<?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-682619707641036769</id><updated>2012-01-15T02:13:51.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>brian5or6</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-682619707641036769.post-5866630565048162940</id><published>2011-10-09T08:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T08:56:36.265-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Thanksgiving!!</title><content type='html'>Thanksgiving is a great time of year. Good food and good company. That's in most households, not mine. Here are some vomit inducing examples:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Uncle Ned somehow managed to swallow the turkey wishbone. That wishbone got lodged into his throat and he began choking uncontrollably at the table. Dad tried to step in to help but he only made it worse. All that pressure inside the throat allowed the bone to pierce through which in turn splattered blood all over Aunt Cheryl's face. She looked like that girl Carrie from the movie Carrie. Ned lived, but for some reason he talks like a robot now and when he smokes, it comes out his throat. Very unnerving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) There was the time the rabid raccoon decided to join us for dinner. Out of no where this little guy jumps on the table drooling up a storm and making funny growling noises. He grabbed the potatoes and went to town on them, and then without warning, he attacked Grandpa Roger, I think without remorse. That was the second time Dad had to shoot his gun that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) And the worst Thanksgiving ever was when Granny brought the dirtiest, most foulest hobo from downtown you've ever seen/smell home for dinner. Granny always had a spot in her heart for those in need and this was the best time of the year to lend a hand and a warm meal. But this little bastard wasn't interested in eating. As soon as he walked in the door he proceeded to take off his pants and have a poop on the living room carpet. Then he yelled " GOOD TUNE MAN" as Rod Stewart was playing. That's when he started dancing....naked. He grabbed Grannies lipstick and started rubbing it all over his face and he kept repeating " NANCY!! WHERE ARE YOU?" over and over again. All the kids were crying due to the paralyzing fear of this situation. Happy Thanksgiving Granny.....whatever&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-5866630565048162940?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/5866630565048162940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=5866630565048162940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5866630565048162940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5866630565048162940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/10/happy-thanksgiving.html' title='Happy Thanksgiving!!'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-6450526667714883524</id><published>2011-08-20T07:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T11:28:26.225-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Horrific Accidents</title><content type='html'>I am always a little nervous on the bus because the drivers just don't care about speed. This one incident didn't involve speed however, but was just as vicious. You know the middle part of the bus? Well I guess that material isn't very strong. It started making a funny noise, it kinda sounded like a million people all screaming at once. Everyone was looking at each other concerned, when all of a sudden, it ripped apart. The 4 people sitting in those middle seats were gone in seconds, unheard from again. The front of the bus kept on going, but the back of the bus went on a journey to hell. The sparks burnt the first 4 rows of people to a crisp, and the rest of us had to jump out the back onto oncoming traffic. Some people made it....and some didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time Granny brought us sledding. We thought it was weird when she woke us up in the middle of the night to do it, but what ever, we were kids. Of course, Granny was on her usual Scotch and Gin at the time, so we weren't surprised to see Granny go down on the the GT Snow Racer backwards. She yelled "Watch and learn you pussies", but that is the last thing she yelled that night. She had to be going at least 80mph when she hit a rut, and she completely rag-dolled. It took them 4 hours to dig her out and they had to amputate the leg that night. Oh Granny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was a carpenter. One summer he decided to fix the roof of our house. So, he bolted the ladder onto the deck so that he could go up and down many times during the day. Well, me and my brother would always get up there and a few times we almost fell off. So, like any good dad, he took the bolts out. Well one day he was up there and it started to rain. He quickly ran to the ladder to get down. My mom was inside on the phone and happened to glance out the window just in time to see my dad go down. He took out the whole deck with his body. I ran out and yelled "DAD??" and all he said was "Just get me my fucking smokes". HE funny :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I made all of this up, and its really just the script to Final Destination part 14....or is it? HAPPY HALLOWEEN.....wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-6450526667714883524?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/6450526667714883524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=6450526667714883524' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6450526667714883524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6450526667714883524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/08/horrific-accidents.html' title='Horrific Accidents'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-7148424678911127103</id><published>2011-08-13T09:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T10:12:03.172-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Reasons My Dog Attacks Me</title><content type='html'>5- For fun, I walk up behind him, and I scare the living shit out of him. Out of being scared, I guess he tries to protect himself because he just goes to town on me. Bites, scratches, you name it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4- When he's eating, I yell " HEY WHISKERS, LOOK OVER THERE", and as he looks I start eating his food. He gives me this look like he's saying "Thanks, i've been waiting a long time for this", and he just goes to town on me. That's the time I lost my big toe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3- The time he had rabies, he attacked me for no reason whatsoever, so i'm not sure what that was about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2- When I called his friend "Little Shit Head", he defended his honor by giving me the beating of a life time. That is the time he dragged me into a field and actually tried to bury me. Scary stuff&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- Granny used to train Whiskers to fetch her a beer from the fridge. But when there were no beers left, because Granny lost track, she lost it. She yelled "KILL", which I guess was a command to the dog, because I was badly injured that day. It took a fire hose to finally get Whiskers off me, and Granny locked her self in her room for a week, probably out of shame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-7148424678911127103?