<?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-8797769873268581304</id><updated>2011-08-28T03:47:33.782-07:00</updated><category term='Shaq Quotes'/><category term='animation'/><title type='text'>PHLOGGER</title><subtitle type='html'>General musings, observations and critiques with the random photo and occasional animated video thrown in-blog</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-3047796286532532743</id><published>2010-10-11T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T15:38:03.766-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animation'/><title type='text'>I'M WALKING IN THE AIRRRR</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KVRoyQsPaV0?hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KVRoyQsPaV0?hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as a youngster, I always loved the book and movie "The Snowman". Absolutely one of the best things out there. There was never any dialogue, but the pictures where pretty amazing and the story while simple, is definitely worth a go. The movie takes it a step further with all the cool music. So this is my version of that awesome story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-3047796286532532743?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3047796286532532743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=3047796286532532743&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3047796286532532743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3047796286532532743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/10/im-walking-in-airrrr.html' title='I&apos;M WALKING IN THE AIRRRR'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-3619065781611436218</id><published>2010-10-10T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T01:35:22.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COME AGAIN. YOUR NAME IS WHAT?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TLJX5HyTU7I/AAAAAAAAAHA/pfmo9EcpxuA/s1600/SUNP0059.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TLJX5HyTU7I/AAAAAAAAAHA/pfmo9EcpxuA/s320/SUNP0059.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526576331591209906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Names. Everyone has them. Some are cool, so are whatever, and some just make you wonder if people know the difference between a "name" and a "word". Now in all fairness, most people don't choose their names. Their parents do, and unfortunately in most cases it's the offspring of hippies that usually pay the price for this. However, sometimes people decide what they want to be called, and in those situations, it makes you wonder...do they really understand what they're doing or is a demon secretly possessing them and making them the laughing stock of the community by forcing them to pick a name like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you're thinking of the famous 20th century German opera composer, you may be a little confused. I am talking about a one Arnold George Dorsey who CHOSE to change his name to the unfortunate Engelbert Humperdinck in an effort to launch his music career and become a sex bomb. I don't know about you, but choosing a name that conjures up images of wedgies, pre-pubescent awkwardness, and an all around aura of loser-ness doesn't exactly scream JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE of the '50's easy listening world, but then again...this guy actually was famous, so what the hell do I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRUCE COCKBURN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here's a man who managed to rise above his very unfortunate birth name. While seemingly being destined to contract gonorrhea, this man actually managed to carve quite a successful career as a rock/folk guitarist. Now, whether or not groupies actively try to get on board and ride the "Cockburn" is another story entirely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PILOT INSPEKTOR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't believe this is a real name? Well it is. This is what actor Jason Lee chose to name his son. Why? Because the name "Pilot" comes up in one of Lee's favorite songs by the band Granddaddy. Then why Inspektor? Who the hell knows. I have a sad feeling this kid is gonna grow up thinking those Female Body Inspector shirts is actually gonna help him get laid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-3619065781611436218?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3619065781611436218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=3619065781611436218&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3619065781611436218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3619065781611436218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/10/come-again-your-name-is-what.html' title='COME AGAIN. YOUR NAME IS WHAT?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TLJX5HyTU7I/AAAAAAAAAHA/pfmo9EcpxuA/s72-c/SUNP0059.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-4717560158231568993</id><published>2010-10-06T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T18:01:30.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE...HU-MON?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TK0TfMZo9kI/AAAAAAAAAG4/OBrulwDhWNA/s1600/SUNP0107.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TK0TfMZo9kI/AAAAAAAAAG4/OBrulwDhWNA/s320/SUNP0107.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525093744479106626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well it looks like I have been slacking even more now. I can't even keep up with my commitment to update this thing three times a week. The imagination sectors of my brain are a little dry and the mushrooms haven't been helping, so I don't know what to do. Oh well, I guess it comes when it comes. AND TODAY IT CAME! I was just thinking about these little things which annoy me in conversation. They're not really a big deal, but if it happens enough, it can be quite the bother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAIT, I JUST SAID THAT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you hate it when you make a valid point or say something that is really cool/funny/awesome, but you just said it to a couple friends, then that friend repeats what you just said only at 100 decibels and then everyone else thinks HE'S the genius? This should be a crime against humanity. On par with the murder of Bambi's mother and the continual refusal to let the silly rabbit have some Trix. JUST GIVE THE DAMN RABBIT SOME TRIX ALREADY! He's been waiting to eat the stuff for the past 20 years now. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;SO IT'S A TV SHOW, BUT IT HAS SLOTHS. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THIS SHOW? IT'S A TV SHOW, BUT IT HAS SLOTHS...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so not every one remembers stuff. That's cool. I forget stuff, too. It's not like there's a stenographer recording every conversation you've ever had with your friends and your friends go home and study the notes so as not to repeat themselves in the future. BUT....when your friends ask you if you've seen this show called FIREFLY and proceed to give you the synopsis and talk about how they made a movie called SERENITY based on the show FIREFLY for the tenth time over a period of the FOUR times we hung out (I hope this guy knows I'm talking about him right now), it can wear a little thin. On the outside I am politely saying, "Oh really? How intriguing." On the inside, I am quickly ripping my eyeballs out and stuffing them into my ears while slowly swallowing my tongue and cursing Athena for abandoning me during this time of suffering. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HMMM, I DON'T REMEMBER THIS, SO IT NEVER HAPPENED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...the worst of the casual hang out sins in my opinion.  It seems like a very convenient way to wiggle your way out of something. After all, if you don't remember, you're not at fault right? WRONG. This just adds more fuel to my stenographer idea, so you better flex those memory muscles if you're gonna hang out with me. Saying you don't remember is just your way of committing the perfect crime. Keeping the Mario Kart 64 game I loaned you for the summer which you just so happened to "forget" about. Now it's six years later and I'm still pissed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4717560158231568993?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4717560158231568993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4717560158231568993&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4717560158231568993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4717560158231568993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/10/what-does-it-mean-to-behu-mon.html' title='WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE...HU-MON?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TK0TfMZo9kI/AAAAAAAAAG4/OBrulwDhWNA/s72-c/SUNP0107.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-7506551979863569997</id><published>2010-09-29T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T17:56:55.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS WAS FUN..WELL SEE YA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TKPXUO0IZTI/AAAAAAAAAGw/1L2jA4wDv7k/s1600/SUNP0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TKPXUO0IZTI/AAAAAAAAAGw/1L2jA4wDv7k/s320/SUNP0036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522494310660465970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So today, like any day really, I was thinking. Specifically I was thinking of the awkward dates I've been on and what exactly happened to make me feel very...uncomfortable. Now I know first dates, can easily be awkward, and to be fair to the other person, you've got to give it a couple dates before everyone is really able to be themselves. So since this is my blog, I'll just say that I am always awesome on dates and any awkwardness is a result of the awkward person I asked out on a date. I don't know about anyone else, but the following three really kill any buzz I may have going into a date. So in case there are any fine ladies looking to date the hot and eligible creator of Phlogger, you may want to take some notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EYE CONTACT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eye contact is great. It let's the person talking know you're paying attention. It shows you're interested. Whether or not you actually are is a different story, but at least it appears that way. However too much and you come across as someone who is trying to make love with my eye balls. I want you to pay attention to me. Yes. But what I don't want is you peering into my soul and attempting to impregnate me with your hypnotic gaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;PSYCHO ANALYSIS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I want to understand what pain and heartache lies deep within by psyche, I'll just...well let's face it.. I'll just bury that deep down next to the day I confessed my love to Jenny Slade in 4th grade and the day I pissed my pants in front of her, which incidentally took place immediately after I confessed my love for her. What I don't want, is to be psycho analyzed on a first date. If I want psycho analysis, I'll eat a fortune cookie. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;SHARING IS CARING&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We just met. We're just one step above strangers. SO WHY THE HELL DON'T YOU GET YOUR OWN CHICKEN ALFREDO? Do I really need to say it? Sharing food on a date is pretty much rounding second base. You don't do it with just anyone. If I go on a dinner date, or any date that involves the consumption of food or drink, I expect to get my fill. The food is part of the date. I didn't just come just to have a conversation. I came for the WHOLE experience. If we're on a first date and you eat 1/3 of my pasta, that's pretty much a violation of my personal space. The only day I'll let that happen is the the day I finally cave in and say "I do".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-7506551979863569997?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7506551979863569997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=7506551979863569997&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7506551979863569997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7506551979863569997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-was-funwell-see-ya.html' title='THIS WAS FUN..WELL SEE YA'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TKPXUO0IZTI/AAAAAAAAAGw/1L2jA4wDv7k/s72-c/SUNP0036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-7764650492404319277</id><published>2010-09-27T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T15:04:07.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOUR NAME IS...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TKD9gX92cQI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VKekj3DLAxY/s1600/SUNP0078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TKD9gX92cQI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VKekj3DLAxY/s320/SUNP0078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521691875787305218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So it's been a few weeks since my last post. It's a combination of me having absolutely no ideas and the arrival of Halo:Reach, but HUZZAH, I am back for another post. Hopefully my one reader has remained loyal to my phlog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was just thinking of those little mistakes people can sometimes make in social settings. These things are completely common but can make many situations worse by not addressing them immediately. Today I would like to address NAME FORGETTING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WE'VE MET BEFORE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has this ever happened to you before. You extend a hand in friendship, politely introduce yourself, then the guy on the receiving end of the most polite and courteous introduction says, "We've actually met before. You know at BLAH BLAH BLAH." What an asshole. Obviously you are now flustered, and in panic mode, so you do what most normal people do to so save face. You say, "OH YEAH! Sure sure. Of course I remember." It's all total bull though. Well, after learning my lesson over the years, I now stay clear of the "Nice to meet you" greet unless I am totally sure I am meeting them for the first time. I use the "How's it going?" or "Good to see you". That way it leaves it open enough so that you can believably save yourself should the jerk you just introduced yourself to decide to play mind games and tell you that you were actually the best man at his wedding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;HEY....YOU.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So you're at this cool party of close friends. Like ten people or so. You know everyone, you are sure of that. But the hippie in the corner...what's her name? You remember her because one day you had the misfortune of hanging out with her on the one day she decided to wear shorts and share with the world what she has not been shaving. She's also vegan. What's up with that? Well in this situation, with such a small group, you have to tread carefully. You don't want to draw the most attention. Why? Because that makes it most likely that people are gonna be talking to you about other people. And what do you think will happen when they talk to you about the hippie and you talk of her as some girl you've never met? So you got to play this cool. What you should do is bring a friend over with you to the other corner of the room and offer to make drinks, then have her call out to different people and ask if they need more booze...chances are, she's gonna call out the hippie's name and you're gonna look like a gentlemen in front of Betty Sue, who's looking smokin' tonight. Now this won't always work so your other options are: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Invent some game where everyone has to write their name on a piece of paper. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-If the person who's name you don't know has something that stands out about them eg. green      hair. Ask "Who do you think has the greenest hair?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Talk about the person in question, but in a vague way so that the person who you are having the conversation with has to say the name of the person in question. For example&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU: She's a total bore.&lt;br /&gt;HOGARTH: Who?&lt;br /&gt;You: She is.&lt;br /&gt;Hogarth: Who is "she"?&lt;br /&gt;You: You don't know her name? You're an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;Hogarth: Sue?&lt;br /&gt;You: No&lt;br /&gt;Hogarth: Leroy?&lt;br /&gt;You: No&lt;br /&gt;Hogarth: Claire?&lt;br /&gt;You: YES. CLAIRE.&lt;br /&gt;Hogarth: Why is she a bore?