thought or said today that truely prove I am a moron.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110653268998236530</id><published>2005-01-23T18:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-23T18:11:29.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eggnog</title><content type='html'>"Hey Tyler, how's that eggnog?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;At the end of Lewis' new CD.  New, wicked good CD there are a bunch of random things.  The first thing you hear is Tyler talking with someone abotu how he likes eggnog.  Eggnog is good.  This isn't really moronic, is it?  Nawh, it's just boring.  I think I need something to keep me awake.  It's only eight-ten and I am wiped.  I even took a nap today.  I suppose I will consume caffine now and stay awake a few hours longer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tonys says, "Tea!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110653268998236530?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110653268998236530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110653268998236530' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110653268998236530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110653268998236530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/eggnog.html' title='Eggnog'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110645862287093747</id><published>2005-01-19T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T21:37:02.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Blessed Life</title><content type='html'>"I know Tyler, someday somethign bad will happen to me, but so far this semester I have lived a blessed life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So this semester has been rock your freakin' face off amazing.  God has done some really amazing things in my life, especially with my passion.  Today, for example, one of my pastors asked talk to a guy about hanging up some of my art at church and to ask him about doing the coffee house/arts ministry and using it as PCM.  Mmm Hmm...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "God was an artist.  Go look at a mountain."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110645862287093747?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110645862287093747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110645862287093747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110645862287093747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110645862287093747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/my-blessed-life.html' title='My Blessed Life'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110645842742979533</id><published>2005-01-18T21:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T21:33:47.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Indie Rocker</title><content type='html'>"I want to shave uber-bad.  I feel like a dirty Indie Rocker.  Please kill me if I decide to wear a blazer to class."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yeah, so mustach day is on next Tuesday, and I have been growing a beard for it.  I feel incredibly dirty and am worried I will somehow sucumb to euro-trash trendy fashion.  Oh sweet razor I used to hate.  I pine for your love once again.  Your hot smooth steal is pure joy to my face.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "I love you razor, but not enough to go back to you on a daily basis."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110645842742979533?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110645842742979533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110645842742979533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110645842742979533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110645842742979533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/dirty-indie-rocker.html' title='Dirty Indie Rocker'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110645816755538798</id><published>2005-01-12T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-22T21:29:27.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shanks</title><content type='html'>"Everything is solved with a good shanking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yep, I've been obsessed with shanks lately.  For some reason whenever someone screws someone else over it seems like the only logical response is a good old fashion shanking.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Shank him!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110645816755538798?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110645816755538798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110645816755538798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110645816755538798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110645816755538798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/shanks.html' title='Shanks'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110542367784408391</id><published>2005-01-10T21:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T22:14:02.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Not Your Man &amp; Mukluks</title><content type='html'>"Kevin, Dr. Lightbody saw me today and said 'How's my man?' !!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;That is self explanatory. If you don't know her she is old and weird. I didn't even think she enjoyed having me in her class. Then again which professor would enjoy having me and Kev sitting next to each other. For the record - I am not her man. I am not anyone's man, crap!!! I am a Liger though, Check it out... &lt;/li&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;img alt="Liger" src="http://images.quizilla.com/R/retromex/1104858739_eonDLiger0.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liger&lt;br /&gt;(Please rate my quiz)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://quizilla.com/users/retromex/quizzes/Which%20Napoleon%20Dynamite%20character%20are%20you?/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;brought to you by &lt;a href="http://quizilla.com"&gt;Quizilla&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Andy G, will you stop the mukluk trend?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;He says he can't. He says I have to talk to the girls who wear them to stop it. I hate the whole mukluk trend. Note to any one who wears them: you look like an idiot in those. Especially the fact that it is mostly Indie girls who wear them. That trend was started by Brittney Spears. India girls cannot copy Brittney Spears. It is so anti-India. I'm not a scene elitist. Well, I'm really not even a Scener, so I can't be an elitist of any scene. Eclectic is the way to be. Anyways, back to my point, Copying a pop star ruins the who Indieness of it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "I actually posted new art in all 3 sections! &lt;a href="http://www.artmajeur.com/fattony"&gt;www.artmajeur.com/fattony&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110542367784408391?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110542367784408391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110542367784408391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110542367784408391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110542367784408391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/im-not-your-man-mukluks.html' title='I&apos;m Not Your Man &amp; Mukluks'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110542281770825695</id><published>2005-01-09T21:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T22:09:02.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zoning Out</title><content type='html'>Yeah today I was at the mall, in the food court, with Julie, Roommate, and Pecs eating lunch since my school would not feed me. I was zoning out looking at the coffee shop. Julie says to me, "Tony, you are either really bad at checking girls out or you just don't care about staring at people." I was all confused. She then told em that the girl that walked past obviosuly noticed that I was obviously staring at them. I then tried to remember what happened in the moments I was off in nowhere land and how long I had been there. I have being in a zone-outish state of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fat Tony says, "All I remeber was two girls walking past and looking at her mucklucks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110542281770825695?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110542281770825695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110542281770825695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110542281770825695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110542281770825695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/zoning-out.html' title='Zoning Out'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110517361846397772</id><published>2005-01-07T00:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-08T00:40:18.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Scrawed Again, Culture Nerd, &amp; Where Have All the Crosswalks Gone?</title><content type='html'>"Yep, Madison Greene still hates me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So I was talking to Roommate last night when I found out Madison Greene is playing in the 'berbs again (Mmmm.... "The Berbs." Good movie. Some of the best Tom Hanks if you ask me. "I want to kill everything. Satan is good. Satan is my pal." Note: Children, I do not support Satanistic chanting, it was just funny in that scene. "Don't come see me after class or write my e-mails. I don't care what you think." Quote by Dr. DeRosset.). Well I was pumped until Roommate kindly reminded me that it lands in Founder's Week. Yes kids, they still hate me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"It's official; I'm a culture nerd."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So instead of packing for a while today, I watched a documentary on the changes in modern American English. It got a little to personal when he was talking with a surfer from Cali who owned a beautiful '70 minibus. Anyways, only three types of people dig that kind of jazz. 1.) Old people how are ashamed at the way we have destroyed our language. note to them: you started the "cool" thing; deal with it. 2.) Linguistics majors at Moody. I had flashbacks to the pronunciation arguments in the lounge last year. Having a floor made up of 50% linguistic majors leads to awkward things. 3.) Culture nerds like me. Oh crap! This is the second day in a row that I have had three points in my explanation. I really am on my way to being a Baptist pastor. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Where have all the crosswalks gone?