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/7148424678911127103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=7148424678911127103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/7148424678911127103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/7148424678911127103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/08/reasons-my-dog-attacks-me.html' title='Reasons My Dog Attacks Me'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-4047327213668747801</id><published>2011-08-07T15:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T15:38:17.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Second Day of School</title><content type='html'>So, as previously stated, my FIRST day of school wasn't great. But if you thought that was bad, read THIS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second day of school got off on the wrong foot...literally. When I stepped out of bed, I pushed off with my left foot instead of the usual right. This threw my balance off and I started stumbling. I went right out the second story window and landed on my head. I was diagnosed with a GRADE 3 SECOND/34TH SPINE FRACTURE, or something like that. It was a horrific scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well...that's pretty much it, you don't really go to school after an incident like that. At least I got to watch Uncle Buck in the hospital room, so that was kinda cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-4047327213668747801?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/4047327213668747801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=4047327213668747801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4047327213668747801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4047327213668747801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-second-day-of-school.html' title='My Second Day of School'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-5906675822209104881</id><published>2011-08-04T19:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T19:46:31.152-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Worst Jobs...EVER</title><content type='html'>1) Pulling on my dad's finger when he needs to release gas. A fart essentially. I took it seriously, but everyone would laugh when he did it. Also, when I didn't get paid after 2 weeks of torture, I put plastic wrap over the toilet seat. And then I pulled his finger again. No one laughed after that. I was fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Being Mike Tyson's sparing partner. I lasted one punch. The left side of my face was caved in and I was eating through a straw for about a year. Worst part of it was...it wasn't even Mike Tyson. I was lying. It was a horse named Horace who kicked my head in after my parents neglected watching me. Or at least that's what child services said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Cleaning Granny's dentures. It was sick, like I mean vomit sick. One day I put hot sauce on them because Granny was pissing me off. She didn't even react. I think because she was drunk. When she gave me only one quarter, I gave her the finger, and I quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Working at Hortons. My very first shift, I badly burned a client with a fresh pot of coffee and I got caught eating the left over honey crullers in front of customers. I didn't care anyways because they were pricks. Who throws out donuts anyways??? I was fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Sucking farts out of bus seats? Okay, even at the time I thought it was sketchy. I should have known Adam, my hockey teammate, wasn't a real employer. Hind sight is 20/20 my friends. I barely sucked any out anyways. I was just playing along...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-5906675822209104881?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/5906675822209104881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=5906675822209104881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5906675822209104881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5906675822209104881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-worst-jobsever.html' title='My Worst Jobs...EVER'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-9177069186270473568</id><published>2011-08-01T19:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T19:35:27.117-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I'll Never Go Camping Again</title><content type='html'>5) When I was sitting in a fold out chair by the campfire, my leg fell asleep and made it's way to said fire. It took me 5 minutes to realize I could see bone. Talk about well-done (i'm being sarcastic, I was actually badly burned and was told i'll never properly walk again. So, pretty serious stuff).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Of course, mom and dad picked a camp site on a hill, so guess what happened next? That's right, clumsy old me tripped and rolled violently to the bottom. My parents were sleeping, so I was down there for a good two days till they found me. I think every mosquito in existence had a bite. I was quite ripe by the time I went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Getting attacked by Jason Vorhees was the single most terrifying moment of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Uncle Charles got drunk and decided to play with some illegal fireworks. I'm talking hand grenades. By the end, half the campsite was charred and Granny was missing. Man, those things are LOUD. Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) After dad took a number 2 in a "OUTHOUSE", he didn't even flush and I was overcome by the smell and the amount he pooped. It was a massive pile. I couldn't fucking believe it. He must have had some tummy ache before....since he clearly had about 50 pounds of shit in him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For these reasons, and these reasons alone, i'll never camp again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-9177069186270473568?