&lt;br /&gt;You: Hmm? What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I AM (INSERT NAME HERE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're talking to Ruth and the conversation is going well. You guys are talking about bottle caps and jax(es?) and you thought the party couldn't get any wilder. Then Geena walks by and you hear her say "...Moonlight Sonata was one of Brahm's best pieces." Then you say to Ruth, "Geena is so stupid. We all know Vivaldi wrote Moonlight Sonata. What an idiot!" To which Ruth replies, "I am Geena". TWIST.  So being quick on your feet you say, "That's right. You are Geena. Ruth is the dumb one." While you may think you're slick, your error is as obvious as the face a child makes when it's pooping in its pants. Well, this is a tough situation to get out of. At this point, just take it and realize that the hour you spent hitting on Ruth has gone down the toilet. I mean Geena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-7764650492404319277?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7764650492404319277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=7764650492404319277&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7764650492404319277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7764650492404319277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/your-name-is.html' title='YOUR NAME IS...'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TKD9gX92cQI/AAAAAAAAAGg/VKekj3DLAxY/s72-c/SUNP0078.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-4299119614399323912</id><published>2010-09-09T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-09T12:55:40.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIkyyDaX81I/AAAAAAAAAGY/_EJd9Yo-Suo/s1600/SUNP0067.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIkyyDaX81I/AAAAAAAAAGY/_EJd9Yo-Suo/s320/SUNP0067.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514995054182658898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Who doesn't know about Highlander? One of the coolest films of the 80's. This movie is as timeless as milk left out on a hot summer day. This movie has it all, action, romance, and Sean Connery. I can imagine the screen writer pitching the idea "It's about a group of immortals who kill each other until there is only one left remaining, and the best part....that guy gets a prize!" Awesome. I do have a couple gripes with the film, though. None of which are enough to make me not like it, but enough to bring me out of the film every now and then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I AM CONNOR MACCLEOD&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why does Connor MacCleod not speak with a Scottish accent and instead sound like a prospector searching for gold. Whoever thought that having strep throat could replace having a Scottish accent is sorely mistaken. After all, the character IS Scottish. It's part of his whole back story. I mean,  Arnold Schwarzengger sounds more Scottish than this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM RAMIREZ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, the one ACTUAL Scottish guy in this movie plays a Spaniard. Sean Connery, probably the only thing Scotland is known for, plays some Spanish dude. What's up with that? I do appreciate the fact that they give him a nice tan and made him wear eyeliner to make him seem more Spanish, but really...all we see is an unusually brown Sean Connery with eyeliner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE PRIZE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the whole point of the movie is for these immortals to kill each other off till there is only one of them left, and that guy receives the coveted "prize". No one knows what the prize is except that only the last immortal standing will get it and that vying for the prize is the sole purpose of these immortals. So in your mind, when you hear that the reason for the existence of these immortals is to claim "the prize", you think "holy cow, that has got to be some amazing prize." Well hmmm...after becoming "The One", MacCleod does indeed get the prize of MORTALITY and TELEPATHY. Yes. Am I the only one who feels a little jipped here? The whole purpose of these immortals is to kill each other so that the last one alive can die of old age? Does this sound like a prize to you? And oh yes, don't forget about the ability to read people's minds. The two most useful and coveted abilities on earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4299119614399323912?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4299119614399323912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4299119614399323912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4299119614399323912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4299119614399323912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/there-can-only-be-one.html' title='THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIkyyDaX81I/AAAAAAAAAGY/_EJd9Yo-Suo/s72-c/SUNP0067.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6141686877589619977</id><published>2010-09-07T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T13:27:41.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I DEMAND SATISFACTION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIaW5Y1ZjQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/QRsDBUJXS14/s1600/SUNP0086.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIaW5Y1ZjQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/QRsDBUJXS14/s320/SUNP0086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514260706424884482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After seeing the Expendables this weekend, I am compelled to write about Stallone's many other films, which for some reason, are not as popular as Rambo or Rocky. Now before you uncultured minds criticize the esteemed works of Stallone, remember this fact, He played two of the most iconic roles in film. Bruce Willis will forever be known for his stubborn refusal to die easily, and Schwarzenegger will always be remembered for his penchant for coming back at a later time. However, Stallone will always be known for single handedly taking down the Soviet Union with his boxing prowess and for rescuing forgotten POWs (also single handedly). What people don't know is that besides being the very personification of testosterone, Stallone also has a very soft and emotional side, which he demonstrates by ripping the arms of his opponents in arm wrestling matches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OUR HERO EMERGES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lincoln Hawks (Stallone) is a lonely and hard working trucker. Driven away from his wife and child by his rich and way-to-nosy father-in-law, Hawks now lives a lonely life as a trucker, till one day, he receives a letter from his dying wife to pick up his estranged son (of ten years), from his school (A military academy) and look after him for a while. Cue emotion. The son hates Hawks for abandoning him, not knowing the truth of the situation. So what does Hawks due to repair this rift, why he imparts his love for professional arm wrestling to his son. Who by the way, looks like Justin Beiber. So try, for a moment, imagine that Justin Beiber attends a military academy and competes in arm wrestling matches across the U.S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; FATHER AND SON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is important to note that the mother dies during this period of bonding between Hawks and son. Which makes sense she was dying at the beginning but what doesn't make sense is why she would send her son AWAY during that period. Cue emotion. Hawks's father-in-law offers to pay Hawks 50 grand and give him a brand new semi truck if he would agree to give up his relationship with his son...ahh the father-in-law's grandson. Hawks says no because he has a full proof plan that would set him AND his son for life. The plan? Sell his current life blood, the semi-truck he owns NOW, use that money to enter an arm wrestling competition in Vegas (is there anything that CAN'T be done in Vegas?), win the competition, and then walk away with a cool prize of a 100 grand and a brand new semi. While doing this, he will also arm wrestle his way back into his son's heart. It is actually on his to-do list&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OVER THE TOP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hawks, alone in Vegas and competing at the National Professional Arm Wrestling Championships is visibly distressed. Having put everything on the line and realizing that all the dudes competing have arms bigger than Donald Trump's ego, he's not so sure he can win. On top of that, his 1980's Justin Beiber look alike son ran away. Why? One word. Emotion. Hawks starts losing his matches. One more and he'll be out of the competition with nothing but the clothes on his back. Just before his final match, his son returns. Thanks to arm wrestling (not to relationship building) Hawks has won his son over. Proceed to montage of Hawks decimating every opponent over a period of 6 mins. Hawks has won the money, the car, and Justin Bieber. As the two celebrate in front of the crowd, Hawks's father-in-law watches in approval as his son-in-law and grandson celebrate and now go off into the sunset to live the life of truckers together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6141686877589619977?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6141686877589619977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6141686877589619977&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6141686877589619977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6141686877589619977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-demand-satisfaction.html' title='I DEMAND SATISFACTION'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIaW5Y1ZjQI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/QRsDBUJXS14/s72-c/SUNP0086.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-4468946812748866674</id><published>2010-09-03T21:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T22:38:49.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WEB HEAD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIHIzX-WJdI/AAAAAAAAAGI/YFGYQxC6jLE/s1600/SUNP0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIHIzX-WJdI/AAAAAAAAAGI/YFGYQxC6jLE/s320/SUNP0099.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512908203812595154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Imagine swinging through the high rise city scape of New York City. Being able to scale any surface and react to any situation faster than any other person alive. Sounds pretty coo, huh? But what if Spider-Man lived in the real world? Would it still be cool to be Spider-Man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MAN-SCAPING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever wonder how Spider-Man scales those walls? Hair you say? Well you would be correct BUT....and this is a big but, the hair wouldn't be as microscopic as you would expect. If Spider-Man scales a building with clothes on, the body hair has to be long enough to penetrate through the clothing in order to grab at the surface. Doesn't sounds to bad? Think about his feet. If he's wearing thick boots, imagine how long the hair on his feet has to be. Unless you wanna have more body hair than an 80's pornstar, I'm not sure climbing walls is gonna be worth it. If that doesn't convince you, what do you think will happen when you give your BFF a high five? Well with that velcro body hair of yours combined with your super strengh,you may very well rip his arm off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;YOU HAVE WHAT COME OUT WHERE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spins a web any time. How cool would it be to pick up your date by swinging on a giant web? Not only is it sexy and adventurous, but it saves on bus fare, which means you can buy your date one more item off the dollar menu. But being in the real world, all that wrist splooge isn't gonna just cleanly come off your wrist. What if you are wearing long sleeves, and that stuff gets all over your clothes? Well you're gonna look like you just jacked off onto your own sleeves. How many times do you think your girlfriend is gonna let that one slide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OVER WORKED AND UNDER PAID&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saving a damsel in distress sounds like it could be fun, right? At the end of the night you could very well walk away with the phone number of a hot girl. What's wrong with that? What about 20 damsels in distress, 4 balds guys, and an over weight cop who unfortunately had a little "accident" due to the overwhelming stress of the situation. And that's all before the night of the big final you got in Non-Classical Astro Physics. What about rescuing every lost cat in the entire state all before that sexy date you have planned with your significant other? Well I can tell you right now fur balls are not an aprhodisiac and neither is having to give mouth-to-mouth to that bald pimp. What happens when all the over weight, donut-eating cops start to rely a little TOO much on your good deeds? Well I can tell you this much, kiss your you life of LARPING and attending the local ice cream socials with your "special girl" good bye. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4468946812748866674?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4468946812748866674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4468946812748866674&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4468946812748866674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4468946812748866674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/web-head.html' title='WEB HEAD'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIHIzX-WJdI/AAAAAAAAAGI/YFGYQxC6jLE/s72-c/SUNP0099.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-8200234380285090118</id><published>2010-09-02T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T13:47:53.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LOVE PLUS+</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIAEeTDcNfI/AAAAAAAAAGA/_ZkY6uLFZ3A/s1600/SUNP0052.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIAEeTDcNfI/AAAAAAAAAGA/_ZkY6uLFZ3A/s320/SUNP0052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512410862458779122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So as most people know, there are two kinds of weird. There is the weird that comes from not growing up around something (eg. other cultures) and there is the weird that is just plain weird no matter what frame of reference you use (eg. Gary Busey). I will leave the final verdict up to you, but just so you know...this is pretty weird. Or maybe sad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MY GIRLFRIEND IS NOT ON RIGHT NOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Plus+ is a dating simulation game on the DS. Apparently it's very popular among the nerdy and socially awkward, which for some reason seems to only be Japanese men. You may, after all recall some college student (nerd alert!), marrying his virtual "girlfriend". In a rather business savvy move, the game is not sold in countries outside the land of the rising sun.  The publisher realizes that real women are still "in" and that the rest of the men in the world would much rather interact with a woman without the need for a stylus and an extension chord. Me, I like to experiment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ATAMI DOES NOT JUDGE YOU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A former hot spot among love birds back when the word "physical" actually meant something, is now trying to regain some of its former glory by catering to...you guessed it...virtual love birds. "Lucky" guys can rent a hotel room and experience a real life romantic getaway just like in the game..umm, I mean love simulation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 19px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;In Atami, the Love Plus+ fans—mostly men in their twenties and thirties—stand out. Unlike the deeply tanned beach crowd wearing very little, they are often pasty and overdressed for the heat in heavy jeans and button-down shirts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 19px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 19px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" line-height: normal;  font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;This is an actual quote from an article in the Wall Street Journal. No matter how you look at it, these guys give Japanese men a real bad name. The word "loser" comes to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FINAL THOUGHTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a country where the population is actually decreasing (this is true. I heard it from a documentary I watched sometime ago on some channel), having a virtual girlfriend does not sound like a practical idea. Check that. It doesn't even sound fun. The day I fall prey to this is the day I might as well accept the fact that I will never be able to share my DNA with world...you know, by scoring. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-8200234380285090118?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/8200234380285090118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=8200234380285090118&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8200234380285090118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8200234380285090118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-plus.html' title='LOVE PLUS+'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TIAEeTDcNfI/AAAAAAAAAGA/_ZkY6uLFZ3A/s72-c/SUNP0052.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-1066903529871023821</id><published>2010-09-01T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T17:20:38.909-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shaq Quotes'/><title type='text'>DIESEL POWERED</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TH8dWuxAWSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/LKceU5POH9M/s1600/SUNP0080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TH8dWuxAWSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/LKceU5POH9M/s320/SUNP0080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512156745272678690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The last time I did this, I had a great time analyzing the many layers of this man's greatest works. His words are like pearls, coated in platinum, and then wrapped in unicorn fur. Rare and beautiful. The sound of his voice would seduce even the deadliest of sirens. Should beauty, grace, and wisdom be personified, they would be this man. Shaquille O'Neal. Get ready to be schooled.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"BEING MARRIED, I DON'T WANT INTERPLAY OR FOREPLAY WITH ANOTHER MAN. YOU SAY 'HI, HOW YOU DOING?' AND YOU KEEP MOVING."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I am not a married man. I am a single young, strapping, intelligent, and adventurous male (hear that ladies?), but I totally can get what Shaq is going on about. Should I ever be married, I wouldn't want to engage in any kind of interplay or foreplay with any other man. Being single, it's totally cool. Interplay away with your fellow man, but not when you're married. Don't mess around. Just say "Hi" and go about on your business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"TELL YAO MING, 'CHING-CHONG-YANG-WAH-AH-SOH.'"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Diesel never ceases to amaze me. Now I have always known him to be an articulate and educated individual, but a linguist as well? When did this maestro of the English language have the time to tackle and master Mandarin? His tone, grammar, and delivery, were spot on. Are there no limits to this man's greatness? For those of you who are curious, Shaq said, "As the wind touches upon the cheeks of the young child, the sun lights his path ahead." This is a quote from the 15th century Chinese poet, Lee Chin Chong Chan. Shaq, I tip my hat to you. You are the very definition of a cultured man. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I HAVE ORDERS NOT TO COME BACK UNTIL I'M A THOUSAND PERCENT."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not content with devoting his entire mind, body, and soul to the sport, Shaquille O'Neal is determined to multiply 100 percent of his effort by a factor of ten. While us normal people are limited by the skills mother nature has bestowed upon us, Shaq annihilates those limits and gives Mother Nature the bird.  Shaq has transcended to a higher level. More serene and peace loving than the Dalai Lama, more pensive than Rodin's The Thinker, and more graceful than Baryshnikov, Shaquille O'Neal is literally the pinnacle of greatness.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-1066903529871023821?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1066903529871023821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=1066903529871023821&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1066903529871023821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1066903529871023821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/09/diesel-powered.html' title='DIESEL POWERED'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TH8dWuxAWSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/LKceU5POH9M/s72-c/SUNP0080.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-4671121239138976742</id><published>2010-08-31T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T17:10:09.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BEWARE. GIFTS.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TH2Kzpli_OI/AAAAAAAAAFo/EFEaEg_BggM/s1600/SUNP0055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TH2Kzpli_OI/AAAAAAAAAFo/EFEaEg_BggM/s320/SUNP0055.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511714138912652514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gifts are supposed to be great, right? It doesn't matter what the gift is. What is important is the intent behind the actual gift giving. Well, unless you live in the land of sunshine and strawberries, crappy presents do exist. We've all either received them or given them at some point. While by no means the lamest or least imaginative gift, these gifts leave much to be desired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;FROM FATHER TO SON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually when a parent buys a gift for their child they usually go for something simple. A toy, action figure, video games, books...at least something they know their son/daughter will love and find hours of entertainment from. Not Heinrich Hoffman. He said to hell with that and decided to give the gift of discipline to his son one cold and efficient Christmas morning in 1844. Having come to the conclusion that there was no present worth giving to his son (I am sure his son would beg to differ), Psychiatrist Heinrich Hoffman decides to write a bunch of cautionary tales, bind them together and give them to his son. Now I am all for creative and unique hand-made presents, but when the name of the gift is Struwwelpeter (Slovenly Peter) and is a collection of 10 cautionary stories detailing how naughty children will be punished (Play with matches? Burn to death. Suck you thumb? Thumbs get cut off), the idea of a gift certificate for Christmas is beginning to look like the greatest present on earth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FEEL THE BURN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine a Christmas where you're gathered around a huge tree surrounded by 30 of your closest friends and family. Everyone is closely watching what gifts were bought and who they were given to. Now it's your turn. Your first present is not too big but not too small, either. You tear it open and and say, "Ahh, thanks just what I wanted." It's Tony Horton's p90X fitness program. Now the person who gave you the gift says, "I thought it would be useful for you." You put on the fakest smile of your life. Your words say "thank you", but your eyes say" fuck you."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;STUDY STUDY STUDY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This example is very personal to me. Why? Well cause this actually happened to me. Imagine it's Christmas morning (again?). You're 10 years old. It's been an eternity since the Christmas season started and all you want to know is what awesome gift "Santa" gave you this year. You made sure to try hard in your studies, not to give your parents a hard time, and not be a dick to homeless people. You just know Christmas 1994 is gonna be awesome. You're gonna have the best gifts and you're gonna be spending the rest of the day playing with the new Lion-O action set with Sword of Omens accessory. You look under the tree and you see a box with your name. It's a little smaller than you expected. In fact it's really small, but you don't care. You know it's got to be what you have been lusting over for the better part of the year. You rip apart the wrapping like a guido rips apart his shirt at a rave. And there it is. A pencil sharpener. Just like you never wanted. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shout out: HEY Sassmuffin! That's you in the pic. YEAH!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4671121239138976742?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4671121239138976742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4671121239138976742&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4671121239138976742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4671121239138976742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/beware-gifts.html' title='BEWARE. GIFTS.'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TH2Kzpli_OI/AAAAAAAAAFo/EFEaEg_BggM/s72-c/SUNP0055.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6436362887232869193</id><published>2010-08-27T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T02:59:01.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE GREATEST SPORT YOU NEVER HEARD OF</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THiV36EzTGI/AAAAAAAAAFY/zKdY-ETDd1g/s1600/SUNP0068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THiV36EzTGI/AAAAAAAAAFY/zKdY-ETDd1g/s320/SUNP0068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510318931802541154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Curling, cross country skiing, speed walking, and badminton. As riveting, captivating, and engrossing as these sports are, they are quickly becoming standard and run of the mill. Curling used to get me more excited than an evening alone locked in my room with unrestricted internet access, but now, even Whoopi Goldberg gets my heart racing faster than the women of the Swedish curling team. The world needs new sporting events like Justin Beiber needs to hit puberty (ie. urgently). Here are few which are about to take the world by storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROOK TO YOUR FACE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fighting is done in the ring and wars are waged on the board" This is the motto of the World Chess Boxing Organization. That's right. CHESS BOXING. If you find watching a regular chess match mind numbingly slow and think that boxing is best left to uncultured brutes, then this is the sport for you. Get ready for eleven rounds of pure mind brawls. I like to see a computer take on a human in THIS chess match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE LEGACY OF GENERAL BURNSIDE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever think your facial hair is just the awesome-est thing this side of these United States? Well think again, bucko, cause obviously you have not heard of The World Beard and Moustache Championships. This is when the manliest men in the world smear their testosterone all over their faces and make us feeble weaklings with pathetic lip pubes cower in shame at our obvious deficiencies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MAN VS. BEAST&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, in this case it's actually a horse. Besides turning hills into mountains for no other reason than to kill time and to watch Hugh Grant be his bumbling self, the Welsh are also known for having marathon runners compete against mounted horse contestants in a test of stamina and agility. This event started when two guys couldn't figure out if a man could beat a horse in a cross country race. Is no one ever sober in this country?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6436362887232869193?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6436362887232869193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6436362887232869193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6436362887232869193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6436362887232869193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/greatest-sport-you-never-heard-of.html' title='THE GREATEST SPORT YOU NEVER HEARD OF'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THiV36EzTGI/AAAAAAAAAFY/zKdY-ETDd1g/s72-c/SUNP0068.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-3579034391884525733</id><published>2010-08-26T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T17:41:34.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CAUTION: GENIUS AT WORK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THcECAjE2AI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/hO9eFQ8HcZQ/s1600/SUNP0555.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THcECAjE2AI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/hO9eFQ8HcZQ/s320/SUNP0555.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509877101664458754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The steam engine. The cotton gin. The phonograph. Telephones, the light bulb, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Beano&lt;/span&gt; are all some of the world's greatest inventions. Genius can strike at any time and anyone. That "Eureka" moment can be as simple as being hit in the head by an apple or figuring out a more efficient means of phone sex that doesn't involve understanding Morse code. The following are three inventions which make people wonder, "Why didn't I think of that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(DON'T) HEAR ME SCREAM&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you ever wanted to scream your pants off but not want to alert the neighbors to your obvious psychotic episodes? Well Moira and Frank &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Figone&lt;/span&gt; of Belmont, CA, have invented the perfect solution. A face-tube device which allows users to a fix the contraption to their mouths and scream without disturbing others. And all this time I thought my pillow was the best solution. I'm so stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever have that romantic feeling? Your relationship is just starting out. You get goosebumps whenever the object of affection is near, then one day you decide to go for it. You hold their hand and the excitement hits you like a steel-toed boot to the crotch. But what about in cold weather? How on earth can you maintain precious physical contact while strolling down the road on a snowy weekend morning? Each of you wear a pair of gloves and proceed to hold hands? Don't b ridiculous. This is the 21st century. We are no longer incompetent cave men. Enter the courting glove. A pair of gloves knitted together into a single glove. Now you can maintain that contact and still stay warm without looking like a fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TWO-FOR-ONE OR HOW EFFICIENCY CAME TO RULE THE WORLD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you a farmer? Do you constantly find yourself plowing the fields of barley? Are you constantly under the threat of invading forces or evil businessmen looking to take your land from you? What will you do if you home comes under attack while you are plowing the land? Stop and run for your shot gun in you shed? That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. What do you think will happen during the precious few seconds as you speed back to retrieve that firearm. Well the world could end, that's what, and all because you were to short-sighted to be prepared. Well no need to feel like an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ignoramus&lt;/span&gt; any longer. Say hello to the combined plow and gun. Continue to plow the fields as you simultaneously fend off intruders and money-grabbing city folk. The most efficient weapon you will ever have in your arsenal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-3579034391884525733?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3579034391884525733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=3579034391884525733&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3579034391884525733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3579034391884525733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/caution-genius-at-work.html' title='CAUTION: GENIUS AT WORK'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THcECAjE2AI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/hO9eFQ8HcZQ/s72-c/SUNP0555.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6238249661301885365</id><published>2010-08-25T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T03:10:26.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>KAPPAS: THE UNKNOWN DANGER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THXR7hEgp_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/HvSAamKXWyo/s1600/SUNP0004.JPG"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THXR7hEgp_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/HvSAamKXWyo/s320/SUNP0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509540539577444338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Global warming, green house gases, clowns, Twilight. These are many of the issues &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;threating&lt;/span&gt; the human race. The instill fear in the populace and foreshadow a future filled with lawless cannibals and a savage war over the world's remaining natural resources. Many people, however, are unaware of a danger which has been in existence of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;millenia&lt;/span&gt;. The kappa.