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I walked four blocks through my town today and had to only stop for one "don't walk/walk" sign. Now, you have to understand that this is the only one in my town. The only reason we have it is because it is the intersection of Main Street and a highway. I'm used to having to stop every black for those stupid things in Chicago. I even plan my route based on them. I go strait as long as I can until I have a don't walk, then I cross the street. Man, I walked 8 blocks and didn't have to wait for a single car except the two times I crossed the highway. Last I'll be doing of that for a while. Heading back to "Graceland" tomorrow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Either I was a vicious moron today or I am just being nice and blessing you with 3. You pick."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110517361846397772?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110517361846397772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110517361846397772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110517361846397772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110517361846397772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/scrawed-again-culture-nerd-where-have.html' title='Scrawed Again, Culture Nerd, &amp; Where Have All the Crosswalks Gone?'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110508359685360468</id><published>2005-01-05T23:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-06T23:39:56.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>California Pansies</title><content type='html'>"Holy Crap California!  60 degrees, you must be freezing your rich little Hollywood kiesters off - Pansies!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Okay, so on tv tongiht they had all these people whining about how it's freakin freezing in Southern California.  Attention people, 60 degrees is not freezing.  I bet it is subzero here tonight.  Suck it up.  It was too cold for people to get otu of their cars and go into starbucks so the drive-thru was packed.  I have a few problems with that. 1.) It's only 60 degrees. 2.) They had their window down in truck.  Now if you don't see the problem with that come see me for a free slap across the back of the head.  3.) Wear a jacket.  Is that such a hard concept to grasp.  If you are too cold, put on more clothes.  Oh yeah, and to the little girl who said she thought it was too cold to go to school, you are an idiot.  As long as the freakin' bus can run and pick up kids, it's not too cold for school.  Seriously!!!  I mean in a few months, once it finally reaches the 60s again, I will probably start throwing on shorts.  Idiots!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Yeah, I hate the cold too, but deal with it!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;***Correction to yesterdays PIAM: The band was Skindred.  Once again, I am a moron.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110508359685360468?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110508359685360468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110508359685360468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110508359685360468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110508359685360468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/california-pansies.html' title='California Pansies'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110499681875357185</id><published>2005-01-04T23:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-05T23:33:38.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tie-Dye Sock &amp; Reggae Metal</title><content type='html'>"You're just jealous that I have tie-dye socks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yeah, that's what I'll be saying to everyone from now on. My loving littlest sister bought me a tie-dye kit for Christmas. I did two shirts and had extra dye so I did a couple pairs of socks. Oh crap! I have tie-dye socks! Next thing I know I'll be Vegan. Crap! I like meat. Steak is yummy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Reggae Metal?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The band Skindown from the UK was on Conan tonight. Let's see sounds very umm... death metalish? Wrong. Reggae Metal. Unique and suprisingly decent. If I still pretended that I liked Hardcore like I did in my younger years I might pick it. Pour old Bob didn't know what would happen once he wrote "Punky Reggae Party."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "I'm more hippie than you."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110499681875357185?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110499681875357185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110499681875357185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110499681875357185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110499681875357185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/tie-dye-sock-reggae-metal.html' title='Tie-Dye Sock &amp; Reggae Metal'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482665335990168</id><published>2005-01-03T00:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T00:17:33.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got the Power</title><content type='html'>"Ok, I need to make a post about playing this nerd game."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tonight at my cousins' joint we played Monopoly.  Not just any Monopoly though.  It was the Lord of the Rings edition.  Really there is only one rule changebut the names of everything change too.  For example the money is now called "Power."  Yeah, I won.  I am the Ken Jenings of LOTR Monopoly.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "I am a nerd."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110482665335990168?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482665335990168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482665335990168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482665335990168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482665335990168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-got-power.html' title='I Got the Power'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482636242955626</id><published>2005-01-01T00:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T00:26:53.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Madison Greene Hates Me</title><content type='html'>"I really am begginning to think that Madison Greene hates me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Every freakin time I plan to go see MG I get screwed over! Argg... Today we had a wicked ice storm that I was not going to drive for 2 hours through. Last time everyone bailed on me. Lameo. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "I just want to jam out to some crazy Christian Hippie music. Is that so wrong?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110482636242955626?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482636242955626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482636242955626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482636242955626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482636242955626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2005/01/madison-greene-hates-me.html' title='Madison Greene Hates Me'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482702661602754</id><published>2004-12-31T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T00:23:46.616-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Eve</title><content type='html'>"You kids need to get more single women at your parties."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So I showed up at my cousin's joint at 11 tonight after watching National Treaure.  Good movie.  Anyways,  there were a total of 3 girls there; all dating someone.  There were 6 guys there; 3 of us were single.  Now can't they find at least one single girl?  Come on!  Then again, with the drawing little J did on his boulderdash card and some of his answers, maybe less women the better.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Women are funner to talk to.  They look better and smell better than boys."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110482702661602754?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482702661602754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482702661602754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482702661602754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482702661602754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/new-years-eve.html' title='New Year&apos;s Eve'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482612118047219</id><published>2004-12-30T00:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T00:28:41.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck In Due to Weather</title><content type='html'>"Thanks for rubbing it in Kev."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kevin randomly called today. I guess he found my number in his room and wanted to see if it was really mine or some other Tony's. I was stuck at home because we were having a wicked ice storm. He was talking about having his window open and not going outside because he was afraid the palm tree would attack him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Kevin M. Howell you are a sarcastic jerkface."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110482612118047219?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482612118047219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482612118047219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482612118047219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482612118047219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/stuck-in-due-to-weather.html' title='Stuck In Due to Weather'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482822232192224</id><published>2004-12-28T00:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T00:43:42.320-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Find Someone When I'm Good and Ready</title><content type='html'>"I'll Find Someone When I'm Good and Ready"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I went out for coffee tonight with Nick Hulce.  I was about to try and find someone to go for coffee when he called.  My dad, sister, and some other family members were watching all 3 extended editons of LOTR back to back.  I was going insane.  I drank 5 cups at Country Kitchen, setting my total for the day at 13 measuring cups of black coffee.  New record I believe.  Nick kept trying to set me up with one of his wife's friends.  Sara Marbs saw us and talked for a while.  Nick happened to mention to her that I'm single.  She sarcasticly responded with "we never thought about that before."  I laughed.  After she left I informed Nick that Sara was the girl I was seeing at the end of the summer.  Anyways, that point is, Mom, Nick, and whoever else tries to give me dating advice:  I will ask out who I want, when I want.  I will handle my dating life the way I choose.  