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/9177069186270473568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=9177069186270473568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/9177069186270473568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/9177069186270473568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-ill-never-go-camping-again.html' title='Why I&apos;ll Never Go Camping Again'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-2620265550782658129</id><published>2011-07-27T16:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T16:32:43.871-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Are Strange</title><content type='html'>5) Granny chewing on a pepperoni stick even though she has no teeth. She just waits till it gets soggy and then just swallows it. Why do old people lose their teeth? I bet it was when she smoked her face off of our granite counters after falling from the chair trying to hide her water bottle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) My dad having a girlfriend and a wife. It's weird because my mom isn't allowed to know because my dad says she would get mad that it is her sister. But it's family, very mystery to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) After my brother dared me to drink something called GIN, I woke up the next morning with no memory of the night before. Get this, I woke up in a barn in America, which is at least 20,000 km away. I must have hit my head because it was sore. Oh yeah, and maybe that carpenter nail sticking out of it made it sore as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) My dog Melvin went to doggy camp forever because all he did was jump on the mailman when he approached. I guess maybe its because he dragged his severed arm back into the house, but why would my parents send him to a fun camp if he was bad? Still beats me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) For some reason no one was laughing after I found a grass snake and for jokes put it in the toilet. I guess they weren't laughing because Grandpa Roger had a massive heart attack when he was taking a dump. Still, give me a break, laugh a little.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-2620265550782658129?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/2620265550782658129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=2620265550782658129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/2620265550782658129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/2620265550782658129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/things-that-are-strange.html' title='Things That Are Strange'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-7391096955912895181</id><published>2011-07-25T18:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T18:40:20.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Hockey Game</title><content type='html'>I showed up early at 10:00am and promptly got told to leave. I came back at 5:30 and I was in AWE. First thing was the massive set of stairs on both sides of the arena. My perfect night started to go badly right then and there. As I was walking up, I heard " I CAN'T HOLD ON!", and then a 90 year old man rolling down like a rag doll. I didn't see what happened after that because a bed sheet was quickly placed over him. I hope he was okay. Next, I went to go buy a pint and a slice of pizza. As I was approaching the stand, a man was heard saying, "SORRY FOLKS, PIZZA IS SOLD OUT". Are you kidding me? So I went to get a beer, and guess what? It was warm!! I poured it out right in front of the prick that served it yelling "HERE'S YOUR TIP ASSHOLE". I was finally ready to find my seat. I was so excited because Robbie Smith was my favourite player growing up. Take a guess what happened next?? "SCRATCHED FROM TONIGHT'S GAME: ROBBIE SMITH" I fucking lost it. I slapped the first man I saw because I didn't care. I guess that man was the wrong guy to mess with because the next thing I remember, I was waking up in the emergency room with two swollen eyes. Still quite the experience though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-7391096955912895181?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/7391096955912895181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=7391096955912895181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/7391096955912895181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/7391096955912895181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-first-senators-game.html' title='My First Hockey Game'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-6432618450596374804</id><published>2011-07-23T10:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T10:44:54.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Really Gross Me Out</title><content type='html'>1) The smell coming out of dad's bathroom after he reads a whole magazine in there. Like does he really need to read the whole thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Watching my 10 year old brother get viciously attacked by an angry rattle snake in the back yard while I stand there helpless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) When Granny cuts a fart after plowing through a plate of cheese fries. Tastes like metal in my mouth for a day after. Like seriously&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) My sister's face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) My uncles legs after he got rolled under a van last spring. They are still sickly looking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) My first paycheck from Hortons. I couldn't even afford to buy a car when I got it, like give me a break. (update * I told Gordo my manager to cook his own damn coffee and I quit, I had enough)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) For some reason, after my Principal Susie Mack checked my hair for lice at school, she started dry coughing and then puked in her desk drawer. Like ewww&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) My friend Steve's nose hair. I actually watched it start curling it was so long. What made it worse was when he was dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) I once ate rotted pizza. The thing is I knew it was rotted. But you can't fault a man for wanting a slice now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) My first kiss. Not what you think. I tripped and fell face first into Reggie's, my dog, asshole. YUCK&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-6432618450596374804?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/6432618450596374804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=6432618450596374804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6432618450596374804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6432618450596374804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/things-that-really-gross-me-out.html' title='Things That Really Gross Me Out'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-2315837738039985218</id><published>2011-07-22T19:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T19:25:28.781-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>My first day of school was full of unusual events. The first thing was getting on the bus, which didn't happen. When the bus pulled up, Gino , the bus driver opened the door and proceeded to swig his beer in front of my mom. She grabbed me as I was getting on, but Gino yelled "FUCK THIS" and sped off, only my leg got caught in the door and I was dragged violently for 400 yards. Next thing I know i'm waking up attached to a robot feeding me liquids. My legs were shattered into 40 individual pieces. My ears were sowed back onto the back of my head. My hands were hanging my skin threads. My rib cage was literally exposed. To say the least, first day of high school didn't go quite as planned. 