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;KAPPA-NO-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;KAWA&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;NAGARE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;According to the ancient scrolls (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt;),&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;their bodies are often more like those of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monkey" title="Monkey" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;monkeys&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frog" title="Frog" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;frogs&lt;/a&gt; than &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_being" title="Human being" class="mw-redirect" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;human beings&lt;/a&gt;. Some descriptions say their faces are &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ape" title="Ape" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;apelike&lt;/a&gt;, while others show them with beaked visages more like those of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tortoise" title="Tortoise" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;tortoises&lt;/a&gt; or with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duck" title="Duck" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;duck&lt;/a&gt; beaks. Pictures usually show &lt;i&gt;kappa&lt;/i&gt; with thick &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animal_shell" title="Animal shell" class="mw-redirect" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;shells&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scale_(zoology)" title="Scale (zoology)" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(6, 69, 173); background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;scaly&lt;/a&gt; skin that ranges in color from green to yellow or blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;In other words, they haven't got a clue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;DANGEROUS MINDS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Their troublesome activity ranges from the random annoyance to the outright dangerous and deadly. Not only are they known for stealing crops and kidnapping children, but they also loudly pass gas and look up women's kimonos! I can feel the future just slipping from mankind's fingertips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ACHILLES HEEL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kappas are more of a threat to humanity than let's say cockroaches, locusts, or Jay Leno's chin. Fortunately, nothing is indestructible. Even the great T-1000 was able to be brought down by the one-liners of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Here's the trick. Kappas, while keen on looking up innocent women's kimonos, for some reason obsess over being polite. When confronted by a Kappa, gesture with a deep bow and more than likely, the Kappa will do the same. This is their fatal flaw and weakness. By bowing, water kept in their bowl shaped head will spill out, thus, rendering the Kappa completely paralyzed. Who would have thought that being polite could have such disastrous repercussions. Plus, why would a creature so used to passing gas and kidnapping people be so obsessed with etiquette? Am I missing something here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6238249661301885365?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6238249661301885365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6238249661301885365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6238249661301885365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6238249661301885365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/kappas-unknown-danger.html' title='KAPPAS: THE UNKNOWN DANGER'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THXR7hEgp_I/AAAAAAAAAFI/HvSAamKXWyo/s72-c/SUNP0004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-8512976324820784042</id><published>2010-08-24T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T19:57:52.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RAPID TRANSPORT, YOU SAY?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THSBkEaOzFI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Ev9s2e_eFmQ/s1600/SUNP0005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THSBkEaOzFI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Ev9s2e_eFmQ/s320/SUNP0005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509170700839996498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Many people have used the BART before, and people who know me know that, in my opinion, BART is a poor example of "rapid" public transportation. I pretty much bad mouth BART all the time, but when it comes to going to the city, it's my preferred method, followed by horseback, and plain just not going to the city. Here are my gripes with this poor excuse for public transportation and suggestions for improving its experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PORT-A-POTTY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now this doesn't happen all the time, but enough times for me to notice. Why does some of the train cars smell like urine? Do people seriously get away with peeing in the cars or is there so much accumulated filth that the train cars just smell like an open sewer on a hot day? Solution: If you pee on the train, a government official gets to pee on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do the trains always break down? And when they do, why are we forced to wait in a packed, hot, and stuffy compartment with no ventilation? Solution: Hire Sir Topham Hat and Thomas the tank engine to improve train efficiency in the Bay. If unavailable, hire Germans. Having a German just makes things more efficient. It's one of the laws of nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAMMER, ANVIL, STIRRUP&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it terribly deafening while traveling through tunnels, and don't say, "it's cause you're going through a tunnel". I've been a bunch of different subway stations that travel underground and none of them make me bleed from my ears. Solution, fill the tunnels with jello. Whether or not this reduces the decibel level is beyond me. But wouldn't it be cool to look out the window as you travel through a tunnel of jello?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-8512976324820784042?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/8512976324820784042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=8512976324820784042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8512976324820784042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8512976324820784042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/rapid-transport-you-say.html' title='RAPID TRANSPORT, YOU SAY?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THSBkEaOzFI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Ev9s2e_eFmQ/s72-c/SUNP0005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-7130501038287929761</id><published>2010-08-23T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T15:37:05.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NOT AS COOL AS IT SEEMS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THLx4qND5bI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OeBQYOAoBGc/s1600/SUNP0012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THLx4qND5bI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OeBQYOAoBGc/s320/SUNP0012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508731249931576754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Any awesomely cool guy who grew up reading comic books, buying useless trading cards, and watching totally fantastic 90's cartoon has probably thought "How cool would it be to have Wolverine's powers?" And yes, it would be cool. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized maybe not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE GOOD...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adamantium claws. Bad ass. No homeless drunkard or stupid teen is gonna mess with you when you whip a set of these bad boys out. Guy hitting on your girlfriend? Well not anymore when you humiliate him in front of his cronies by gouging his eyes out and feeding him his own testicles. Your overworked and under paid secretary giving you lip? Show the guy you mean business by feeding him only one of his testicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE BAD...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A heightened sense of smell. Effective for smelling bad guys...though I am not sure if bad people naturally give off an "evil" pheromone. Imagine having an extremely heightened sense of smell. Smelling someone's farts isn't going to be a minor inconvenience in this situation. It's gonna be as if some dude launched a fart grenade straight into your nasal passages. Walking pass an open sewer. Well the guy might as well have taken a dump in your nose given how sensitive you sense of smell is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE UGLY...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regeneration is awesome, but not as awesome when you end up living longer than most Galapagos Tortoises. Now you know people are gonna realize something shady is going on when you show up to your 50th wedding anniversary looking younger than your own grand children. Plus there's having to pretend to croak every 60 or so years so that people don't get suspicious. Then there's the trouble of creating a new identity. And what if scientists get a whiff of your bowels' ability to produce a veritable fountain of youth? Well then you better get used to spending the rest of your life being probed, examined, and dissected. But hey don't worry. At least you're able to live forever, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-7130501038287929761?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7130501038287929761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=7130501038287929761&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7130501038287929761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7130501038287929761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/not-as-cool-as-it-seems.html' title='NOT AS COOL AS IT SEEMS'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/THLx4qND5bI/AAAAAAAAAE4/OeBQYOAoBGc/s72-c/SUNP0012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-314833121942969957</id><published>2010-08-21T02:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-21T03:19:35.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TG-h-KUem1I/AAAAAAAAAEY/VJXYXS_0In8/s1600/SUNP0559.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TG-h-KUem1I/AAAAAAAAAEY/VJXYXS_0In8/s320/SUNP0559.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507798958591613778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So while browsing the web like any pressure filled work day, I came across some rather horrifying pictures. They were pictures of canned foods, but not the kinds you or most other people are used to. No tuna here, nor SPAM, nor baked beans, but some rather unique items. Here are three that really stood out to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONGRATULATIONS, IT'S A CHICKEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now chicken in a can is not so unusual. I mean if they can can chicken of the sea, why not chicken of the land, right? Well, it's a whole chicken in a can slathered with gooey gravy. Now it may not sound THAT bad, but take one quick look at it and it will appear as if a your chicken is covered in placenta. The pale, headless chicken covered in clear jelly makes it a look as though the can just gave birth to a hairless, naked Ron Jeremy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PUT YOUR CAN WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently it's a delicacy in some Eastern European country or village to eat fish mouths since enough people do it to justify canning these things. Now I am not a a food expert but it seems that eating teeth and jaw bone won't exactly provide the nourishment a body needs. I don't know about you, but opening a can and seeing a bunch of what is essentially fish dentures floating around in brown gravy isn't exactly appealing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LET THAT SOAK IN YOUR BRAIN FOR A MOMENT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pork brains in milk gravy. I don't know which puts me off most... "brains" or "milk gravy". Actually the brains I would be willing to try but the milk gravy just sounds icky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out the link to see pics of these wonderful creations and a few extra other canned "foods" : &lt;a href="http://www.oddee.com/item_96711.aspx"&gt;http://www.oddee.com/item_96711.aspx&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-314833121942969957?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/314833121942969957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=314833121942969957&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/314833121942969957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/314833121942969957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/where-did-you-come-from.html' title='WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TG-h-KUem1I/AAAAAAAAAEY/VJXYXS_0In8/s72-c/SUNP0559.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-2978633131942654358</id><published>2010-08-20T02:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T03:03:57.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A WHOLE NEW WORLD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TG5N8ezFJtI/AAAAAAAAAEI/R9eY61_GDTk/s1600/SUNP0376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TG5N8ezFJtI/AAAAAAAAAEI/R9eY61_GDTk/s320/SUNP0376.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507425095775495890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Who doesn't love a good Disney movie. The Lion King, Aladdin, Pocahontas, Beauty and The Beast...all excellent films. Of course, Disney has yet to return to their former glory, but still, the classics are still great no matter what age you are. Recently I have been thinking, or reminded, about how cool it would be if real life was just like a Disney movie. Well, after actually taking time to think about it, I realized three important things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S FOR DINNER?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you know that knack Disney has for making everything non-human, inanimate or not, come to life? Can you imagine the stress of making yourself a simple home cooked meal? The pleas for mercy, the sadness, the horror. You shouldn't have to feel like a genocidal war criminal when making yourself a home grown salad. Even worse...can you imagine taking a dump and having your toilet spring to life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DATE NIGHT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How will I ever get a girlfriend when everyone other dude on the planet is an actual Prince Charming. It's a total buzz kill for us normal guys. If you thought dating was hard for you now...well it's about to get infinitely harder. And if you think looks don't matter in a Disney world, think about this. Not even Quasimodo got the girl at the end of The Hunchback of Notre Dame..AND HE WAS THE HERO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KARMA CHAMELEON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good guys get to be king. Bad guys get tricked into being a genie. Everyone else...well, you're just scenery or the goofy sidekick or guy #3 or maybe even the the heroine's best friend who never gets to find her Prince Charming and has to live out the rest of her miserable existence as a sad old spinster pretending to be happy for your friend when in reality you just want to beat her to death with her own glass slipper. So if you're hoping to make something of yourself, you better make sure the fairy godmother blessed you with a heart of gold..otherwise, you're screwed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-2978633131942654358?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2978633131942654358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=2978633131942654358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/2978633131942654358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/2978633131942654358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/whole-new-world.html' title='A WHOLE NEW WORLD'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TG5N8ezFJtI/AAAAAAAAAEI/R9eY61_GDTk/s72-c/SUNP0376.