granted I may not be doing so keen right now, it doesn't bother me.  I'll find one when I find one.  Oh crap I sound like a fat 30 year old, comic book store employee.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Sara Marbs: You are cool."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110482822232192224?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482822232192224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482822232192224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482822232192224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482822232192224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/ill-find-someone-when-im-good-and.html' title='I&apos;ll Find Someone When I&apos;m Good and Ready'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482566106861265</id><published>2004-12-24T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T00:01:01.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Headshop Scented Shaving Cream</title><content type='html'>"Mom, this shaving cream you bought me smells like a head shop. I'm not really complaining. It smells good, but I need to cover the scent with patcholi."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yeah, for Christmas my mom bought me this special shaving cream stuff that for some reason smells like a head shop. There is no hemp in it or anything, but it still smells like that. I don't mind the smell. In fact I enjoy it, however I don't want everyone to think I smoke weed, even though people say if they didn't know me they would guess I did. I guess what I'm getting at is that I don't need to give them anymore support.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Is it bad to like that smell?"&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/8985664-110482566106861265?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482566106861265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482566106861265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482566106861265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482566106861265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/headshop-scented-shaving-cream.html' title='Headshop Scented Shaving Cream'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110482519484409770</id><published>2004-12-23T22:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-03T23:53:14.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Eve</title><content type='html'>"Oh yes, another rousing game of 'Beat On Tony.'  I feel bad saying it, but I was just waiting for one to get hurt so their parents would actually do something to stop them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Christmas Eve, like every year, was at my Grandma Kriegl's.  Also, like every year, all of my little cousins were there.  Like every year, there was a rousing game of "Beat On Tony."  It's rather self explanatory.  Six kids all attacking me.  The only problem is that they are getting older and bigger.  This means they hit harder and fight longer.  However, just like before they don't listen when their parents tell them to settle down.  Yippie!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says "Man, I should have posted this sooner." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110482519484409770?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110482519484409770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110482519484409770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482519484409770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110482519484409770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/christmas-eve.html' title='Christmas Eve'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110370142269723465</id><published>2004-12-20T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T23:43:42.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Need to Shave</title><content type='html'>"Holy crap! I look like a Euro-crap rocker!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Well, I'm on vacation so I didn't shave for a couple days. I was going to do it today but since I was going to be in the live nativity at church I thought I would hold off a day and sport a slight beard to put me in a little bit more of a first century role. You know, they didn't quite have bic razors yet back then. Anyways, I waked in the bathroom before taking a shower and was disgusted with my appearance. My hair was all messed up and I had a half beard just like those indie rockers I despise. I guess all I need to do now to be cool is put on a blazer and make disonet noise on a crappy guitar while screaming in a really bad, fake British accent.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "I can't wait to shave."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110370142269723465?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110370142269723465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110370142269723465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110370142269723465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110370142269723465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/why-i-need-to-shave.html' title='Why I Need to Shave'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110366030856317172</id><published>2004-12-20T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T12:18:28.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the End of the Music World as We Know It.</title><content type='html'>"Someone obviously didn't realize the SNL "Don't Fear the Reaper" sketch was a joke."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was up late, like I usually am, watching "Last Call with Carson Daley." Yeah, I know, the guys a duffus and all of his guests are morons. Anyways, he had this band on there called The Rapture. Carson's description of them was "I don't know of a way to classify their sound besides amazing." Carson, for that moronic comment you get 50 free punches in the faces care of yours truly. These guys have managed to reach new lows in this somehow loved musical style I refer to as "Euro-crap." To make matters worse they had one dude who was gifted with the spiritual gift of dancing around the stage like a freakin' idiot while pounding on a cowbell. Yep, that's all he did for the entire song. Note to the band: the whole Dick Dickerson thing about having a fever and the only prescription is more cowbell, Yeah SNL was mocking the song. Will Farrell can pound on a cowbell and dance like an idiot and be cool, because he's Will Farrell; nothing he does is serious. You my friend are deserving of being beaten like you were beating that cowbell. Halfway through this &lt;em&gt;amazing&lt;/em&gt; performance I noticed he was wearing what I assumed to be a cowbell strap around his wrist. Oh, imagine that calamity that might ensue if this dude just so happened to drop the precious cowbell. The song would be ruined. No not because it was such a great song. No no no, it sucked. It would be ruined because the hilarious fact that band had a guy who plays cowbell the entire song.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Leave the cowbell in the classics. "Don't Fear the Reaper" and "Lowrider" work with cowbell. New Songs? NO!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110366030856317172?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110366030856317172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110366030856317172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110366030856317172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110366030856317172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/its-end-of-music-world-as-we-know-it.html' title='It&apos;s the End of the Music World as We Know It.'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110360372729655341</id><published>2004-12-18T20:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T20:35:27.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Family Christmas Party</title><content type='html'>"I am making sure that I am married to a girl before I take her to one of these."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So I was at yet another annual Hansen Clan Christmas Party tonight. Now let me give you a little idea of what my family is like. See, my dad comes from a large Norwegian family that all live really close. This time only about 65 people managed to show up. I'm guessing there is over 100 of us now with all the babies my older cousins keep having. Pretty much any holiday that you can conceive of there being a party for they all get together and celebrate. They also have rather unique traditions. For example, every Christmas party includes singing weird songs in honor of their Norwegian heritage. One such song is "O, Lutefisk." My favorite Christmas tradition out there is the singing of "The 12 Days of Christmas." See, one of my Great-Aunts divides up the families into their traditional "day" and each family sings along with various levels of enthusing. My family is knowing for being on the bottom end of that range. See some, like the Trasks, enjoy the whole spectacle and add motions and crazy junk like that. Those of us on the Kriegl side get the most pleasure out of resisting and watching my Great-Aunt get annoyed with us. We managed to pull in the award for the worst singing family this year. Way to go Kriegls. So anyway, everyone there, though sober, looks like they've thrown down a keg each by the "unique" forms of entertainment. That whole Christmas carols thing is one of the milder traditions. The Labor Day party, well that one gets us in the papers most year. Nothing like marching across a rusty bridge in Norwegian Pride to say a little prayer and through a cardboard Lutefisk over the edge. If you don't know what a lutefisk is, you probably are better off. It's some sort of fish prepared in a traditional way that is supposed to take horrible and smell even worse. I'm glad I never had to try that stuff. So anyways, I'm convinced that if I am ever going to get me a wife, I'm going to have to "surprise" her with that dark part of my existence until we're married and she can't run. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110360372729655341?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110360372729655341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110360372729655341' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110360372729655341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110360372729655341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/family-christmas-party.html' title='The Family Christmas Party'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110280292328575155</id><published>2004-12-11T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-11T14:08:43.