4 years later, I recovered enough to finally go for my first day...again. Only this time Gino was steaming drunk and he completely lost control of his bus and rolled off an 80 foot bridge. Luckily I hadn't been picked up yet, so I walked and got written up for being late. Talk about bad luck. I was able to laugh about it later though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-2315837738039985218?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/2315837738039985218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=2315837738039985218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/2315837738039985218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/2315837738039985218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-6611911444043666002</id><published>2011-07-21T21:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T21:24:37.064-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How You Know Your House Is Haunted</title><content type='html'>1) Your aunt Edna reads you bed time stories, only thing is Edna's been dead for 5 years&lt;br /&gt;2) You wake up on the toilet even though you swear you were in bed? I don't know&lt;br /&gt;3) Your brother is being an asshole for no known reason, something must be up?&lt;br /&gt;4) You see a floater in the bathtub, must be like a ghost. How does it float? Supernatural?&lt;br /&gt;5) Your stash of Half moons is always missing. Worst part is the ghost replaces it with Joe Louis cakes. Super scary&lt;br /&gt;6) tHe Senators always lose on Saturday nights. Must be the work of the devil? I wish I knew&lt;br /&gt;7) When I laugh really hard and also drinking milk at the same time, it ALWAYS comes out my nose? Really?? Not normal&lt;br /&gt;8) I can't have a nap without someone tapping on my window. Or someTHING? Still, it might only be my neighbor Charvis whose a complete a-hole. He doesn't even mow our grass when he's doing his. Talk about lame&lt;br /&gt;9) I see a severed head in the basement that blinks at me&lt;br /&gt;10) Granny drank a quart of gin and went missing for 2 days. Was she abducted? Maybe drunk and passed out under the stairs. We still don't know&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-6611911444043666002?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/6611911444043666002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=6611911444043666002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6611911444043666002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6611911444043666002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-you-know-your-house-is-haunted.html' title='How You Know Your House Is Haunted'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-5454657782977171466</id><published>2011-07-19T18:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T18:26:16.512-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 5 Summer Fights</title><content type='html'>5- Me vs my brother: He ate the last pop tart and didn't even ask mom, so I called him on it and put the boots to him. Winner- My brother, he suckered me into the back yard and put the hose around my neck making me sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4- Me vs my sister: She got mad because I took off all the heads of her Barbies, and she called me on it and put the boots to me. Winner- No one. We both lost because mom didn't give us dinner, which was Zoodles, my favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3- Me vs an old dirty picture of Uncle Ron: Last time I was there he turned the tv off on me at midnight. So I said " My dad told me you were a mistake", and he sent me home. So I took his framed picture and put it in safekeeping where no one can see his mug. Winner: Uncle Ron, because I still didn't get to watch Bleu Nuit, which is my favorite nude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2- Me vs Debbie Dibs: He was on my hockey team and he left a human poo in my skate for a joke, but I wasn't a joke to me. I took a knife to his throat and told him to quit it. Winner: Debbie, he started crying and got me kicked off the team. For what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- Me vs Granny: One dinner she made me only one grilled cheese, even though I asked for two. So I pushed her down a flight of stairs. She actually got up and we fist fighted for an hour straight. Winner: Granny, she put me through a wall and I was put on life support for 10 weeks. How could a sweet old lady do this? thats what the cops asked, so she took off running&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe its the summer heat?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-5454657782977171466?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/5454657782977171466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=5454657782977171466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5454657782977171466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5454657782977171466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/top-5-summer-fights.html' title='Top 5 Summer Fights'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-5607784802322773258</id><published>2011-07-15T19:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T19:37:59.408-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that are strange</title><content type='html'>1) RC COLA- what does RC stand for? Retarded coke&lt;br /&gt;2) MY FEET SMELL- enough to make a billy goat puke, my socks are like cake after I take them off&lt;br /&gt;3) MY DAD ALWAYS POOPING- like come on!&lt;br /&gt;4) ME BEING CROSS-EYED- my dad says because I was charged by a monkey at the zoo when I was 4 and got tossed around&lt;br /&gt;5) CHEMICALS- I drank a lot of stuff I found in the bathroom called bleach and was in the doctors for 6 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is it just me?? or are these things really strange&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-5607784802322773258?