<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088</id><updated>2009-11-13T18:41:32.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flamingo Jones</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>254</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-5455227412957007564</id><published>2007-01-11T20:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T20:52:41.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If I still blogged....</title><content type='html'>I'd blog &lt;a href="http://www.cincinnatibeacon.com/index.php/content/comments/political_exchange_of_the_year_bill_oreilly_vs_the_coolest_8_year_old_girl/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-5455227412957007564?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/5455227412957007564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=5455227412957007564' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/5455227412957007564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/5455227412957007564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2007/01/if-i-still-blogged.html' title='If I still blogged....'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115297093573459013</id><published>2006-07-15T06:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T06:42:28.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How the Democrats can lose this thing.</title><content type='html'>This is, as always, basically just my take on a situation based almost entirely on my own anecdotal evidence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to go to a big regional fair yesterday afternoon.  In 100 degree heat.  It was unpleasant.  While I was there, I needed to get some information from the local Republican and Democratic parties, who both had displays there.  Now, having worked on political campaigns in the past, I've "worked the booth" at more than my fair share of county fairs.  I know it's hot and miserable and a pain in the ass.  It takes work and determination to keep a smile on your face and sell your candidates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, the Republicans I talked to were pleasant and personable and quite helpful.  We didn't talk actual political issues though, which helped.  This clearly would have been the sticking point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Likewise, I didn't talk about actual political issues with the Democrats either.  Which is a shame...because without the bond of similar political views, these particular Democrats came across as sort of snotty and off-putting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was an undecided voter (which I am decidely NOT), the Dems wouldn't have won me over.  I probably would have, however, taken a closer look at the GOP candidates.  The mere thought of this makes my blood run cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The country is in shambles thanks to the GOP.  Everybody knows it.  Winning 2006 elections should be a slam dunk for the Democrats.  However, if any of my anecdotal evidence is at all valid on a more widespread basis.....I'm not sure that's the case.  It's troubling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115297093573459013?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115297093573459013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115297093573459013' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115297093573459013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115297093573459013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-democrats-can-lose-this-thing.html' title='How the Democrats can lose this thing.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115281794794102011</id><published>2006-07-13T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T12:12:28.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Even the fool sometimes has sage insights.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Your efforts will result in much profit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shut&lt;/span&gt; up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So goes my never-ending love-hate relationship with fortune cookie fortunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not news to anyone who knows me.  In fact, I think I may have &lt;a href="http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/04/damn-lies.html"&gt;blogged about it&lt;/a&gt; before.  But, I feel like blogging about it again.  Sue me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, I love fortune cookie fortunes because they are random.  Also, they are wrapped in a delicious crispy little cookie.  But it’s mostly because they are random.  One of life’s biggest disappointments is when you have two fortune cookies from the same restaurant and you get the same two fortunes.  It ruins the lovely random mysteriousness for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; fortune cookie fortunes.  I hate them because they are, obviously, complete and utter bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are just a few of the fortunes I have sitting in a pile on the desk next to my computer  (the fact that I have a rather sizeable collection of fortune cookie fortunes sitting in a pile next to my computer should, realistically, surprise no one):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;• &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;When bargain hunting, be practical.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;• Others need not lose for you to win.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;• You are very wealthy but you don’t know it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;• Plan your graduation party with Leeann Chin Catering &amp; Delivery.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;• &lt;/span&gt;(Oops….wrong side.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;• Your message must focus on the receiver. Ignore yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See?  Total crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m thinking of buying a package of fortune cookies from the grocery store.  Every morning when I wake up, I’ll crack one open and spend the rest of the day living my life according to a very literal translation of said fortune.  Could be fun.  One time, I decided to carry around the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I Ching&lt;/span&gt; and a bunch of pennies.  Whenever I had to make a decision, I threw down the pennies and consulted the book for guidance.  That was only slightly more cryptic (but perhaps an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;eensy&lt;/span&gt; bit less crazy) than letting a fortune cookie guide me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oooh…wait…look at this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;You have more work than you can handle. Go take a rest; you deserve it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No kidding!  I might make a copy of this one to show my boss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115281794794102011?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115281794794102011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115281794794102011' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115281794794102011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115281794794102011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/07/even-fool-sometimes-has-sage-insights.html' title='Even the fool sometimes has sage insights.