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Up 'Til 5 &amp; Kids Shows</title><content type='html'>For Some odd reason I was up until 5 for no reason. I meant to post an update and go to bed. That was at 2:30. Waling by the lounge I passed Tommy Goodlooks and Purdyboy in the lounge playing chess and ended up trapped there until 5. Idiot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why are all kids shows based on acid trips?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I asked many people this today after listening to Parker and visiting &lt;a href="http://www.boohbah.com"&gt;http://www.boohbah.com&lt;/a&gt;. That page is amazing. Who needs drugs when you can watch children's shows. I think it is a prerequisite that you do large amounts of acid before you can make a children's show. Anyone who has seen "H. R. Puffinstuff" knows what I'm talking about. I mean, even Scooby Doo. Those of you who argue that Scooby and Shaggy were not stoners are idiots! That's some messed up junk. I once again inform you that I am not down with drugs, I only joke about it. All I have ever done is had a sip of beer before even I learned to ride my bike. I'm clean baby, clean! Just because I listen to Jimi, The late Beatles, Bob, Led Zep, Incubus, Harper, Madison Greene, Rusted Root (When I can Find them on the network), Jack Johnson, and dig a lot of world music it doesn't mean I smoke. Same goes for playing the didgeridoo, have long shaggy hair, heat oil in my room, hang tapestries on my celine, Have a hammock in my room, like to wear earth tones, most pants are book cut (only because I can't bring myself to buy women's jeans for more "kick" in the bottom. Yes, I know it's flair, but I am not secure enough in my masculinity to say I want more flair in my jeans. I need to make my bellbottoms over break.), often have on a tam, bandana, or beanie, wear a hemp belt, drink a lot of coffee and tea, like ethnic art, eats hummus whenever I get the chance, dig world music (especially sitars, tablas, djembes, and didgeridoos), often wear "earthy" jewelry, and anything else that may appear stonerish.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Say not to drugs, but yes to hippies."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110280292328575155?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110280292328575155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110280292328575155' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110280292328575155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110280292328575155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/up-til-5-kids-shows.html' title='Up &apos;Til 5 &amp; Kids Shows'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110275452354788693</id><published>2004-12-11T00:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-11T00:42:03.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Because Andy G. Says I Must</title><content type='html'>First let me say "Oh, for the love of all that's good and decent why in the freakin' world did the knocking sound on my computer insist on coming back the moment I opened up this page. Andy G. you better be happy. I am tired, it's late, and I have wasted yet another day by not studying like I should have, but ooo.. boy was it fun to act like and old man (God probably will turn me into an old man three times as crazy as I was acting tonight. Crap!) and [informal] amazed me again. Plus, I won a L'Chaim shirt gambling with a dredal." (10 points to the first person to properly pronounce "L' Chaim".)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, Andy G. keeps (knock knock) yelling at me for not (knock knock) updating this page (knock knock) for like a (knock knock) week or so. Sorry Andy, but I have (knock knock) had a butt load of homework (knock knock) this last week of classes. I (knock knock) have been so busy I have not had(knock knock) enough time ot be a moron. (knock knock) Well, there was that one day (knock knock) when I was sleep deprived (knock knock) and overly hopped up on (knock knock) various forms of caffeine from the Puete (knock knock) cafe. I learned the hard way that if you drink a lot of (knock knock) coffee and tea right after waking up from a (knock knock) deep nap that you end (knock knock) up being in the same state of mind (knock knock) as a stoner. Roommate and I (knock knock) were both so sleep deprived that (knock knock) we literally appeared (knock knock) to be stoned. Not that (knock knock) I have ever been stoned, but (knock knock) you get the idea. (knock knock) However, those of you that know me (knock knock) know that I if I did smoke (knock knock) I would be able to give the same response as my (knock knock) good friend when asked if he used to (knock knock) smoke. picture this...&lt;br /&gt;(knock knock) Person 1: You smoked? (knock knock)&lt;br /&gt;person 2: *squints (knock knock) eyes in a "do you (knock knock) realize what you are asking?(knock knock) face as he waves his hand down his (knock knock) body to say "Look at me!"*&lt;br /&gt;I (knock knock) have actually been told by (knock knock) my loving bro sis that they would peg (knock knock) me for a smoker over (knock knock) him. That's saying something. (knock knock). Where am I going with this random (knock knock) rant about looking like a (knock knock) a hippie? Oh yeah it's (knock knock) 2:30 and I am only doing this to make Andy (knock knock) G. happy. now stop whining! (knock knock) Plus, this reminded me that you were lame and (knock knock) wouldn't go see Madison (knock knock) Greene with me. No friends (knock knock) for Fat Tony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fat Tony says, "Don't you feel (knock knock) special to be able to experience my (knock knock) "Knock Knock" sound that constantly comes (knock knock) out of my speakers until I turn (knock knock) off my computer?" (knock knock)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110275452354788693?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110275452354788693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110275452354788693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110275452354788693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110275452354788693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/12/because-andy-g-says-i-must.html' title='Because Andy G. Says I Must'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110188589114824895</id><published>2004-11-29T23:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-30T23:24:51.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bon Jovi</title><content type='html'>"How in the world did Bon Jovi manage to tap into the powers of both good and evil?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was talking to Beth, harassing her like always, when I suddenly broke into "Shot Through the Heart." Yes, I know, I was traumatized to. Then I began to wonder how in the sweet world did those four boys from Jersey managed to capture such great hooks and have music that is so fun to listen to. Fun that is, until you think to yourself, "Holy carp! Am I actually listening to Bon Jovi and enjoying it? What have I done? WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!" I mean seriously, there music is cheese to the max, yet so fun to rock out to. Need proof? Give "Slippery When Wet" a good spin. Then go ritually bath yourself to remove excess Cheese-Whiz and Aqua-Net that has seeped through your speakers. I think John and the boys should be punished for single handedly doing damage to the ozone layer. We spend all this time blaming big corporate companies for global warming when really it was all those kids in the 80's teasing their hair to the max so they will look oh so sexy in the video for their new cheesy ballad baby. To make matters worse the 80's are cool again, and not for mere nostalgia either. Hey, I'm as down with debating why Donatello was the best Ninja Turtle and reminiscing about twisting my G.I. Joes' legs one to many times and breaking them into pieces, but when the clothes start coming back I feel dirty. Come on man, it's not even the cool ones like hypercolor shirts. WHY WHY WHY!!! SCREAMS IN THE NIGHT!!! YEAHHH!!! (Yes, I did just deliver a wicked 80's wail - deal!!!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Jessica Warren now hates me for doggin' on her John. Crap!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110188589114824895?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110188589114824895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110188589114824895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110188589114824895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110188589114824895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/bon-jovi.html' title='Bon Jovi'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110184856401869408</id><published>2004-11-29T12:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-30T13:02:44.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I Dream That &amp; Demolition Bowl</title><content type='html'>"Hey Mike, Did I ask you something about sleeping in or did I dream that? I dreamt that? Good, because I think I remember you preceding to reach down in an attempt to choke me afterward. Plus from where my bed is I wouldn't have been able to see you from the angle I remember."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Talking to Mike in the afternoon and trying to remember if I really talked to him or dreamt it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Hmm... Demolition Bowl. That would sound cool. They really should find a way to make bowling more full contact."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was drifting off to sleep and my mind started wandering. I think the progression went something like roller rinks, bowling alleys, roller derby, demolition bowl. I do remember picturing in my mind a flaming bowling ball flying across a few lanes. I need to not think when I am trying to sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Keep it classy!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110184856401869408?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110184856401869408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110184856401869408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110184856401869408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110184856401869408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/did-i-dream-that-demolition-bowl.html' title='Did I Dream That &amp; Demolition Bowl'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110170940778223813</id><published>2004-11-27T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-28T22:23:27.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Officially Old</title><content type='html'>"Well kid's. It's official. I'm Old."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have now reached the point when girls I had crushes on while growing up are getting engaged. I could handle my first friend's wedding. I just got past the fact that my roommate and guys here are talking about the ring and the Big M. However, now the last line has been crossed. They have breached my stronghold. It's over, I am no longer young, hip, and cool. Someday off in the future I will likely join them too. My defenses are crumbling. Responsibility my way comes seeking to devour all who resist...