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/5607784802322773258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=5607784802322773258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5607784802322773258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5607784802322773258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/things-you-hear-in-my-house.html' title='Things that are strange'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-4128502267298782025</id><published>2011-07-15T19:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T19:27:16.922-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama Thoughts</title><content type='html'>Have you ever looked into the eye of a homeless man? He tells you a story without saying a word. I found out Reggie, the dude who lives in the neighborhood dumpster, fought in the civil war. That's right, 1845 civil war. This guy is 85 years old. When I told him "It's okay, I understand", he grabbed me by the throat and said "That's my sandwich!" My mom tells me he's hungry all the time and to not take his food. So, being curious, I offered him a box of Jos Louis. He said "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY, THOSE THINGS ARE THE WORST" Even a hobo man hates Jos Louis. SO then I offer him a Half Moon. He now runs one of the most successful high-tech companies and was voted "Youngest Business Man of the Year" award. Go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-4128502267298782025?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/4128502267298782025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=4128502267298782025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4128502267298782025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4128502267298782025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/drama-thoughts_15.html' title='Drama Thoughts'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-4059157966510108716</id><published>2011-07-13T19:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T19:56:45.778-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Greeting Card</title><content type='html'>My love for you can be compared to the wind blowing. So beautiful and graceful. It only sucks when its a tornado and then love turns into pure panic. But that rarely happens. Love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-4059157966510108716?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/4059157966510108716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=4059157966510108716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4059157966510108716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4059157966510108716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/greeting-card_3827.html' title='Greeting Card'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-595020117182202674</id><published>2011-07-13T19:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T19:54:31.975-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Greeting Card</title><content type='html'>Hope you get better soon Granny!! I still can't believe you shattered every bone in your hip by falling over the table, probably drunk. Love Brian&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-595020117182202674?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/595020117182202674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=595020117182202674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/595020117182202674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/595020117182202674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/greeting-card_2402.html' title='Greeting Card'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-8467870799016680973</id><published>2011-07-13T19:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T19:50:50.518-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Greeting Card</title><content type='html'>Congrats on 50 years of living. The only thing about getting old that sucks, is that you really start smelling. We still love you though uncle Ron&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-8467870799016680973?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/8467870799016680973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=8467870799016680973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/8467870799016680973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/8467870799016680973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/greeting-card_13.html' title='Greeting Card'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-5687921729610551582</id><published>2011-07-13T19:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T19:48:22.555-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Greeting Card</title><content type='html'>If and when you get into a horrific car accident, I will call the ambulance for you, and even talk to you until the paramedics arrive. That is how much I enjoy your company. (Disclaimer: I will puke on the sight of blood, and I will leave)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-5687921729610551582?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/5687921729610551582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=5687921729610551582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5687921729610551582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5687921729610551582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/greeting-card.html' title='Greeting Card'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-1895002334436455925</id><published>2011-07-12T18:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T19:41:05.274-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 Summer Foods</title><content type='html'>10. Grill ems: The only part I hate is when it blows up and burns you half to death&lt;br /&gt;9. Straight Gin- When you want to get LICKED&lt;br /&gt;8. Lettuce Heads- Sometimes there is dirt in them so I wash them with soap&lt;br /&gt;7. Gummy Worms- If you don't think so, then i'll fight you&lt;br /&gt;6. Mustard- I once had mustard on my shirt for 4 years, little yellow bastards&lt;br /&gt;5. Snickers- My mom hides these cause I once ate a whole box in one sitting and shit my pants...&lt;br /&gt;4. Oh Henry- So much butter in these bad boys. My brother eats these more then me, he's fat&lt;br /&gt;3. Half Moons- Like I would leave this off the list. Beckers can't keep these in stock. The manager called me an asshole&lt;br /&gt;2. Hot Hamburgs-Slide these into your gut&lt;br /&gt;1. Licorice??? I LIKE CANDY SO WHAT? YOU DONT KNOW ME&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-1895002334436455925?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/1895002334436455925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=1895002334436455925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/1895002334436455925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/1895002334436455925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/top-10-summer-foods.html' title='Top 10 Summer Foods'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-8141064375444037401</id><published>2011-07-10T10:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-10T10:12:31.338-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama Thoughts</title><content type='html'>What would be a world without RUM? Many angry people would flip over cars with their bare hands cause they loved rum so much. Men would punch each other in the faces, and many cops would be called by concerned on-lookers to break up the fights. People would resort to drinking vodka instead, and Russia would not be able to handle the demand. I don't want to live in such a world. I hope RUM never runs out. Also, Coke would have a shit. PEACE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-8141064375444037401?