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-5967165089670833340</id><published>2010-08-18T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T00:27:43.170-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animation'/><title type='text'>THE WALKING DEAD</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gGgEqVkZ60s?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gGgEqVkZ60s?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New video. A humanist deconstruction of Nihilism through an existentialist framework. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-5967165089670833340?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5967165089670833340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=5967165089670833340&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5967165089670833340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5967165089670833340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/walking-dead.html' title='THE WALKING DEAD'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-2251262909820531198</id><published>2010-08-18T00:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T01:05:02.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ROCKY, COLT, AND TUM TUM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGuJ7bq5V_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ET5DeCz5Fq8/s1600/SUNP0544.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGuJ7bq5V_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ET5DeCz5Fq8/s320/SUNP0544.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506646623523526642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Most people have seen this movie, I'm pretty sure. Now I haven't seen this in years, but I have seen it over six times and it has played a vital role in my mental and physical development. Of course, things you thought were awesome as a kid, turn out to be not as awesome as an adult. These are the things from 3 NINJAS which I often look back and reflect on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAIT. HOW ARE YOU GUYS RELATED?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know this is a movie and the people hired are actors, but would it hurt to make the relationships between the actors believable? The granddad is Japanese, so his daughter (the mother of the 3 Ninjas) has got to look a little Japanese, right? Well she looks as Japanese as a Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard draped in the proud Civil War colors of the South.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NINJAS ARE THE ULTIMATE WEAPON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ninjas are cool. No doubt about that. Growing up I have seen every D-grade, low-budget ninja flick and have thought, and still think, each and every one of them is totally awesome. But I'm also not an idiot. How is that guys dressed in black cloth and holding weapons that CANNOT break the sound barrier, easily, swiftly, and efficiently dispose of supposedly highly trained and adequately armed officers? If this movie is to be believed, then ninjas are indeed supremely awesome OR FBI agents are actually so inept that it makes you wonder if they don't just hand out badges hidden cereal boxes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SENSEI. GRANDFATHER.. NINJA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it that a 4'11, 75 year-old-man who dresses up in his shiny blue ninja outfit, which by the way doesn't even mask his identity, is able to stand at a crime scene surrounded by cops, FBI agents, guns and flash lights, and not get taken away in a straight jacket? Well actually, I guess the more important question is how does the FBI manage to look more ridiculous than him?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-2251262909820531198?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2251262909820531198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=2251262909820531198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/2251262909820531198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/2251262909820531198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/rocky-colt-and-tum-tum.html' title='ROCKY, COLT, AND TUM TUM'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGuJ7bq5V_I/AAAAAAAAAEA/ET5DeCz5Fq8/s72-c/SUNP0544.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-4900102400821101296</id><published>2010-08-16T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T21:15:14.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Illustrious Career of Jean Claude Van Damme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGn_bj-BJxI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N9uAfuCp_qY/s1600/SUNP0652.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGn_bj-BJxI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N9uAfuCp_qY/s320/SUNP0652.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506212868414056210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anyone who has ever seen a Jean Claude Van Damme film knows that this man does not get the credit he deserves. I am HUGE fan of the mussels from Brussels and feel like over the past few years, he's been unfairly forgotten and dropped from the Hollywood limelight.  Here's a brief look at his career.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PREPARE FOR AN AHH-TTACK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to Wikipedia, Guile is an American, born in the United States and is a Major in the United States Airforce. Van Damme, however, believed that this generic and flat description of a video game character was too 2 dimensional for the silver screen. So Van Damme, in his infinite wisdom decided to play the character as a United States Air Force Major, born and raised in the U.S. BUT with a Belgian accent. Forget the fact that Van Damme with blonde hair is as natural and everyday as musician Bruce Cockburn's name. Forget the fact that no American in the entire United States speaks English as though it was their third language...and pretty much forget this film ever existed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VARIETY, VARIETY, VARIETY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Van Damme enjoys choosing a wide variety of projects. Projects which help to show his diversity and ability to change his character like a chameleon. In Kickboxer, Van Damme's kickboxing brother was unfairly beat in a muay thai match in Thailand. In order to regain his and his brother's honor, he must compete in a muay thai fight against the man who wronged his family. In Bloodsport, Van Damme must enter an illegal underground fight tournament in order to honor his sick Sensei. In The Quest, Van Damme must secretly enter a fight tournament in order to regain his own honor. In Lionheart, Van Damme must enter an urban underground fight tournament in order to take care of the family his recently deceased brother left behind. What a varied and illustrious career. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4900102400821101296?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4900102400821101296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4900102400821101296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4900102400821101296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4900102400821101296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/illustrious-career-of-jean-claude-van.html' title='The Illustrious Career of Jean Claude Van Damme'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGn_bj-BJxI/AAAAAAAAAD4/N9uAfuCp_qY/s72-c/SUNP0652.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-4403526341984738307</id><published>2010-08-15T23:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T23:50:53.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHAT A GIRL WANTS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGja6890oCI/AAAAAAAAADw/KlVzmbhZlYw/s1600/SUNP0640.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGja6890oCI/AAAAAAAAADw/KlVzmbhZlYw/s320/SUNP0640.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505891250793127970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well according to Teen Dream, Teen Scream, and Teen Beat magazines, it's Justin Bieber. Since the sudden appearance and popularity of The Bieber, the reasons behind his fame has quickly become one of mankind's greatest mysteries easily replacing the greatest of them all, "Is there a god?" Which, by the mere existence of Justin Bieber, the answer is obviously...no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well clearly one of the secrets to wooing a mass of intellectually underdeveloped female tweens is to..well, look like you were just born yesterday. Apparently this guy is 16-years_old. Okay, does anyone believe that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAIR CLUB FOR MEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stylin' hair of a "man" in the music business. Big deal. My hair looks like that everyday when I wake up in the morning AND I don't need to use styling gel to keep it that way. I just use my natural scalp grease to keep it in place for the rest of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROMEO AND WHO?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay...the guy did teach himself how to play the guitar, piano, trumpet, and drums. I will give him that. But does it make sense that this guy sings about his relationship with the "ladies"? It makes as much sense as me rapping about being a CASH MONEY MILLIONAIRE and REPRESENTIN' MY HOMIES. If this kid actually does better with the ladies than I do, well, all hope is lost, I guess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4403526341984738307?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4403526341984738307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4403526341984738307&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4403526341984738307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4403526341984738307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-girl-wants.html' title='WHAT A GIRL WANTS'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGja6890oCI/AAAAAAAAADw/KlVzmbhZlYw/s72-c/SUNP0640.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6626968441225907929</id><published>2010-08-14T23:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T00:21:17.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>STAR FOX APPROACHING</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGeNPsqxEGI/AAAAAAAAADo/44fpAke6XPM/s1600/SUNP0698.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGeNPsqxEGI/AAAAAAAAADo/44fpAke6XPM/s320/SUNP0698.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505524370311811170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;No. Not that Star Fox. I am talking about the little known Marvel super "hero" known as Star Fox, aka. Eros. Well, "what is the big deal with this dude?" you may ask. Well only that his main super power is the ability to stimulate the pleasure centers of an individual's mind. I don't know about you, but I don't see how this "power" helps save the universe from certain evil-doers bent on total domination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STARFOX, MEET MY GIRLFRIEND...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is someone I definitely would not feel comfortable introducing to my girlfriend, sister, or even mother. He's not like the "playa" best friend who you have to worry about as being potential competition. No, this guy takes it to the next level. It's like leaving a bear with a jar of honey, and if Winnie the Pooh has taught us anything, it's that bears slaughter honey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROOFIES? IF ANYTHING THEY SHOULD BE CALLED RAPIES&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clearly I don't have to spell it out for you. Your imagination is doing all the work. Now, it makes me wonder what the hell the writer of this character was thinking. Clearly the dude was a nerd of the highest order and constantly dreamed of being a cross between Johnny Depp and Colin Farrel ( which in scientific terms is dubbed "The Ultimate Cock Block"). With the imagination of a horny 13-year-old kid, Star Fox's writer definitely went all out in making a totally creepy character destined to be featured on "To Catch A Predator".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT'S MY JOB DESCRIPTION&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So besides being a natural born creep, what the hell is this super "hero" capable of doing? You think this guy can hang with the likes of Superman or Batman? I'm pretty sure Wonder Woman wouldn't want to have anything to do with him. I mean this was a character who was even put on trial for sexual assault in his own comic book! Who comes up with this stuff?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 16px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6626968441225907929?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6626968441225907929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6626968441225907929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6626968441225907929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6626968441225907929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/star-fox-approaching.html' title='STAR FOX APPROACHING'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGeNPsqxEGI/AAAAAAAAADo/44fpAke6XPM/s72-c/SUNP0698.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6478260129562899723</id><published>2010-08-14T00:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T18:50:29.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RED CURRENT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGZDZQ1pW2I/AAAAAAAAADg/0IMWqac-QsQ/s1600/SUNP0546.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGZDZQ1pW2I/AAAAAAAAADg/0IMWqac-QsQ/s320/SUNP0546.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505161695802776418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Has anyone seen the movie Crimson Tide? It came out like in 1995, so like 80 years ago. It's a good movie and stars &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Denzel&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Washingotn&lt;/span&gt; and Gene &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hackman&lt;/span&gt;. Now, I don't know anything about life on a submarine or anything like that. But if I ever considered life on one, this movie definitely changed my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SWEAT IS WEAKNESS LEAVING THE BODY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, if the movie is to be believed, you're gonna be spending 24-7 sweating, being sweaty, and being sweat on by other sweaty dudes. The first thing I noticed when I first saw this movie was the sweat. Forget about the Russians, the real enemy here is dehydration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DUDES. AND WAY TOO MANY OF THEM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So certain things are just obvious. You don't have to experience them, but you can kinda assume and you'd be right. But nothing nails the point home better than actually seeing it for yourself. I don't care if this is a movie, there are way too many dudes in such a confined metal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;phallus&lt;/span&gt;. Forget the fact that you can't experience your God given right to breathe in fresh air for 9 months, give me back my personal space. Now, if I had my personal space invaded by an army of Tina Feys, I would not complain. I say that right now. After all, who would? But sharing an area of 3 meters squared with 6 dudes doesn't sound like the kind of life I would like to live especially if I'm someone who CHOSE to leave behind my hot girlfriend for a two year stint living under the sea with with a bunch of dudes who look like Tony Soprano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stress. One slip up and you're gonna be launching depth charges and engaging in an under water zig zagging submarine chase. Let's just say there is no room for a case of the "Mondays" here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6478260129562899723?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6478260129562899723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6478260129562899723&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6478260129562899723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6478260129562899723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/red-current.html' title='RED CURRENT'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGZDZQ1pW2I/AAAAAAAAADg/0IMWqac-QsQ/s72-c/SUNP0546.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-7846193481096727165</id><published>2010-08-12T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T16:03:16.626-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animation'/><title type='text'>DREAM WEAVER</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8J1nEKW7X4M?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8J1nEKW7X4M?