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony Says, "responsibility? What's that?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110170940778223813?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110170940778223813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110170940778223813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110170940778223813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110170940778223813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/im-officially-old.html' title='I&apos;m Officially Old'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110124774834045329</id><published>2004-11-22T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-23T14:09:08.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Long Strange Day</title><content type='html'>"It must be a Tony statue. It's not talking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I said this to Julie while we were joking about hiding from Kevin as he was trying to catch up with us on the way to Christian Missions.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Don't go to the library to research when you are in the process of waking up from an unplanned nap."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Said to my C7 adopted brothers (C7 - my home away from my home away from home.) while I was on my way to the library half asleep. Pretty much all I did was realize I was to tired to come up with a good research topic for Bible Intro and talked to people who were in there. It's a sad time of the year when you go to the library to talk to your friends. Ok, whisper, but it still annoys the up tight Moodies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"While my day has been like a hiking up a cliff and going a bit too far."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is what I was thinking after I left the Commons on my way back from the SDR. After not really talking to "dating girl" for a month since she dropped the b/f bomb she asked me how I was doing and reminded me that we still have not gone to the coffee shop. This information once again lead to my daily mocking as "The Homewrecker" and "The Guy That Only Asks Out Girls With Boyfriends" and "The Guy That All the Taken Girls Want" and "The Iceman" and last but not least "The Student Wives Fellowship's Favorite Guy on Campus."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Are you single, because if not I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;note: Please leave you name at the end of the comments. Since they all say anonymous, I have no freakin' clue who is say what.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110124774834045329?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110124774834045329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110124774834045329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110124774834045329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110124774834045329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/long-strange-day.html' title='A Long Strange Day'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110110737021817262</id><published>2004-11-20T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-21T23:11:35.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Freakmobile</title><content type='html'>"I'm actually going home, the only downside is that I'm taking freak wheels"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yeah yeah yeah, I have found away to leave this city and go back to Norwhere for Thanksgiving. The downside is that my only real possible way to get home was to take Greyhound. Yeas, the bus; aside from circus games, stock car races, and swap meets, it is the nation's largest gathering of crazy folk. The only people who take Greyhound are people without enough money to own their own vehicle but still need to travel long distances. This only keeps two groups of people: crazy folk and college kids, often collage-aged crazy folk who were too lazy to go to college. Last time I had the pleasure of talking with a 20-something Nazi all the way from Oshkosh to Chicago. I don't agree with his views at all, but I still could talk with the dude. I think God is going to be teaching me compassion this week. Caleb and I ran into a guy severely high on what I believe was heroine tonight. We walked back and tried to help him, but he was too far gone for us to do anything. After a couple of minutes we stumbled off across the street into the dark night. He was detached from reality and we were of no means to help. Yes Don Miller, we are all mutilated and deformed like Chernoble children. (Read "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller to understand that. Read it regardless whether you care about that line or not. It will change how you read the Bible.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Yes, the Fall did deform us like Chernoble." (Wow, I'm rather introspective this evening.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh by the way, the old archived PIAM's were posted the other day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110110737021817262?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110110737021817262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110110737021817262' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110110737021817262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110110737021817262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/freakmobile.html' title='The Freakmobile'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110084495592845735</id><published>2004-11-18T21:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T22:15:55.926-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys Like Me &amp; The Complex Infrastructure of the Female Mind</title><content type='html'>"Dude, you are a guy. You don't need to fold all of your clothes as they come out of the dryer!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I though this while watching a man in the laundry room today. See, I was waiting to put my wet clothes in the dryers, and there was this dude who finally showed up to pick up his clothes. Not, instead of being a bachelor while he still can, he insisted on taking each item out one at a time and folding it perfectly - even his little washcloths. For the love of all that is good and decent in this world, be a man while you still can. This annoying little habit lead me to think of how there are two types of guys in this world, those like me and those who are not like me. Guys like me pile all their clean clothes into their hamper, drag it to their room and sometimes hang up as much as they have hanger to support. See, I know my clothes will get wrinkly and I will have to iron them later, but I am still saving time in the present and the future is only a possibility. Guys like me leave a scattered pile of paper on their floor and desk. If they are in that pile I know where to find them, if I organize them I need to remember where I organized them. It's all about practicality. I know I will one day be forced to be tamed by my wife, so I might as well live a as savage while I still can.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Guys, well we are simple. Women, it takes a full map to fallow the logic of a single question."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sara Marble is home alone tonight. She's afraid of being robbed and of a fire. Now a guy would simply say, "Hey, should I lock my bedroom door just in case, or leave it unlocked In case of a fire?" No, Sara randomly asks me, "Do you think a fireman would have a harder time getting someone out of their bedroom if the door was locked?" Nothing lead up to this, she just asked. Girls, your minds are way to complex. Simplify. Try it, you might just like it. I know we guys would.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "yawn..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110084495592845735?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110084495592845735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110084495592845735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110084495592845735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110084495592845735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/guys-like-me-complex-infrastructure-of.html' title='Guys Like Me &amp; The Complex Infrastructure of the Female Mind'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110058356587880545</id><published>2004-11-15T21:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:00:17.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Neon Signs &amp; My Selfless Offer</title><content type='html'>"They should have big neon signs above their heads that say stuff like, 'Ask me out', 'I'm not interested', 'I have a boyfriend', 'Engaged: Stay away', and stuff like that. Life would be so much easier."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I said to Rabs while talking about my dating life so far this year.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"If all else fails, I'll do you a favor and let you marry me and move down here."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I said this to Sara Marble while we were discussing her plans for next year. Hey, what can I say, I'm there for you kid. Seriously though Sara, you're a great woman.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Load it up!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.artmajeur.com/fattony"&gt;http://www.artmajeur.com/fattony&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110058356587880545?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110058356587880545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110058356587880545' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110058356587880545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110058356587880545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/neon-signs-my-selfless-offer.html' title='Neon Signs &amp; My Selfless Offer'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110055372696930447</id><published>2004-11-13T13:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:59:40.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Curfew Extentions Plea</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;"Do you think writing in the comment section that I met a young, heavily stoned, Loyd Christmas will help me get my late minutes back?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;On the way back from our late night trip to Indiana for shakes. Our waiter looked exactly like Loyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber and was definitely on a little bit of Wacky Tabbacy. To sum up the night I would have to say it was pretty fire and that all of you should load it up. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "fire!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110055372696930447?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110055372696930447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110055372696930447' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110055372696930447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110055372696930447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/curfew-extentions-plea.html' title='Curfew Extentions Plea'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110015682786434679</id><published>2004-11-09T23:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:58:41.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Want to be a Heretic</title><content type='html'>"Dave, I don't really want to be a heretic today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;After a late night of avoiding my paper we got on the topic of how Calvin's commentary was not helpful for me while writing my Gospel of John paper. As conversation went on Dave asked me whether I acknowledged the inerrancy of Jonathan Edwards...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says, "Heresy is for losers!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.artmajeur.com/fattony"&gt;http://www.artmajeur.com/fattony&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110015682786434679?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110015682786434679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110015682786434679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110015682786434679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110015682786434679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/i-dont-want-to-be-heretic.html' title='I Don&apos;t Want to be a Heretic'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110007025352917532</id><published>2004-11-08T23:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:58:08.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You All Should Be Aware of This</title><content type='html'>"Andy G, by this point in our friendship you should be fully aware of the fact that I am a moron. Nothing should be a shock to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Andy G told me to read what I typed to him since I double typed something. He agreed with my response.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony says "I pity the fool who don't respect PIAM!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110007025352917532?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110007025352917532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110007025352917532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110007025352917532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110007025352917532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/you-all-should-be-aware-of-this.html' title='You All Should Be Aware of This'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-109989465355411112</id><published>2004-11-07T21:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:57:14.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lawn Gnomes Have Feelings Too</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;"Burn, burn with the fury of 1000 lawn gnomes!!!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This was the best way I could express my disappointment to Andy G upon realizing that I will not be able to go to the Roper show on the 20th because I am too old. I can't believe that as a Froshmore I am too old to go to a concert. Yes, I did say Froshmore. I am half Freshman half sophomore. It's a long story having to due with an illogical credit outline making any sophomore who didn't transfer in credits or add classes to the recommended amount 1 credit short of being an official sophomore. Froshmores Unite!!! Two things making me angry now... It's to late for this. I need to continue climbing the mountain of books set before me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony loves you all. Yes, even you...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-109989465355411112?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/109989465355411112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=109989465355411112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109989465355411112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109989465355411112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/lawn-gnomes-have-feelings-too.html' title='Lawn Gnomes Have Feelings Too'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-109963025732061940</id><published>2004-11-04T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:56:36.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drowning in My Sleep &amp; The Immorality of Studying Morals</title><content type='html'>"Don't you hate it when you are so tired in the morning that you are afraid that you are going to fall asleep in the shower, fall over, and drown?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Said to Tommy Goodlooks while quoting movie lines back and forth between the shower stalls. I really was that freakin' tired.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Is it morally wrong to study Utilitarianism if you don't enjoy it?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I asked the Great Sara Marble this while startign to read my Philosophy homework. For those of you who are less enlighted than I am (as of 5 minutes ago) Utilitarianism is the belief that things are morally right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know there was another, but I forgot it. I'm sorry. If I remember it I will edit this and add it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony gives you two cool points for wasting your time reading this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-109963025732061940?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/109963025732061940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=109963025732061940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109963025732061940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109963025732061940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/drowning-in-my-sleep-immorality-of.html' title='Drowning in My Sleep &amp; The Immorality of Studying Morals'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-109954921687097642</id><published>2004-11-03T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:55:15.650-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pete's the Devil &amp; My Debt to Society</title><content type='html'>"I don't trust Pete. He's the devil!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Said while playing some game with Pete "The Real Deal" Neal. Earlier he was wondering if he could be the Anti-Christ. At which point I realized it's actually Pete "The Real Deval" Neal. Ok, I just realized that it doesn't quite spell &lt;em&gt;devil, &lt;/em&gt;but I'm not letting you take this away from me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I get worried when people tell me that they really like Proof I'm a Moron, because then I feel I owe it to them to say at least one moronic thing a day. I end up without hope of every being released from my moronicy. Is it odd that I feel like I am depriving people when I'm not a moron?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This was said while I was talking with Andy G on the way to the Pig to study. I should be studying now, but I'm not.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Fat Tony bids you all a merry good night. I am off to study the night away!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.artmajeur.com/fattony"&gt;www.artmajeur.com/fattony&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-109954921687097642?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/109954921687097642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=109954921687097642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109954921687097642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109954921687097642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/petes-devil-my-debt-to-society.html' title='Pete&apos;s the Devil &amp; My Debt to Society'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-109952328354770232</id><published>2004-11-03T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-03T15:08:03.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Archived "Proof I'm a Moron"'s </title><content type='html'>I accessed my old Deviant Art page today to close things up. I managed to salvage all of my old posts and will put up one gigantic archived "PIAM" pretty soon. Now all of you who realy liked those oldie but goodies will still be able to read them. Hooray!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-109952328354770232?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/109952328354770232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=109952328354770232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109952328354770232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109952328354770232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/archived-proof-im-morons.html' title='Archived &quot;Proof I&apos;m a Moron&quot;&apos;s '/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-109945960137135425</id><published>2004-11-02T21:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T12:54:14.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Election Day Thoughts</title><content type='html'>"If this election turns out to be like last time, going on for months, I will be forced to cap myself! Please, I just want a president!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Self explanatory.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;"I got paint on my favorite jeans tonight. I guess I'll still wear them though. I'll be &lt;em&gt;artsy.&lt;/em&gt; All the girls will ask if that's paint on my knee, and I will say, "Why yes it is, do you want to go make out with an artist?" Then they will be like, "Oh yeah!" -or not, because it is dark red paint and it looks like a bloody knee. In this case the girls will think I am tough, and want to make out with me. That or their maternal intsinct will find the need to comfort me and wrap their arms around me. Then I will pull out the artist card and get extra credit points."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Quoted from a conversation with Heidi tonight.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm sorry that these are not very good moronic quotes today. Usually I do much better. I am thurouly distraught by the fact that I may have to live through another "Neverending Election - Just like the Never Ending Story, only not exciting and cool!" Also I am suffering through a horrible glass of bitter hibiscus tea. I tend to really like red tea, but not this cup. No way! Add to that the fact that I am severely suffering from midsemester blah! The point in which you fell restless yes have no motivation to do anything and can only discribe how you feel as "blah..