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/8141064375444037401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=8141064375444037401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/8141064375444037401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/8141064375444037401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/drama-thoughts.html' title='Drama Thoughts'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-6224384737912131289</id><published>2011-07-09T16:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T16:33:58.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Debbie's first fight</title><content type='html'>Diblits woke up already in a bad mood. He even said "Fuck you sister" to his sister. When he got to his hockey game he took Ronalds, his teammate, by the collar and punched his stomach. THIS WAS FOR NO REASON. Fucking Ronalds was pissing blood cause of the blow, and Debbie said "Lets play some fucking hockey". Not one player stepped on the ice in protest of Debbie's actions. Debbie was demoralized. THE END&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-6224384737912131289?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/6224384737912131289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=6224384737912131289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6224384737912131289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6224384737912131289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2011/07/debbies-first-fight.html' title='Debbie&apos;s first fight'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-660444772856367043</id><published>2010-11-06T21:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T22:03:11.398-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My thoughts on Hockey</title><content type='html'>1) Why does my mom turn off the game at 8 pm? Is there still a game on after? Who knows&lt;br /&gt;2) When stick on the puck, why do the player wink at the players? Strange mystery&lt;br /&gt;3) Pot belly? Not hockey players&lt;br /&gt;4) When I was a little man, I played hockey and guess what? I told the coach to FUCK OFF.&lt;br /&gt;5) The record for JoS lOUISE CONSuption is one, cause they suck compared to HALF MOONS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-660444772856367043?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/660444772856367043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=660444772856367043' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/660444772856367043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/660444772856367043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-thoughts-on-hockey.html' title='My thoughts on Hockey'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-2690513223558724770</id><published>2009-08-22T09:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T09:42:12.623-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Different flavours of farts</title><content type='html'>1) Ketchup and mustard: the best smelling fart, it reminds me of camping&lt;br /&gt;2) Pizza and Wings: sometimes we get lucky and our movements smell like this&lt;br /&gt;3) Pure Shit: feels comfortable, like home&lt;br /&gt;4) Cotten Candy: just kidding, its impossible&lt;br /&gt;5) Straight vodka: when really drunk and shit through the eye of a needle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listen, this is just my opinion&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-2690513223558724770?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/2690513223558724770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=2690513223558724770' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/2690513223558724770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/2690513223558724770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2009/08/different-flavours-of-farts.html' title='Different flavours of farts'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-4222908765022411015</id><published>2009-08-18T18:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T18:54:49.472-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hockey Funs-Debbie at it again</title><content type='html'>No one can stick handle like Debbie. Prove it. This one day he told everybody to shut their traps and to watch and learn. Debbie picked up the puck and said "Who needs this?" and threw it into the stands. Debbie wanted to impress everyone by stick handling a basketball. But no one was watching Debbie show off...they were all looking over the boards. Debbie had thrown the puck clean through the teams trainer's face. Literally players were puking on the ice and crying. Coach Mahoney began choking on the Half Moon he was eating.  What happened next will continue to haunt the dreams of Diblits at night....to be continued&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-4222908765022411015?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/4222908765022411015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=4222908765022411015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4222908765022411015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4222908765022411015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2009/08/hockey-funs-debbie-at-it-again.html' title='Hockey Funs-Debbie at it again'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-4159466711730188911</id><published>2009-08-17T17:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T17:47:40.532-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Debbie Dibbs- Horseback riding...for the first time</title><content type='html'>Fire burned everything...no one was alive, only pools of blood remained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 Minutes earlier: Debbie decided to try riding a horse. He didn't even pay or get lessons, he ran straight for Horace, the blind horse. "Listen here you cock tease, my way or the.....ARRFH" Horace did not give a shit and he planted Debbie with a devastating round house. Debbie was incinerated instantly, all that remained was his shadow. But then he woke up, it was all a dream...or was it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-4159466711730188911?