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is another video. I spent the last five days working on this one. I tried to mix it up a little instead of just doing straight stop motion stuff. I use the computer in a few scenes, which definitely helps make a cool new look (THANK YOU MICROSOFT PAINT). This piece is a commentary and deconstruction of the human psyche as seen through the frame work of the ego superimposed against the id. ENJOY!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-7846193481096727165?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7846193481096727165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=7846193481096727165&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7846193481096727165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7846193481096727165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/dream-weaver.html' title='DREAM WEAVER'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-6321373765410384680</id><published>2010-08-11T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T20:51:07.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BY YOUR POWERS COMBINED....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGNqIWuWTUI/AAAAAAAAADY/-nprzcN55ro/s1600/SUNP0595.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGNqIWuWTUI/AAAAAAAAADY/-nprzcN55ro/s320/SUNP0595.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504359861348355394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Who doesn't know Captain Planet? Whether or not you religiously followed the show, you know who he is and what he's about. I admit, I had a Captain Planet action figure when I was a kid. Like many others, I was seduced by his gorgeous shiny blue skin, green haired mullet, and his message of environmentalism (well not really). Anyhow, I was just thinking about this show today and well.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR CARDIAC ORGAN IS FULL OF EMOTION&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who doesn't think that Heart is a terrible power? I mean really. Everyone else controls some cool element while a surprisingly pale Amazonian kid wields the power of caring and compassion. What's up with that? Yes, okay. The guy gets to communicate with animals BUT Dr. Doolittle does the same thing but he doesn't need a ring to pull it off. It's like, Gaia ran out of elemental powers and just made one up on the fly. I mean....forcing people to HAVE compassion and to care... I'd rather have the power of shooting meatballs out of my nostrils than the power of forcing people to sympathize any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;COME AGAIN. WHAT'S YOUR NAME?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wheeler. Clearly everyone's favorite Planeteer. Not only does he wield the awesome power of fire, but he's a bad ass cool American. You know the Japanese and Russian girl wanted a piece of the Wheelman. Heck, I'm pretty sure Gaia even had a thing for him. Realistically, that is the only way he could even become a Planeteer. He was so reckless and "bad ass" that no sane person would give him the sole power to control and wield the element of fire in real life. Oh, and his fiery red hair...this show has layers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM CAPTAIN PLANE.......AHH THERE'S GARBAGE ON MY CHEST&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Captain Planet is supposed to be the secret weapon of Gaia and The Planeteers. Just like Voltron wields its sword and Lion-O calls on the Sword of Omens, Captain Planet is only called upon when the Planeteers absolutely need him. But wait. Get any sort of pollution on his chest and his is rendered completely useless. Well that can be kinda tough because you can pretty much find pollution anywhere. What's the use of having a secret weapon against pollution when that weapon can't even survive in an environment that has pollution? Does that make sense to anyone? OH and another thing. The rings are completely useless when Captain Planet is summoned. Who designed this terrible attack plan?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6321373765410384680?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6321373765410384680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6321373765410384680&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6321373765410384680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6321373765410384680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/by-your-powers-combined.html' title='BY YOUR POWERS COMBINED....'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGNqIWuWTUI/AAAAAAAAADY/-nprzcN55ro/s72-c/SUNP0595.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-5511577675314178601</id><published>2010-08-10T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T21:26:57.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU HAD ME AT CHEESE PLATE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGIgKRrRnPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/D6AxZfj6G-k/s1600/SUNP0573.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGIgKRrRnPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/D6AxZfj6G-k/s320/SUNP0573.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503997055515860210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGIfal8z3TI/AAAAAAAAADI/ayZJ9fAO0Qk/s1600/SUNP0597.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So many people say humor is attractive. It's a definite plus in a person's character. The ability to make anyone laugh is never easy but if you can pull it off, it's one of the best ways to get people to like you. So maybe this is why these two lucky ladies have received my eternal affections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHEESE SOUP RESULTS IN EXPLOSION OF THE BOWELS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz Lemon, aka. Tiny Fey, (or vice versa), definitely has my attention. The librarian look is definitely a plus, and if Tiny Fey is even remotely similar to her 30 Rock alto ego, she might as well be the perfect woman. Someone who's idea of a wild time is spending the day at a bird museum in Germany definitely has my attention (and for all the right reasons). And an evening in wrapped in a slanket and eating cheese is definitely a turn on. VERDICT: IDEAL WOMAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PIXIE STICKS AND CANDY NECKLACES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy Poehler. I am definitely jealous of the guy who got to marry her. I am not surprised he snagged this gem of a woman after all, he was in Arrested Development AND plays Banks in 30 Rock. That goofy smile of hers which is similar to an uncomfortable smile any child makes when they poop their pants is priceless. While her clueless character on Parks and Recreation doesn't really compare to Liz Lemon, her air headed antics still generate warm fuzzy feelings in me.  VERDICT: SUB-IDEAL WOMAN, BUT IDEAL ENOUGH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honorable Mention: Rachael Dratch. I don't think I really need to explain this one. She just has "it"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-5511577675314178601?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5511577675314178601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=5511577675314178601&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5511577675314178601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5511577675314178601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/funnysexy.html' title='YOU HAD ME AT CHEESE PLATE'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGIgKRrRnPI/AAAAAAAAADQ/D6AxZfj6G-k/s72-c/SUNP0573.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-1112647244063262344</id><published>2010-08-09T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T21:59:55.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DUDE, YOU NEED SOME SUN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGDYhdGqfJI/AAAAAAAAADA/ybryQyQ7QXQ/s1600/SUNP0718.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGDYhdGqfJI/AAAAAAAAADA/ybryQyQ7QXQ/s320/SUNP0718.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503636813906607250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay..so I was thinking about this recently. WHAT'S UP WITH THE TWILIGHT FAD? Now, before you continue with this entry, Twilight fans please beware. You may be offended by this, and that is intentional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;YOU GOT AN AWESOME BOD. I GOT IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't the werewolf put on a shirt. This dude needs to get over himself and stop being half naked 99% of the time he walks this earth. I get it. Tween girls melt at the sight of this guy's abs, but listen up tweens...you're all stupid. The only time this guy actually pulled off a movie role was when he rapped in Shark Boy and Lava Girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM CONSUMED BY DEEP, DARK EMOTION.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does Bella know how to smile? Does she get that there are worse things in life than being hot for two different people? I mean...doesn't she have to worry about her school? Where are her parents while all this is going on? Do they know she's entangled in a love triangle between someone how is more pale than an albino and someone else who has less personality than a turd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I haven't really seen the movies, I admit. But watching the trailers and commercials on tv causes me to die a little bit each time, so I don't know if I could live through a proper viewing. So to all you tweens out there who are Twilight obsessed.....obsess over something worth obsessing over like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-1112647244063262344?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1112647244063262344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=1112647244063262344&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1112647244063262344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1112647244063262344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/dude-you-need-some-sun.html' title='DUDE, YOU NEED SOME SUN'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TGDYhdGqfJI/AAAAAAAAADA/ybryQyQ7QXQ/s72-c/SUNP0718.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-1447327710652790156</id><published>2010-08-08T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T22:20:39.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SERVED ALL DAY LONG...WAIT. WHAT?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF-MRrEp_mI/AAAAAAAAACw/574bcwUVYic/s1600/SUNP0712.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF-MRrEp_mI/AAAAAAAAACw/574bcwUVYic/s320/SUNP0712.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503271504917954146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now everyone has their opinion of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;McDonalds&lt;/span&gt;. Yes, it is bad for you. Yes, if you eat it regularly, you are condemning yourself to a sweaty, smelly, and inconveniently timed death. Many people, however, will agree that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;McDonalds&lt;/span&gt; does indeed provide some taste-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tastic&lt;/span&gt; burgers. The Big Mac and Fillet-O-Fish are definite classics and I guarantee you will be hard pressed to find people who absolutely hate both of these burgers. There is one, however, that goes unnoticed. The Sausage &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;McMuffin&lt;/span&gt;. Why? '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cuz&lt;/span&gt; it is only sold for breakfast. This is my petition to have it sold ALL DAY LONG.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;IHOP&lt;/span&gt;, DENNY'S, AND THAT OTHER PLACE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All day breakfasts are not uncommon. A bunch of other places have them...SO WHY CAN'T YOU, RONALD MCDONALD?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 TO 5.....WHO HAS TIME FOR BREAKFAST?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most regular people wake up 15 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; before work and arrive 30 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;mins&lt;/span&gt; late. In other words...who has time to buy breakfast food at the local Mickie D's when we're condemned to live 80% of our lives &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;entombed&lt;/span&gt; in a cubicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LARD, SALT, CHOLESTEROL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's face it, the Sausage McMuffin is greasy, gross, and completely bad for you, so serving it all day long is bound to draw even more people to McDonald's. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-1447327710652790156?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1447327710652790156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=1447327710652790156&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1447327710652790156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1447327710652790156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/served-all-day-longwait-what.html' title='SERVED ALL DAY LONG...WAIT. WHAT?!'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF-MRrEp_mI/AAAAAAAAACw/574bcwUVYic/s72-c/SUNP0712.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6933334124306804974</id><published>2010-08-08T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T02:00:37.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I WEAR THAT WHERE?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF5v_YbPK5I/AAAAAAAAACo/My2hUJU3lM0/s1600/SUNP0549.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF5v_YbPK5I/AAAAAAAAACo/My2hUJU3lM0/s320/SUNP0549.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502958929372457874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fanny packs. Why do they get such a bad rap. I mean, they are a useful accessory. I say BRING THEM BACK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AIN'T GOT NO POCKETS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say what? No place to put those keys, wallets, tissues, gums, and phones, but don't want to lug around a giant back pack or shoulder bag? Fanny pack my friend. It's genius construction makes it possible to store so much without taking much room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOW REFINED.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fanny packs come in many styles and colors. Want the simple fanny back basic? Well you can do that. Want a place to separate all your little things into sections? Gosh darn it, YOU CAN DO THAT, TOO! Possibilities are endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT'S QUITE SOME FLAIR YOU HAVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something missing from your outfit? The space around your waist seem a little....empty? FANNY PACK. It can bring an outfit together much better than a simple belt can. Want to go fanny pack classic style? Wear the pack right in front of your belly. That'll let the ladies know you're great dad material. Want a little something for the clubs? Rotate it around your hip. That'll let everyone know you're a hipster who sets trends. Want to appear like an adventurer? Dangerous and mysterious? Simply have the around your lower back. That gives off the "I don't give a damn vibe" mixed in with " 'Danger'? I cannot process THAT word."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me. Throw in a fanny pack into your usual wardrobe and you'll be turning heads for all the right reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6933334124306804974?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6933334124306804974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6933334124306804974&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6933334124306804974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6933334124306804974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-wear-that-where.html' title='I WEAR THAT WHERE?!'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF5v_YbPK5I/AAAAAAAAACo/My2hUJU3lM0/s72-c/SUNP0549.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-5397158014627741071</id><published>2010-08-07T03:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T03:15:11.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COULD YOU GO A LITTLE SLOWER, MAYBE?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF0u8Pc_l8I/AAAAAAAAACg/IsHw4l6bYjI/s1600/SUNP0552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF0u8Pc_l8I/AAAAAAAAACg/IsHw4l6bYjI/s320/SUNP0552.