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115259369087752244</id><published>2006-07-10T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T21:57:07.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Death and Chocolate Ice Cream</title><content type='html'>To me, chocolate ice cream will always remind me of death.  I think it goes back to my grandparents' wakes and funerals when I was in middle school.  Their youngest grandchild and the most freakishly over-sensitive person you'll ever meet, I took their deaths really hard.  Various family members took me away from the funeral home every couple of hours, and chocolate malts were my comfort food of choice.  Ever since, I don't usually crave chocolate ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I probably should have realized the Universe was trying to send me a message when I inexplicably picked up a box of chocolate ice cream sundae cones at the grocery store tonight.  I should have known something bad would happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got home to find that my rabbit, Bonny the Bunny, had died.  It's devastating to me.  I don't care how stupid that sounds.  Bonny was a good pet, and probably the sweetest and most docile creature God ever created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Bonny loved me too much.  I've had her since college, and she was really attached.  She always got kind of sick and moody whenever I was gone for a weekend or a few days.  When I left her in Wisconsin while I moved to Louisiana for Teach for America, she developed some rather serious health conditions that never really cleared up, even after I came back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that she loved me so much is what troubles me the most.  Because as any two-bit psychoanalyst or my mother could tell you, deep down I firmly believe that I don't deserve to be loved.  This explains a lot about why I'm so drawn to people who treat me like crap.  (But that's an entirely different blog.)  It also explains a lot about my attachment to my pets.  They love me, and though I don't understand that, it's wonderful.  On the flip side, I can love them without feeling like a fool, which is equally wonderful for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Losing that is really hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3355/520/1600/Bonny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3355/520/400/Bonny.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115259369087752244?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115259369087752244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115259369087752244' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115259369087752244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115259369087752244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/07/death-and-chocolate-ice-cream.html' title='Death and Chocolate Ice Cream'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115176157046954477</id><published>2006-07-01T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T06:49:11.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I might be a workaholic.</title><content type='html'>Who'd have guessed THAT?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My place of employment is currently ok-ing overtime hours if you want them, which doesn't always happen.  So, I've been taking full advantage.  I've had one day off since last Thursday, and I used it to go watch the Twins kick the Dodger's asses at the Metrodome on Tuesday.  By the time I have another day off, I'll have worked another 8 straight days.  I'll have worked a total of 12 days in a row, except for 1 day off.  And I'm more than OK with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115176157046954477?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115176157046954477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115176157046954477' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115176157046954477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115176157046954477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-might-be-workaholic.html' title='I might be a workaholic.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115154318318636400</id><published>2006-06-28T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T19:02:52.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vote for Joe</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogContent"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blacktextnb10"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c114/flamingojones/im_mauerbutton_200x199.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voting for the MLB All-Star team ENDS TOMORROW NIGHT, so everyone should cast their votes ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the best batting average (.398) in all the Majors, Twins catcher Joe Mauer HAS to be in the game. If you're not a baseball fan, vote anyway. It's not going to hurt anything. Plus everyone who votes for Joe, and lists the Twins as one of their two favorite clubs, is automatically entered in a drawing for some cool prizes. (if you win them, and you don't want them, I will take them, and love you forever.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://minnesota.twins.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/min/fan_forum/mauer_asg_sweeps.jsp"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;VOTE HERE NOW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115154318318636400?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115154318318636400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115154318318636400' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115154318318636400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115154318318636400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/vote-for-joe.html' title='Vote for Joe'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115131982043729265</id><published>2006-06-26T03:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T04:03:40.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Congratulations?!</title><content type='html'>So, I had to get up at 5:30 this a.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY, for the love of all that is good, would I DO something like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because a supervisor at work asked me to drive one of the precious delinquents to their court hearing this morning, before my REAL shift of work.  So, I get to drive to downtown Minneapolis in a ginormous van during rush-hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again....WHY would I do this?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because my employers recently deemed me worthy of receiving health insurance, I now feel beholden to them.  This is PROBABLY the reason that I got health insurance.  They're sneaky like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Counting time I've worked there during college too, I've done this job for 4 years, and I'm JUST getting full benefits NOW.  And at that, my boss was doing me a favor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss even said "Congratulations!!  You have insurance!" when she told me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the availability of healthcare something we should really earn "Congratulations" for?  I think that sort of thing should be likened to "Good job breathing today, keep up the great work!