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/4159466711730188911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=4159466711730188911' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4159466711730188911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/4159466711730188911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2009/08/debbie-dibbs-horseback-ridingfor-first.html' title='Debbie Dibbs- Horseback riding...for the first time'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-367611480198056800</id><published>2009-08-14T07:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T07:58:32.437-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rookie Camp-Debbie Diblits</title><content type='html'>Debbie arrived 3 hours late for his first practice. As the other guys were leaving the ice, Debbie stepped on the ice and said "Eat shit Mahoney", who is the coach. The biggest brawl known to mankind happened next. After an amazing beating at the hands of Mahoney, Debbie stumbled into the locker room. "Good game dudes" was all he said. From there it got ugly. Some a-hole jumped kicked Debbie in his face leaving his right ear paralyzed for life. Boys will be boys I guess. They all quickly made up and did a perfect rendition of the Thriller dance together. Holy ape fuck, Debbie is a wild guy.  RIP Michael Jackson and eat shit Mahoney.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-367611480198056800?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/367611480198056800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=367611480198056800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/367611480198056800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/367611480198056800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2009/08/rookie-camp-debbie-diblits.html' title='Rookie Camp-Debbie Diblits'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-3477664909995303203</id><published>2008-12-10T17:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:48:18.610-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Debbie Diblits-The Adventure Continues...</title><content type='html'>This story is about the day Debbie took a dumb in the school court yard. It all started when his classmate Greg dared Diblits to eat 40 hot dogs in one sitting. Debbie never backs down from a challenge. Anyhoo, Debbie gave the best effort he could and ate 27 hot dogs. That is the exact moment Diblits lost control of all his bodily functions. He tried to ask Greg for help, but all that came out of his mouth was mustard. Debbie stood up, put his arms together and started to dance by throwing his legs out into the air singing "HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY". You see, something in his brain snapped. He went right up to Sally Jones and said straight up "You're a fucking asshole Ms. Sally Jones" Thats when the rest of the students heard it, the most god awful sound. The sound of shit. Debbie stumbled out the doors into the court yard. "Help meeeeeeeeeeee". He pinched one single loaf directly on the picnic table and then he called it a day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-3477664909995303203?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/3477664909995303203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=3477664909995303203' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/3477664909995303203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/3477664909995303203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2008/12/little-debbie-diblits-adventure.html' title='Little Debbie Diblits-The Adventure Continues...'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-5124168645253453340</id><published>2008-12-08T16:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T17:04:24.482-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Accidental Creations: Eggnog</title><content type='html'>As a sipped on a mug of delicious eggnog, I began to wonder how the hell humans could create this. This ancient story of how eggnog came to be has been passed down from generations to generations becoming a LEGEND. It all started in 1995. A man named Ted Jenkins was drinking his milk before he ate breakfast. Ted's next actions would be his last...for some fucked up reason, Ted thought it would be a delight to add nutmeg to his scrambled eggs. Ted climbed onto the stove to fetch the nutmeg. All of a sudden, Ted cut the most massive fart in the history of mankind. The gas spread to the open flame cause a violent explosion. Ted was incinerated into a fine powder. However, the ingredients from his breakfast combined neatly into a test tube, thus creating the fantastic beverage known as eggnog. Add a little rum and you got yourself a party.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-5124168645253453340?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/5124168645253453340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=5124168645253453340' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5124168645253453340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/5124168645253453340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2008/12/accidental-creations-eggnog.html' title='Accidental Creations: Eggnog'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-682619707641036769.post-3577362916555032306</id><published>2008-12-04T19:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T19:45:08.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brian5or6:The Return</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ulucv1r1AOg/STh5kPiitjI/AAAAAAAAABE/wzpCopg-ZbE/s1600-h/ghostbusters_logo.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 265px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ulucv1r1AOg/STh5kPiitjI/AAAAAAAAABE/wzpCopg-ZbE/s320/ghostbusters_logo.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276100627018200626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ulucv1r1AOg/STh3v7vp6BI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Pp_76n6sZMk/s1600-h/bear.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 1px; height: 1px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ulucv1r1AOg/STh3v7vp6BI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Pp_76n6sZMk/s320/bear.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276098628839663634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's official, i'm back on the air! Where have I been for so long? WELL WHERE DO I BEGIN!?! In July, I hitchhiked to Atlanta to try out for the Thrashers. After about 3 months, I finally got there. As soon as I entered, this strange silence fell over me...no one was around. And then I heard the sound of drums, it started getting so loud I SCREAMED. Then what happened next was so sickening it would make the brains come out the back of your skull....Over the horizon, I saw a dark shadow coming towards me. As it got closer I realized it was a pack of wild dogs and they were starving. All I saw was teeth and the sound of death. When I woke up I no longer had a human face. Still, I didn't let those ASSHOLE DOGS.....ruin my dream of playing in the NHL. Heres where the story gets fucked! Turns out I wasn't even in Atlanta. I hadn't even left home yet. The moral of the story is...I'm back. I love you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-3577362916555032306?