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am Fat Tony and I approve this messege! (Look how origonal I am. Okay, go ahead and hate me for using a totally worn out catch phrases, but be thankful you no longer have to hear it!) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-109945960137135425?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/109945960137135425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=109945960137135425' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109945960137135425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/109945960137135425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/11/election-day-thoughts.html' title='Election Day Thoughts'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081335185296352</id><published>2004-10-31T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:29:11.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Downward Spiral</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight Andy G and I came up with the next step in the downward spiral of my luck with women. It goes a little something like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fat Tony:&lt;/strong&gt; Hey, I was wondering if you would Like to go for coffee sometime?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Random Girl:&lt;/strong&gt; Well... I really don't like coffee a whole lot, but maybe we could still hang out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; Ok, how about we go to a football game or something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RG:&lt;/strong&gt; Umm... football games brign back bad memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; Sorry, my bad. Well, Thai food? Everyone loves Thai food! I just heard about this cool Tahi joint up the red line. Want to check it out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RG:&lt;/strong&gt; What kind of sicko are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; No Thai food I take it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RG:&lt;/strong&gt; I'm never going to talk to you again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; Was it something I said?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RG:&lt;/strong&gt; What kindof jerk are you!?! Who put you up to this!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; What are you talking about? I just thought it would be cool to hang out with you sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RG:&lt;/strong&gt; You know what I'm upset about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; No, seriously, I'm clueless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RG:&lt;/strong&gt; My brother died in a football game because he had bad Thai food and coffee before the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FT:&lt;/strong&gt; Oh I'm sorry, that really breaks my heart.RG: His heart exploded, Jerk!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is probably the next step in my downward spiral of luck with the women on campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081335185296352?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081335185296352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081335185296352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081335185296352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081335185296352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/10/my-downward-spiral.html' title='My Downward Spiral'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081320191934863</id><published>2004-10-30T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:26:41.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Think While Peeing</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid thought of the day: I wonder who invented the urinal. That guy either thought, &lt;em&gt;Hey, a normal toilet isn't quite good enough for me to pee in&lt;/em&gt;, or he was some wicked crazy male supremacist who decided he would make something that women would never be able to use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081320191934863?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081320191934863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081320191934863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081320191934863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081320191934863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/10/never-think-while-peeing.html' title='Never Think While Peeing'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081312026095048</id><published>2004-10-29T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:33:04.316-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Long Due Update</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now the self proclaimed king of no attention spa-Hey want to go ride bikes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have officially reached that point in the semester where I sit down in front of a computer and think "I should see what homework I have to do tonight." The very next thing I do is spontaneously think of something to distract me from homework. It has been 5 hours since I have gotten out of class and have yet to crack open a single book. (Part of me wants to give up on homework forever after my Philosophy midterm today. Not to self: You will never be good at Philosophizing). I study much better when I go study somewhere with people who need to study, but the average person I ask to study either is done or works better in the solitude of their room. Last night some of us Niners went to Bourgeois Pig to study. I wish I had my camera to take some antique-ish shots of things there. If you are in Chicago, and like little, old houses turned into neat, little coffee/tea houses, check it out sometime. However, do not be like all the Moodies who bring bro/sis's of eleventy-billion people there. Remember, it's a little, old house. Note to Moodies: There are many really cool coffee/tea joints in Chicago besides Starbucks and STB; Yes, even besides Argo Tea and the Pig. Just go find them. However remember this little tip... People tend to go to coffee shops to have intimate conversations, study, or just enjoy a good cup somewhere away from where they are. Don't bring everyone you know, pack out the place, and talk really loud.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do you all see what I am doing right now? I am adding a journal entry just because I don't want to read for class. I also skipped frisbee to do homework. Part of me wants to take my crappy, old skateboard out and just go ride down Wells, but I doubt I will.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hey most of you haven’t heard that I got Ebola in my room this year. Yes I named my new fish Ebola for the sole purpose of telling people, "I got Ebola in my room." It makes sense since it is a Beta, which likes to kill. That is my moronic statement of this post.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think I will have some tea. Am I just making tea to distract myself?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, I forgot to mention that I have been bitten by the long-distance relationship bug... again. A few weeks ago I asked a girl to a coffee shop up the Red Line. She wanted to go, but the timing didn't work. She said to keep asking her. Time passes and we talk about it a few times. Today I see her and she says "Let's set a date. Some weekend in November should work. It's going to be a busy month, but let's do it then. I'm going to be busy with work and my boyfriend is coming for a weekend too, but let's go some weekend." Yeah, I did quote her as mentioning boyfriend. Note to girls with long-distance relationships: Stop being so nice to us single guys. We have no clue that you have boyfriends. Also, if we ask you out on a date (no matter how casual...) please politely inform us of said boyfriend. I don't need to worry about taking out a larger life insurance program because I thought Miss Nice Girl was single and had no boyfriend to get angry and kill me because his girlfriend is too nice to say "Sorry, I have a big boyfriend and you are a wuss." &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081312026095048?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081312026095048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081312026095048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081312026095048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081312026095048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/10/long-due-update.html' title='A Long Due Update'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081287442453397</id><published>2004-08-05T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:32:16.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Niagra Falls of Stupidity</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My mouth is like the Niagra Falls of stupidity right now!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This statement was made while sitting at Taco Bell with Amanda and Sara Marble. We went there after sitting in the parking lot of Koinia for abotu an hour fallowing the Red Umbrella concert. (They were muy bien! I think it was the second thing for Canada I actually liked - the first being my sister who was born there.) Once the concert ended, I suddenly became super hyper Tony. As Sara Marble adn I sat in the truck talking to Amanda my hyperness just continued to grow. I reached teh point of zero controll. Anything that came to mind i said or did. It was scary. I sincerely appologize to you two lovely ladies for not killing me. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081287442453397?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081287442453397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081287442453397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081287442453397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081287442453397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/08/niagra-falls-of-stupidity.html' title='Niagra Falls of Stupidity'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081278041977789</id><published>2004-08-04T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:31:42.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mission Impossible</title><content type='html'>Achived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What my life needs is a recording like they had on the beginning of every Mission: Impossible episode. However, mine would be a little different to fit my situation. I think I would be something like this:Good morning, Mr. Querio. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, involves attempting to enter and maintain a dating relationship. You may select any member any member of the opposite sex, but it is well known fact you will probably try for something "out of your league." You have as long as you need to attract a female and begin your mission. *Whispered - we know you will need a while...* As always, once you do break up, the female will disavow all knowledge of you. This relationship will self-destruct in six weeks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Note: If you happen to read this and have been in a relationship with me, I am not righting this out of bitterness. I am merely mocking my own stupidity. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081278041977789?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081278041977789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081278041977789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081278041977789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081278041977789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/08/mission-impossible.html' title='Mission Impossible'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081271429068513</id><published>2004-08-03T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:31:02.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First-Aid Kit</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Woohoo! A first-aid kit! Now I can punch Mike in the head and not have to go to the lounge for bandages!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is really the first thing that came to mind when I received my first-aid kit from the safety team at work. I really am a Jerk. Mike , mu roommate, and I have the loving kind of relationship where we maintain our friendship by always telling each other to "Shut up!" and don't forget those kind words, "I hate you!" &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081271429068513?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081271429068513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081271429068513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081271429068513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081271429068513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/08/first-aid-kit.html' title='First-Aid Kit'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081261983257239</id><published>2004-08-02T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:30:30.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Tastes Like Crap &amp; 3 Months of "Not Dating"</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I wonder if crap really tastes bad? I mean, it's just the junk in the food that your body doesn't use. Nutritional food tends to taste horrible and food lacking any nutritional value tends to be great!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This was one of my first thoughts when I woke up at 4:30 for work today. I mean, come on, there is some logic to it. At least I was awake enough to realize that if I tested this theory, it would definitely be the most moronic thing I have ever done. You know you are in for a rough day when you start by thinking things like this.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You mean you had to wait 3 months to start dating? In my opinion making out kind of seals the deal."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This was a joke in response to a friend telling me that her and a mutual friend were now dating. It was not meant as a judgement of any decisions made by those involved. Yes, I'm a jerk. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081261983257239?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081261983257239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081261983257239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081261983257239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081261983257239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/08/this-tastes-like-crap-3-months-of-not.html' title='This Tastes Like Crap &amp; 3 Months of &quot;Not Dating&quot;'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081247150976225</id><published>2004-07-31T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:14:31.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wonders of Drinking</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Arn't you proud you live in a socitey that allows people to get so drunk they confuse their cleavage for a vase?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This was said to Sara Marble at the wedding. Every single person besides us was drunk. One chick thought that it would be a great idea to use her cleavage as a vase. Now that shows the power of too much alcohol. Most of the guys were digging it, I thought it was weird. What was much weirder is that she seemed to only dance with guys under the age of 10. Nothing like a really smashed chick with a flower between her breasts dancing with pre-pubescent children. We live in a wonderful world!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Disclaimer : This entire post is sarcastic, I do not support getting drunk or putting roses in such places.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081247150976225?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081247150976225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081247150976225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081247150976225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081247150976225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/07/wonders-of-drinking.html' title='The Wonders of Drinking'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081229194278338</id><published>2004-07-30T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:11:31.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pop vs. Soda vs. Coke</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do we live in a society that insists on arguing over 'pop' and 'soda?' I mean, there are people out there that just call it all 'coke!' Those are the people that define the word moron!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This one is just plain self explanatory and true. South, where the "s" is for "We Say Stupid things!" &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081229194278338?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081229194278338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081229194278338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081229194278338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081229194278338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/07/pop-vs-soda-vs-coke.html' title='Pop vs. Soda vs. Coke'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081220709106942</id><published>2004-07-29T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:10:07.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GYROFAD Mariages</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know how Profs say 'You know, some GYROFAD couples have gotten married."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I want to ask them, 'Did the girl have her friend ask the dude to marry her?'This was sent to the Dave, Mike, and Tyler Hucks in an e-mail. It will not make any sense at all if you are not a Moody. If you are a Moody it will make total sense. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081220709106942?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081220709106942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081220709106942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081220709106942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081220709106942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/07/gyrofad-mariages.html' title='GYROFAD Mariages'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081209171660990</id><published>2004-07-28T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:08:11.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Need More Sleep</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When I don't get enough sleep I become the equivalent of a three-year-old with ADD, whose mother accidently gave him her crack instead of his ridalin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This statement was made after three days of sleep depravation. The great thing is that it felt normal for me. I had spent two months sleeping way too much and was very boring. I learned that the reason I am typically so wacked out is that I typically don't get enough sleep. Now all of you who have been wondering why I am the way I am now know. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081209171660990?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081209171660990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081209171660990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081209171660990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081209171660990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/07/why-i-need-more-sleep.html' title='Why I Need More Sleep'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8985664.post-110081197298538823</id><published>2004-07-27T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T13:09:06.220-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Locked Myself Out - Twice</title><content type='html'>Archived PIAM:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing starts off a day of work quite like breaking into your own home - twice!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This was thought to myself after accidently locking myself out of my house when I was home alone. It took my 20 minutes to break in. Once I got in, I somehow locked myself out again. This was all while I was rushing to get ready for a 5:00 safety meeting at work. Ironically, everything I did to break in was far from safe. I had to climb a ladder that was too short and resting on slanted, soft ground. Then i had to squeeze through a window while on the top rung of the ladder. then climbed through head first positing myself upside-down on the bathroom counter. I almost slipped and fell head first onto the toilet, knocking myself unconscious alone on the bathroom floor. That would have been great! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8985664-110081197298538823?l=proofimamoron.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/feeds/110081197298538823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8985664&amp;postID=110081197298538823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081197298538823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8985664/posts/default/110081197298538823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://proofimamoron.blogspot.com/2004/07/i-locked-myself-out-twice.html' title='I Locked Myself Out - Twice'/><author><name>Fat Tony</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08115588538967915283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