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I'm just cranky that because our country doesn't have socialized healthcare, I have to be awake so damn early.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115131982043729265?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115131982043729265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115131982043729265' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115131982043729265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115131982043729265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/congratulations.html' title='Congratulations?!'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115120963751793928</id><published>2006-06-24T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-24T21:27:17.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>People, you need to warn me about these things.</title><content type='html'>So, I've been reading The Devil Wears Prada.  Not my usual literary fare, but it's well written not at all heavy, which I like for summer reading.  Any number of people I respect have recommended it to me.  Why wouldn't I read it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, why on EARTH did no one warn  me that the main character's boyfriend is in Teach for America?  I like the book, I really do.  It's the sort of book I'd be likely to just sit down and read and read and read until I was done.  Except for the fact that whenever the author writes about TFA, I have to put the book down and take a break until the nausea and dry-heaving subsides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  Let's not be giving TFA any more Pollyana-like publicity.  Sometimes I blame FOX and David E. Kelly for getting me into that whole mess in the first place.....had a character on &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0247081/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Boston Public&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; not have been a TFA teacher, I probably never would have googled it, never would have applied, interviewed, been accepted and subsequently sold my soul to &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1586481797/103-4850881-4442220?v=glance&amp;n=283155"&gt;Wendy Kopp&lt;/a&gt;.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really, really hoping that someone in Hollywood had the foresight to edit that crap out of the movie, for two reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;1.  I don't want even more impressionable young idealists to get sucked into the crazy creepy cult that is TFA.  I'm selfless like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I'd like to see the movie.  But if I do, and the TFA references are still there, I don't know if I'll be able to suppress my urge to shout rude things at the screen.  I mean, it's hard enough for me to suppress the urge to spontaneously start applauding whenever I see the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hETGi5ywalo"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Snakes on a Plane&lt;/span&gt; teaser&lt;/a&gt;.  (The last time, I had to sit on my hands.)  I'm just not that great at impulse control.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it so much to ask that pop culture not foil my efforts to completely forget that Teach for America exists anywhere but in my nightmares?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Who may or may not wear Prada, but is most definitely the devil.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115120963751793928?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115120963751793928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115120963751793928' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115120963751793928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115120963751793928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/people-you-need-to-warn-me-about-these.html' title='People, you need to warn me about these things.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115107346550985763</id><published>2006-06-23T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T07:37:45.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Most Funnest Meme Yet.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://katesomething.blogspot.com/2006/06/meme-heaven.html" target="_self"&gt; Shamelessly stolen&lt;/a&gt;.  Because that's what memes ARE.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;b&gt;Choose a band/artist:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The Old 97's.  We saw this coming a mile a way, did we not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;b&gt;Answer each question using the title of a song by that band/artist.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Indefinitely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;b&gt;Are you male or female:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am a Singular Girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;b&gt;Describe yourself:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Timebomb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;b&gt;How do some people feel about you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;They Let the Idiot Speak&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;b&gt;How do you feel about yourself?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'm a little bit Jagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;b&gt;Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I Wish the Worst for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. &lt;b&gt;Describe current boyfriend/girlfriend:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Alone So Far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;b&gt;Describe where you want to be:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Just Like California&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;b&gt;Describe how you live:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Am I Too Late?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. &lt;b&gt;Describe how you love:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;If My Heart Were a Car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. &lt;b&gt;What would you ask for if you had just one wish?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Blinding Sheets of Rain (We have a drought)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. &lt;b&gt;Share a few words of wisdom:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Let the Train Blow the Whistle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. &lt;b&gt;Now say goodbye:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;   &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt;" times="" new="" roman=""&gt;Friends Forever?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115107346550985763?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115107346550985763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115107346550985763' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115107346550985763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115107346550985763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/best-most-funnest-meme-yet.html' title='Best Most Funnest Meme Yet.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115095385867418305</id><published>2006-06-21T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T22:24:18.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad sign?