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/3577362916555032306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=3577362916555032306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/3577362916555032306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/3577362916555032306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2008/12/brian5or6the-return.html' title='Brian5or6:The Return'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ulucv1r1AOg/STh5kPiitjI/AAAAAAAAABE/wzpCopg-ZbE/s72-c/ghostbusters_logo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-682619707641036769.post-8810893380183281273</id><published>2008-06-21T12:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T13:02:08.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Debbie Diblits- My experience at the NHL draft</title><content type='html'>Where do I start?? I saw a man, whose eyes pierced my heart. He was a hockey player named Debbie Diblits. He did not get picked, and you know what he did? He took a dump on the podium, in front of other kids. Shameless son of a bitch...He  then stripped to nothing except his t-shirt, and began to moonwalk across the stage. But that is the tame part, what he did next will be talked about for generations upon generations. People will be saying "That one single event changed the face of hockey and life forever". Once Debbie had finished his moonwalk, he sat down, and to everyones surprise...HE GOT DRAFTED!! Also, the draft provided awesome snacks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-8810893380183281273?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/8810893380183281273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=8810893380183281273' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/8810893380183281273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/8810893380183281273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2008/06/little-debbie-diblits-my-experience-at.html' title='Little Debbie Diblits- My experience at the NHL draft'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-9112600717302055268</id><published>2008-04-16T22:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T22:25:35.872-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama Thoughts</title><content type='html'>If my ceiling were to collapse, my life would take a drastic turn for the worse. Think about it, everything would be crushed or covered in dust. If it were to land on my legs, chances are , they would have to be surgically removed for life. But what if they gave me robot legs. I would be a cyborg and I would then get recruited by the CIA to track down crazy people. The reason they would chose me is because my computer legs can run faster than them, thus allowing me to catch them. I love future. But what if my legs eventually turned on me. They would detach themselves, throw me in a ditch, and then would launch every nuke in the world and blow it to dust...ROOF COLLAPSE DUST...OH SWEET LOVE...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-9112600717302055268?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/9112600717302055268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=9112600717302055268' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/9112600717302055268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/9112600717302055268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2008/04/drama-thoughts_16.html' title='Drama Thoughts'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-6620934661832075559</id><published>2008-04-11T08:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T08:43:55.213-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama Thoughts</title><content type='html'>We all know water is white...when it is in a glass. Water is blue, when it is in a ocean. But, ocean water turns black at night. Also, water is also blue when it is in the form of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Gatoraid&lt;/span&gt; Wild Berry...which is delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone knows hot dogs are made from cows and/or pigs. But is Kraft Dinner made from real cheese?? Fake cheese is the deadliest of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last, but not least. Are reading poems good for your brain?? YES, because they sometimes sound nice, which makes me happy for hours..or even weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Brian&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-6620934661832075559?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/6620934661832075559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=6620934661832075559' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6620934661832075559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6620934661832075559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2008/04/drama-thoughts.html' title='Drama Thoughts'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-3634318743070929023</id><published>2007-11-26T19:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T19:59:13.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Snake and the Bird</title><content type='html'>Cutting a rope, reading Soaps Weekly, minding my business, sitting on the can . To my surprise, a snake bit my bird...it HAPPENED. We are buddies now...birds never been the same though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-3634318743070929023?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/3634318743070929023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=3634318743070929023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/3634318743070929023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/3634318743070929023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2007/11/snake-and-bird.html' title='The Snake and the Bird'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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-682619707641036769.post-6406003791982986771</id><published>2007-11-26T19:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T19:52:37.774-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Greeting Card 1- Ocean Embrace</title><content type='html'>If my love were the ocean, only you would be invited to swim...or maybe even fish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/682619707641036769-6406003791982986771?l=brian5or6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/feeds/6406003791982986771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=682619707641036769&amp;postID=6406003791982986771' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6406003791982986771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/682619707641036769/posts/default/6406003791982986771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brian5or6.blogspot.com/2007/11/greeting-card-1-ocean-embrace.html' title='Greeting Card 1- Ocean Embrace'/><author><name>Brian5or6</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15381459163091710984</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></feed>