</title><content type='html'>Is it a bad sign when you notice a dozen vultures circling your place of employment (assuming you DON'T work in a slaughterhouse)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably, huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115095385867418305?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115095385867418305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115095385867418305' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115095385867418305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115095385867418305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/bad-sign.html' title='Bad sign?'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115083027292372322</id><published>2006-06-20T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T12:04:32.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How much should you pay to do the right thing?</title><content type='html'>The St. Paul, MN school board has recently made some decisions that are ground-breaking, in my opinion.   First off, they, along with the Minneapolis and Stillwater school boards, made it a priority to ensure that all school district apparel purchases (i.e. athletic uniforms, t-shirts, sweatshirts, etc.) come from sources that absolutely do not use sweatshop labor.  This decision came about after several high school student activists made presentations to the boards. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, they've also decided to mandate that any bus company wishing to put a bid forward to provide district bussing, must provide their drivers with paid sick leave.  Makes sense to me.  If a bus driver's sick, let them stay home rather than get a whole busload of kids sick too.  Plus, it's just the decent thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, they just got the bill for their decency.  The paid sick-leave requirement is going to cost the district an additional $850,000 above and beyond increases that they've anticipated.  This also comes after a $10 million cut to their proposed budget for next year.  The one Republican on the Board is getting all twitchy about it.  He's also huffy that it will cost roughly $25,000 to make sure district clothing purchases are sweat-free.  He says that "it's not the school district's place to micromanage the free market."   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not.  And I understand that the price of doing the decent thing is going to make things tight elsewhere.  But I have a hard time condemning Board members for trying to do the right thing.  Though many legislators are doing their best to change it, schools are not yet the same as private corporations.  They serve a much higher purpose than just looking out for the bottom line.  They are supposed to not only be educating our children in the core curricular areas, but also teaching them about how to be good citizens.  How better to do that than to show them that basic human rights and fair treatment for workers is a priority to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elona Street-Steward, chairwoman of the board, said "we are the epitome of the highest concentration of American values.  We do not teach that the exploitation of people's gifts makes for a successful country."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  You don't hear that too often nowadays. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how much IS too much to pay for doing the right thing?  It's the Wal-Mart dilemma.  Sure, you can get things at a lower cost to you personally.  But what about the cost to others? How do you quantify it? Sweatshop workers, Wal-Mart "associates" who are treated poorly, and paid worse, environmental problems caused by the corporation, etc.  It all adds up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how do you reconcile personal costs vs. societal and global costs?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115083027292372322?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115083027292372322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115083027292372322' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115083027292372322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115083027292372322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/how-much-should-you-pay-to-do-right.html' title='How much should you pay to do the right thing?'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115043041108400480</id><published>2006-06-15T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T21:00:11.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="blogContent"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; I shamelessly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&amp;friendID=53488146&amp;amp;blogID=132750261&amp;MyToken=fa6ec514-2ce0-4568-b400-6896e863041b" target="_self"&gt;stole this from Jim&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;.  Who stole it from someone else.  Who stole it from someone else.  Who no doubt stole it from someone else.  A meme is born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rules to this are: List 10 things you want to say to people but never will. Don't say who there are, and use people only once. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't do a MySpace/Blogger-specific list, since that's WAY not anonymous enough for my taste.  But here are my 10 general ones, in no particular order of importance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  I'm not sure what you want from me.  That uncertainty freaks me out completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  I know that you're a raping, sexually-harassing, son of a bitch.  That's why I think it's neither funny nor cute when you ask if you can drive my car, and why I always say "No way."  So you can just stop asking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  I think I might like you, but that's completely inexplicable, which disturbs me.  So, I'm just going to convince myself that I don't care whether you live or die, and will continue to treat you as such in every forced encounter during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  I think you made a huge mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I cried on the happiest day of your life, and they weren't tears of mutual joy, if you know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I wish you had never told me you loved me, because I believed you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. You suck out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I actually knew every time you were lying to me.  I just didn't care enough about you to call you on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Your husband  makes inappropriate comments to me whenever we're in a room alone together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  You're so much better than this, what the hell happened to you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115043041108400480?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115043041108400480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115043041108400480' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115043041108400480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115043041108400480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/confession-time.html' title='Confession Time'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115026465277880096</id><published>2006-06-13T22:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T22:57:32.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every day is a new adventure.</title><content type='html'>Tonight, my friend Amanda and I spent four hours in an Olive Garden parking lot.  Apparently, something went wrong with my car that goes wrong with VWs a LOT, but no one ever warned me about.  It resulted in the car turning on, but not being able to shift out of "Park."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a series of increasingly frustrating phone calls to my dealer (car, not crack), and a variety of roadside assistance numbers (none of which were too hot on the "assistance" part), we decided to leave the car there overnight and either figure out how to fix or tow it tomorrow.  But that was only after FOUR fun-filled hours camping out at The O.G.  I finally pulled a fuzzy blanket out of my trunk and we chilled on that for a while, watching hundreds of other cars that DIDN'T crap out on their owners, whiz by.  No one took the parking space next to mine the entire time we were there.  I think it's because they thought we were homeless people who would beg them for money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The situation was only made funnier by the fact that between the two of us, we were wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and an Air Supply t-shirt.  "Opposites Attract" by Paula Abdul may or may not have been playing on my sound system.  It was kind of like we were Marty McFly and Doc, and our magical Delorean busted down on our way Back to the Future, from 1990.  Now we're stuck in 2006, and it kind of sucks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115026465277880096?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115026465277880096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115026465277880096' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115026465277880096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115026465277880096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/every-day-is-new-adventure.html' title='Every day is a new adventure.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-115015369075302095</id><published>2006-06-12T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T16:08:10.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, THAT's disappointing.</title><content type='html'>This morning on my way to work, I thought I saw an amish woman jogging in full amish dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got REALLY excited about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was just a false alarm.  It was only a non-amish elderly gentleman whose attire happened to resemble an amish dress and hat from a distance.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.siskiyous.edu/class/engl12/amish/momanddaughter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.siskiyous.edu/class/engl12/amish/momanddaughter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sad.  To see an amish woman jogging in a dress would have made my day.  Old men wearing weird clothes are a dime a dozen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-115015369075302095?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/115015369075302095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=115015369075302095' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115015369075302095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/115015369075302095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/well-thats-disappointing.html' title='Well, THAT&apos;s disappointing.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114991836205872502</id><published>2006-06-09T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T22:50:11.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Question of the Night (err....morning?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="audblog"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/37482/369417.mp3" class="audLink"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114991836205872502?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114991836205872502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114991836205872502' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114991836205872502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114991836205872502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/question-of-night-errmorning.html' title='Question of the Night (err....morning?)'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114983377097253145</id><published>2006-06-08T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T23:16:11.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The sweet taste of success</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Tonight I went to work, and basically did nothing but play tennis for a few hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was paid an hourly wage to play tennis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this mean that I'm a professional tennis player now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I also got paid to play Monopoly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now professional tennis player AND a professional real estate tycoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a very successful day.  In my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114983377097253145?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114983377097253145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114983377097253145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114983377097253145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114983377097253145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/sweet-taste-of-success.html' title='The sweet taste of success'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114970430516339003</id><published>2006-06-07T10:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T11:18:25.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The world according to ducks</title><content type='html'>I'm sad because my baby ducklings are getting bigger, and therefore will be leaving me soon.  They're ginormous now, and we're practicing their independent living skills by letting them roam free in the lawn all day.  It's fun to just sit out on the deck and watch them.  You can learn a lot from a duck.  Here are just some of the life-lessons I've learned from my babies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you want to be somewhere other than where you are, run full-speed 'til you get there.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Then&lt;/span&gt; you can take a nap.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Just because you were born a duck, that doesn't mean you like to swim.  (One of my ducks is scared to be in the water, in spite of otherwise acting very duck-y.  We've named her "Sarah.")&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stick close to your family.  If, for some reason, you get separated, beep loudly until someone comes to find you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pre-packaged food is WAY better than eating bugs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Don't travel more than 20 feet unless there is adequate adult supervision.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mud is fun.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I'm going to miss them when they go :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114970430516339003?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114970430516339003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114970430516339003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114970430516339003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114970430516339003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/world-according-to-ducks_07.html' title='The world according to ducks'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114963423495872823</id><published>2006-06-06T15:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T15:50:34.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The mark of the beast</title><content type='html'>Apparently expectant mothers all over have been desperately trying to avoid having their &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/13171014/"&gt;babies born on 6/6/06&lt;/a&gt;.  I'm not knocking that.  I'd do the same thing, if I were them.  I don't mess with trip sixes at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you KNOW that somewhere, at this very moment, there is one dumbass naming their new kid Damien.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114963423495872823?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114963423495872823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114963423495872823' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114963423495872823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114963423495872823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/mark-of-beast.html' title='The mark of the beast'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114948890402694207</id><published>2006-06-04T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T23:28:24.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Text Messages from Above</title><content type='html'>On my cell phone, when I get a new text-message, it shows me the message before it shows who sent it.  This can be kind of annoying, but it is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight while I was at work I received the following message:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;boys get better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought was that it was a message sent to inspire me not to give up on the male gender completely.  To remind me that there is hope for the chromosomally-challeneged unfairer sex after all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys get better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was kind of nice.  Simple. I briefly considered making it my new mantra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, then I saw that it was just a message from a drunken co-worker, wanting to know if the boys we work with had somehow miraculously stopped being assholes since he finished his shift.  He was apparently too impaired to find the question mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for inspiration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114948890402694207?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114948890402694207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114948890402694207' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114948890402694207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114948890402694207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/text-messages-from-above.html' title='Text Messages from Above'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114934506317998973</id><published>2006-06-03T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-03T07:31:03.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's God saying to you NOW, Pat?</title><content type='html'>Well, it's &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/13105641/"&gt;not a lightning strike&lt;/a&gt;, but it's close.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114934506317998973?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114934506317998973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114934506317998973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114934506317998973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114934506317998973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/whats-god-saying-to-you-now-pat.html' title='What&apos;s God saying to you NOW, Pat?'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114930932263757320</id><published>2006-06-02T21:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T22:12:18.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An audio-blog in two parts.</title><content type='html'>Shameless Go-Go's worship, a fish taco reference, AND I say "My Humps" more than any human being should.  This post has it all.  Sort of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="audblog"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/37482/366362.mp3" class="audLink"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and Part II, to finish things off:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="audblog"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/37482/366367.mp3" class="audLink"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114930932263757320?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114930932263757320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114930932263757320' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114930932263757320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114930932263757320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/06/audio-blog-in-two-parts.html' title='An audio-blog in two parts.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114913004572893669</id><published>2006-05-31T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T21:06:37.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>High Points</title><content type='html'>Today had few high points, but they are noteworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a) A random kid told me I had a cool car in a very awe-inspired tone.&lt;br /&gt;b) &lt;a href="http://deadgayson.blogspot.com/"&gt;Louisiana Phillip&lt;/a&gt;, my own personal sex-symbol, talked to me on the phone for nearly two hours.  Just what the doctor ordered.&lt;br /&gt;c) I found out that my friends Amanda and Roxanne didn't get to see X-Men 3 all the way through the second time, so Amanda is still willing to see it again with me (sorry Roxy &lt;img src="http://x.myspace.com/images/blog/smileys/sympathetic.gif" /&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;d) I was able to eat not one, but TWO yogurt cups!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;e) Amanda and I are totally going to &lt;a href="http://www.fieldmuseum.org/tut/exhibition.asp"&gt;Chicago to see King Tut&lt;/a&gt; this summer.  Because we're awesome like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114913004572893669?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114913004572893669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114913004572893669' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114913004572893669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114913004572893669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/05/high-points.html' title='High Points'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114909696696635102</id><published>2006-05-31T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T10:36:07.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I really dislike Jim Sensenbrenner.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.reachm.com/amstreet/archives/2006/05/31/this-gets-sensenbrenners-attention/"&gt;I wish he wasn't from Wisconsin. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114909696696635102?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114909696696635102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114909696696635102' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114909696696635102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114909696696635102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-really-dislike-jim-sensenbrenner.html' title='I really dislike Jim Sensenbrenner.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114894930067533070</id><published>2006-05-29T17:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T17:35:00.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything I need to know, I learned from food poisoning,</title><content type='html'>I woke up last night sicker than I can remember being in a long time.  It was a rough night.  And a rough day.  I can manage to be up and about for roughly 5 minutes before I have to collapse in an exhausted heap....so, I'm going to type fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best guess as to what is currently making me wish I was dead seems to be food poisoning, or salmonella poisoning.  It's....unpleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned a few things though:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;When your body is trying to reject poison, you will vomit with such force that blood vessels will burst in your face, making you look like a circus freak.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's entirely possible to subsist on nothing but 10 pieces of finger jello.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The best (but most unrecognized) feeling in the world is "&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;not throwing up&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;There are probably more, but it's about time to collapse again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114894930067533070?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114894930067533070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114894930067533070' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114894930067533070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114894930067533070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/05/everything-i-need-to-know-i-learned.html' title='Everything I need to know, I learned from food poisoning,'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14217088.post-114867176495031791</id><published>2006-05-26T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T12:29:25.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6 weird things about me.</title><content type='html'>I got tagged on MySpace with this meme, so I figured I'd post it here too, because it's Friday, I'm bored, and I have nothing more exciting to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I only have six bones in my neck, instead of seven.  No one knows why.  Also, one of my pupils doesn't contract like normal.  That should probably count as weird thing #2, but I figured I'd lump all of my physical abnormalities into one.  I'm a freak.  The pupil thing causes trouble any time I have to see a new doctor, because they always think I have a concussion.  I try to explain that it's just the way my eyes are, and after I'm able to successfully tell them my address, what year it is and who the president is, they usually believe me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I'm a good cook, but I frequently tell people that I'm not.  Once people find out you're a good cook, they want you to actually DO it.  It's too much pressure.  When it comes to cooking, I'm happy wallowing in the soft bigotry of low expectations, personally.  Then when I do cook, and people like it, they make a big deal out of it, ensuring that my cooking abilities will never be taken for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I don't give blood, and I'm not an organ donor.  It's awful, I know.  But, I tend to pass out and be sick for days after I have even a little bit of blood drawn.  I'm not saying that wouldn't be worth it in a dire and immediate emergency....but I don't really want to volunteer for it.  As for my organs...there are a few reasons I don't sign the donor card. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;If I'm ever in a life-threatening situation, I don't want the doctors to have any agenda besides doing whatever they can to save me.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the 2002 Clint Eastwood movie "Bloodwork," a serial killer targeted people of a certain blood-type who were on donor lists.  While I know that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; would never happen to me, I'd rather be on the safe side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;With the kind of luck I have, I'm pretty sure that the day I signed the donor card, something awful would happen.  I don't like to tempt fate.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've grown quite fond of my organs, and I'd like to take them with me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I was in elementary school, the father of one of my classmates came to school to talk about his job as an EMT.  There was talk about scissors.  And corneas.  And donors.  I can't even type about it without freaking out.  It scarred me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;It's irrational, I know.  But keep in mind that a majority of my decisions are based my overwhelming (and frankly annoying) habit of trying to save the world.  So, I think I can make this one irrationally selfish decision.  Everyone can spare me the lecture, I already got it from the DMV employees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  In college, I went to an NSYNC concert.  It was under duress, if that helps.  My roommate freshman year was obsessed with them, and she talked me into going with her to see them at the Target Center.  Aside from a bazillion screaming and crying 13 year old girls, it wasn't THAT bad.  The boys could dance.  I'll give them that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I hate basketball.  I guess that's not weird in and of itself....but everybody seems to love NCAA and NBA basketball.  I used to, but I can't stand it anymore.  It's the only major sport that I don't enjoy watching (I don't consider NASCAR a sport...otherwise there would be TWO sports I don't enjoy watching.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I found two four-leaf clovers in ten minutes just now.  I think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; a little weird. But this way I can use the Old 97's line "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why don't you come over? I'll show you my four-leaf clover&lt;/span&gt;" all summer long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14217088-114867176495031791?l=flamingojones.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/feeds/114867176495031791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14217088&amp;postID=114867176495031791' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114867176495031791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14217088/posts/default/114867176495031791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flamingojones.blogspot.com/2006/05/6-weird-things-about-me.html' title='6 weird things about me.'/><author><name>Flamingo Jones</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02417199393295362824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04878649079366465838'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry></feed>