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502605932191782850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Don't you hate it when you're walking (walking with intent, with a destination and time frame in mind) and you're stuck between a couple who have to savor every foot step, every look and feel of the street? And for some reason, no matter how hard you try, they seem to be able to predict your every move and turn and cut you off just when you think you can get by. These are the kinds of walkers that really drive me up the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WADDLE WADDLE WADDLE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;waddlers&lt;/span&gt;. These are the people who feel the need to walk at a speed of half a foot per second. They enjoy taking up the entire amount of free space on the sidewalk or aisle and completely forget about what it means to be "considerate"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;STACCATO STROLL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are the people who are walking in a crowded street and know that there are people following behind them. Yet for some reason, they immediately stop in the middle of the road to look at a bird, fiddle with their purse, say "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;waddup&lt;/span&gt;" to some guy, etc, etc.I MEAN COME ON. Would it hurt so much to make a sidestep before coming to a complete halt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS IS WHERE I LEAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally we come to the people who feel like the best place to quietly wait right in the center of the most crowded part of the street, and for some reason these guys never seem to be alone. They are always in groups. Tourist are notorious for this because, well...they're tourists. BUT THAT IS NO EXCUSE. Whenever I am tourist, I never choose to just lounge about where the most people can get pissed off with me. These are the kind of people who think like to give off the aura "this is me world, get used to it," when in reality they're giving off the "I am an inconsiderate douche" vibe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-5397158014627741071?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5397158014627741071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=5397158014627741071&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5397158014627741071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5397158014627741071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/could-you-go-little-slower-maybe.html' title='COULD YOU GO A LITTLE SLOWER, MAYBE?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TF0u8Pc_l8I/AAAAAAAAACg/IsHw4l6bYjI/s72-c/SUNP0552.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-8700069230484837761</id><published>2010-08-06T01:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T01:45:08.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CAREER DAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFvIYHSRmSI/AAAAAAAAACY/uqOlMapwNOo/s1600/SUNP0560.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFvIYHSRmSI/AAAAAAAAACY/uqOlMapwNOo/s320/SUNP0560.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502211686361307426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Every now and then I catch myself thinking about what kinds of careers would be cool. Like, it I had the ability to do anything I want and the opportunity, what would I want to do. I guess if I knew that definitively, I wouldn't hang around writing a blog only two people (if I'm luck) read. It never hurts, though, to imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ONE ART, PLEASE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An artist would be cool, though, not the struggling kind. The trust fund and not-a-care-in-the-world kind. This would totally give me a reason to dress in duck print sweat pants and a sweat stained wife beater all the while cussing out children for being small and puny, but you see, it's okay. I'm an artist. I am troubled but a genius. Difficult but dark and brooding. I can paint pieces of crap and call it "art" and have people praising me for challenging society and being a trail blazer, and at the same time sip a glass of champagne from my beer stein as I stand in a forest naked and wearing pink bunny slippers, cuz, you know...that's my art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU SUCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Critic. Any critic, it doesn't matter. Criticizing something for its stupidity is always easier and funny than praising it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A-MUSE ME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I inspire thoughts. My genius is that I bring out the genius in others simply be just "being". How cool what that be. Being paid to exist because someone believes you bring out their creativity and imagination. Can you imagine what my resume would look like. MUSE. That's all it would say. I think that wold be pretty cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-8700069230484837761?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/8700069230484837761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=8700069230484837761&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8700069230484837761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8700069230484837761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/career-day.html' title='CAREER DAY'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFvIYHSRmSI/AAAAAAAAACY/uqOlMapwNOo/s72-c/SUNP0560.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6642236580936609153</id><published>2010-08-04T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T17:21:03.386-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shaq Quotes'/><title type='text'>SHAQ-ISMS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFpWcc9FZ2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/NIJH7UzIKDs/s1600/SUNP0298.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFpWcc9FZ2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/NIJH7UzIKDs/s320/SUNP0298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501804941595207522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am not a basketball know-it-all or anything. I do, however, know who Shaquille O'Neal is. He is the genius who happens to also be good at his favorite hobby, basketball. Not many people know this. They just know him for his talent as a basketball player, but I know him for his talent...at thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN"&gt;“But can’t nobody (mess) with me. I’m like toilet paper, Pampers and toothpaste. I’m definitely proven to be effective.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This man definitely knows how to construct a simile, and an especially effective one at that. YES. toilet paper, Pampers, and toothpaste have DEFINITELY been proven &lt;/span&gt;to be effective, thus, according to those proven facts, Shaq has articulately conveyed his effectiveness. What a command of the English language!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Being the best right now doesn’t do anything for my feathers.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT'S GENIUS because (do you get it?) he's not about being the best because that doesn't do anything for his "feathers". His thoughts and observations take you to a higher metaphysical plane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="MsoHyperlink"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;“If they would have had this Internet stuff when I was coming up, I would have been in Harvard by now.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is true. Shaq points out the educational value of the internet. I completely agree with his argument that education has now gotten so much simpler. Learning for the youth has gotten so much easier because of the use of the internet as a study aid. No doubt previous generations of graduates had to sacrifice so much in order to achieve their educational goals. Back then, when you got into Harvard, you earned it. Now, if you got in, it was only because of the internet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6642236580936609153?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6642236580936609153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6642236580936609153&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6642236580936609153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6642236580936609153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/now-i-am-not-basketball-know-it-all-or.html' title='SHAQ-ISMS'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFpWcc9FZ2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/NIJH7UzIKDs/s72-c/SUNP0298.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-3154645675867459424</id><published>2010-08-04T02:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T16:04:16.365-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animation'/><title type='text'>WHAT'S THAT IN THE SKY?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CyPpqqELJTA?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CyPpqqELJTA?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright, so I know in my last video post I said it would be a while before I did another one of these, but I got this idea right after posting the last video, so I couldn't concentrate until I did this one...and here it is. This time it moved a lot quicker than the last video. I guess that's because I actually had an outline before hand detailing each scene, whereas last time I had a general idea of what I was doing, so when it came to taking pictures and moving stuff around I knew exactly what I wanted. This video is a little different than the last one, I guess less goofy since I'm not really in it, but I hope you still enjoy it. By the way....my hard drive...*KAPUT*. Lost my files, pictures, music......AAAARRRGHH. enjoy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-3154645675867459424?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3154645675867459424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=3154645675867459424&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3154645675867459424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3154645675867459424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-that-in-sky.html' title='WHAT&apos;S THAT IN THE SKY?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-8160908360158997159</id><published>2010-08-02T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T23:25:04.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DO YOU HAVE ANY SOMA?</title><content type='html'>So my computer is still not doing too well. It is currently in critical condition, so I will just have to wait and see how everything goes. So again, no pic, but I thought I would share some more of my wonderful thoughts, which I know you are all dying to learn about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been thinking about that Book BRAVE NEW WORLD, which I'm sure everyone here has read. I know this book is supposed to be a a view of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dystopian&lt;/span&gt; future, or what not (I am terrible with metaphor, symbolism and stuff. To me if someone writes something, that is literally what the author is saying. If he says, "The sun is red," it literally means it's a red sun and not that the author is a vampire transvestite. Anyhow, I digress). While reading this book or should I say, while remember what this book was about, I remember thinking that the future sounded pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if you have no choice in what class you'll be in or what career you get to pursue. The guess work is taken out of the equation and someone literally tells you what it is you're best suited for. PLUS, if you're someone who feels like you have to rebel, they give you drugs (or do they mess with your brain?) to make you happy with your life. Doesn't that sound cool. You could be a professional poop scooper and it wouldn't matter to you because you'll be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU GOT THE STUFF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention the drugs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEVEN TO ELEVEN BUT REALLY WE'RE ALWAYS OPEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom line, the world Huxley paints sounds pretty sweet and when it comes to figuring out your destiny in life, someone else just chooses it for you, so it's pretty damn convenient. No more spending decades or even a lifetime thinking "what does it all mean" or "what is my destiny" because...guess what? Some dude with an oily comb over and tight fitting black suit will take the mystery right out for you and tell you you're gonna be spending the rest of your life learning how to be a bag pipe maker and GOSH DARN IT YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an unrelated note...I have noticed that I am beginning to grow chest hair. Am I still going to threw puberty? That would answer quite a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-8160908360158997159?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/8160908360158997159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=8160908360158997159&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8160908360158997159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/8160908360158997159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/do-you-have-any-soma.html' title='DO YOU HAVE ANY SOMA?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-4117727710738312491</id><published>2010-08-01T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T21:44:09.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A PLAGUE UPON BOTH YOUR HOUSES</title><content type='html'>ARRGGGGHGHG. Okay so my laptop is broken and the hard drive maybe totally busted, which means I may lose a bunch of pics and documents...........I AM PRETTY PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW. I am using another computer at the moment which feels dirty and sticky, not like my pretty sleek laptop. So no pic in today's post sinec I can't access my regular computer. I maybe away from this blog for a couple days because of this issue......so don't think I bailed on this thing already. DAMN YOU TECHNOLOGY!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-4117727710738312491?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/4117727710738312491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=4117727710738312491&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4117727710738312491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/4117727710738312491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/08/plague-upon-both-your-houses.html' title='A PLAGUE UPON BOTH YOUR HOUSES'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-1726665918273926317</id><published>2010-07-31T23:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T16:05:15.074-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animation'/><title type='text'>STOP MOTION SERIES CONTINUES!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TC_ATkQ-l34?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TC_ATkQ-l34?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OKAY. So I am very excited about this video. I got the idea for this while I was doing my last one. As much fun as it was making this...it was incredibly tiring, too. It took me a couple days coming up with ideas, and then buying materials, and then cutting everything up. Taking the pictures also took forever since I had to adjust a billion different things in each scene. Well hopefully this will go over well since, by far, this is the best thing I've done. I originally planned for this to be a 5 minute video, but 2 mins was tough enough. I thought I had enough ideas to stretch it into 5 mins, but after a long while, I just wanted to see the final product put together. I probably won't make another one for a while, so ENJOY THIS WHILE YOU CAN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-1726665918273926317?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/1726665918273926317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=1726665918273926317&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1726665918273926317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/1726665918273926317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/stop-motion-series-continues.html' title='STOP MOTION SERIES CONTINUES!!!!'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-72211172750578475</id><published>2010-07-30T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T22:05:49.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I AM TED THEODORE LOGAN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFOoVny4r4I/AAAAAAAAACI/P6teYV2QANU/s1600/SUNP0017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFOoVny4r4I/AAAAAAAAACI/P6teYV2QANU/s320/SUNP0017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499924659362639746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; BILL AND TED. They are awesome. These movies are works of art worthy enough to be mentioned in the same sentence as Godfather, Dirty Harry, E.T., and Street Fighter (the one with Van Damme). Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey should be studied around the world for their sheer brilliance and ability to relate to EVERYONE (everyone awesome that is). Now. I know what some of you may say. Either you haven't seen it yet OR you completely disagree with what I am saying. Well, to you I say, either get off your butt and see it now OR your mind just cannot comprehend the genius of these works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KEANU REEVES&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The casting of this incredibly wooden and unbelievable actor is like finding a quarter and then using that quarter to pay for something that costs exactly 25 cents. IT JUST MAKES SENSE. This is the only time Keanu Reeves has ever been properly cast for a movie role. He's such a natural here that I am fairly certain he wasn't acting and actually believed he was traveling through time in a phone booth and  was playing Battleship against the Grim Reaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PHONE BOOTH TIME MACHINE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simple and elegant, this contraption does not require the power input of 1.21 gigawatts nor does it require the use of the flux capacitor. You just dial in the time period you want to travel to and make sure that nothing messes with the antennae on the top of the booth, and BHAM, you're picking up Napoleon and dropping him off at the local bowling alley before you can say "Wyld Stallions".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WORLD PEACE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill and Ted are solely responsible for world peace. If it weren't for them, the world would be stuck in a post apocalyptic world fighting off mutant elephants and and listening to the endless nagging of basket weaving hippies continuously chanting, "I told you so."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-72211172750578475?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/72211172750578475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=72211172750578475&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/72211172750578475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/72211172750578475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-am-ted-theodore-logan.html' title='I AM TED THEODORE LOGAN'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFOoVny4r4I/AAAAAAAAACI/P6teYV2QANU/s72-c/SUNP0017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-25257920045083950</id><published>2010-07-29T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T23:33:07.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHOA, I KNOW KUNG FU.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFJSMd7KsSI/AAAAAAAAACA/xyJxy_zBWh0/s1600/SUNP0010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFJSMd7KsSI/AAAAAAAAACA/xyJxy_zBWh0/s320/SUNP0010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499548469117497634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Something is missing from today's movies. Remember back in the day when heroes would gain useful knowledge, skills, and abilities with a rockin' soundtrack playing in the background? That's right, it's the training montage. The training montage is essential if the hero hopes to have any chance to conquer the villain and his evil henchmen. 30 minutes before the hero begins his kick ass beat down, he enters an empty warehouse, turns on some White Snake, then trains for a full 3 minutes and 45 seconds. During these precious moments, the hero gains the powers, both mental and physical, to get the job done. Dolph Lungren had a training montage in Showdown in Little Tokyo. Sylvester Stallone had them in Rocky, Rocky II, Rocky III, Rocky IV, and Rocky Balboa. Jean Claude Van Damme learned to turn his splits into a deadly weapon while filming his montage for Kickboxer. Even Daniel Laruso had one when he was learning from the great Mr. Miyagi, building custodian and general rocker of the fake Japanese accent (yes, it was fake).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In movies now, I don't see the montage being utilized anymore, at least not in the way it was back when guys were kicking butt shirtless, oiled up, and with the inability to live according to the laws of being shot at by gun fire. Keanu Reeves rocked the montage in The Matrix, but that montage consisted of him being strapped to the dungeon master's iron maiden and having thoughts of kicking butt put into his head as he grimaced and squirmed like he was trying to fart without letting anyone notice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The montage needs to make a come back. Not only does it serve as a prologue to ass kicking, but it genuinely gets the audience pumped up. It let's them know that everything up to that point was just guys messing around but past this point, the shit gets real. I highly encourage montaging in real life, too. Just play "Eye of the Tiger" of "You're the Best" and let the confidence just overcome you. You'll feel pretty amazing afterwards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-25257920045083950?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/25257920045083950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=25257920045083950&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/25257920045083950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/25257920045083950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/whoa-i-know-kung-fu.html' title='WHOA, I KNOW KUNG FU.'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TFJSMd7KsSI/AAAAAAAAACA/xyJxy_zBWh0/s72-c/SUNP0010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6937580768077383716</id><published>2010-07-29T00:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T22:51:40.476-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animation'/><title type='text'>STOP THAT MOTION!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-a7326f992c848d6b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Da7326f992c848d6b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329971905%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D61523D8E4271A41EC7E1F2B87A5485926B6CA6E5.74BD1920E2FC6E7BBDA71176C436E2D050468594%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Da7326f992c848d6b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D3Rs-pimMzqcvT1RUu8wptRgch-Q&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v12.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Da7326f992c848d6b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329971905%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D61523D8E4271A41EC7E1F2B87A5485926B6CA6E5.74BD1920E2FC6E7BBDA71176C436E2D050468594%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Da7326f992c848d6b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D3Rs-pimMzqcvT1RUu8wptRgch-Q&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today's post is a little different. I had the urge to make a masterpiece last night, so I set out to do it this afternoon. Well, actually, I was just bored and was looking for a way to the pass the time in a totally awesome and emo way. In case any one is interested, it took me about 3 hours to make this video. It took me about an hour and a half for the actual filming and another hour and a half to piece everything together. Altogether I took about 300 some odd pictures, so you're looking at one picture every 1/2 second. I already have plans to create something cool and slightly more elaborate than just moving stuff around. If you pay attention, you can actually see me in a reflection in a coupe scenes and actually notice some of the equipment I used to do some of the stuff I did. I don't want to say. Try and see if you can find those flubs of mine. ENJOY THIS ONE!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6937580768077383716?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6937580768077383716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6937580768077383716&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6937580768077383716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6937580768077383716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/stop-that-motion_29.html' title='STOP THAT MOTION!!!'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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-8797769873268581304.post-3658811136324003659</id><published>2010-07-28T02:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T03:09:23.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THAT'S NICE, BUT HERE'S MY IDEA.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE_44RChw6I/AAAAAAAAABU/TdSivl-sM5I/s1600/SUNP0034.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE_44RChw6I/AAAAAAAAABU/TdSivl-sM5I/s320/SUNP0034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498887315573031842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So for a while I've been thinking about why it's women who generally spend most of their life picturing their ideal wedding. I mean, I guess I get WHY women dream about this stuff, but why is it that men don't? "Well it's because it's a girl thing..." you may be saying, but that's only because most people have already accepted the "standard" white wedding scene and therefore go with the flow. Guys have come to accept that it's more of a big deal for their future wives rather than something they should really have a hand in creating. Now, I am a part of this school of thought...that is if you go for the cookie cutter white wedding. Lately, though, I've been asking myself, "Why can't this be a day to show case the groom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WELCOME TO A GUY'S WEDDING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TUXEDO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why go for the standard penguin suite? If the bride is the one wearing a white dress, why can't I wear a purple velvet tuxedo with a soft crimson red velvet bow tie with a shirt with all those 60's frilly foofs along the chest? Also give me one of those soft mink cloaks kings usually have. I need something that drapes so I look more awesome as I stroll down the aisle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RING BEARER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who says the ring bearer has to be this adorable kid from some family member you never even realized existed? Give me one full grown adult Bengal tiger with a top hat and neck tie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WEDDING SONG&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song...you all know it. Why does it always have to be that song? I am pretty sure the composer didn't write it specifically for weddings. So in my wedding scenario, I will be walking down the aisle so that everyone one can see how super fly I am in my get up. Now there is only one song that makes sense as I walk down the aisle or should I say one band....DRAGON FORCE. It's gonna be an amazing walk down the aisle, my friends. There will be lasers, fire works coming up from the floor and falling down from the ceiling. There will be hot girls dressed in tight leather escorting me to my bride to be. I will also have a walking stick with a giant diamond on the top, because, let's face it, it's just cool. OH...and don't forget the monocle I'll be rockin' for the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RECEPTION&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, the reception is pretty standard. Food, music, cake, but I say, give the people something they can really enjoy. I can't tell you how many times I've been to a wedding as a regular guest and have it SUCK. No date, no good music, no fun. Not at my wedding. I care for my guests. That is why there will be a petting zoo, spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven, and kegs of champagne. Too often people show up to a wedding without really knowing anyone...THAT'S BORING. Single guys become randomly paired with single girls. Then those pairs challenge other pairs to drinking games. CAN THIS BE MORE AMAZING?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WEDDING TRINKETS (OR PARTY FAVORS)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want a picture showing me how disgustingly in love the wedding couple are. I don't need a reminder of THEIR perfect day. I know what people want. GRILLZ. Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JUST MARRIED!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, we can leave in a limo. Limos are cool. A regular car, sure. That's fine, too. Can's attached to the back of the car? Not the most original, but sure. But I don't want to be just fine with it. I want to be blown away from it. That's why when it's all said and done, me and my woman are driving away in GRAVE DIGGER with a bunch of minis dragging behind us as we drive away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-3658811136324003659?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/3658811136324003659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=3658811136324003659&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3658811136324003659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/3658811136324003659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/thats-nice-but-heres-my-idea.html' title='THAT&apos;S NICE, BUT HERE&apos;S MY IDEA.'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE_44RChw6I/AAAAAAAAABU/TdSivl-sM5I/s72-c/SUNP0034.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-2998259838916364475</id><published>2010-07-27T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T03:42:42.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU DONE CHECKING YOUSELF OUT?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE6xsr0N2HI/AAAAAAAAABM/r3CetB34lqc/s1600/SUNP0076.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE6xsr0N2HI/AAAAAAAAABM/r3CetB34lqc/s320/SUNP0076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498527576300050546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for those of you who have ever stepped into a gym, you may already know this. For others, this is something to be aware of should you find yourself stepping into one for the first time. If you're like me and you want to get in and out without wasting any of your precious time, then you're gonna need a plan to avoid the douchey dudes who enjoy saying they workout in the gym because they think girls find this impressive but don't really do anything in terms of actually working out (by the way, girls, DO YOU find this impressive? If so, wanna touch my tree trunk neck?). "Why on earth would he be making a big deal about this?" you may be asking. Well it's simple. These guys are take up precious space in what is already a rather small gym area, they loiter and waste MY time, and they are pretty douchey ( In case you're wondering how I determine this, it is a thorough and complete analysis based entirely on an individual's looks.  That's how I roll). So...how do you spot these annoying little critters.....well I am glad you asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. It could be the dead of winter with a 60 mile per hour wind, snow storm, and a plague of locusts, but they'll still show up with as little clothing around the upper body area as possible. The ultimate of this look is when you see an individual sporting a perfectly good t-shirt where he not only cut the sleeves, but pretty much almost all the material around the chest and back, except for the collar of the shirt and tiny slivers of material hanging down from the front and back. At this point it's no longer a shirt but a scarf 1 meter long and 5cm wide fashionably draped around the torso. Why even bother wearing a shirt if you've thrown away all the stuff that actually made it a t-shirt in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. These guys constantly stare at themselves in the mirror and touch their chest and biceps in hopes that their muscles will become bigger and more ripped before their very eyes. I've seen plenty of these kinds of guys spend 7/8's of their workout visualizing themselves having the ultimate body. I don't know exactly where sports science is today, but I'm pretty sure positive thinking and imagination doesn't count as a workout. It's pretty much just mental masturbation in full on action. I've wasted plenty of time watching these guys get off on watching themselves in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. They hover in groups. These guys don't travel solo....they travel in douche packs. You will never see one guy doing the above solo. If you do, it's a trap. His compatriots are most likely hiding behind the corner occupying more space in front of a mirror and wearing even flimsier and more useless t-shirt shreds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah...BE WARNED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-2998259838916364475?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/2998259838916364475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=2998259838916364475&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/2998259838916364475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/2998259838916364475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/excuse-me-are-you-done-checking-youself.html' title='EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU DONE CHECKING YOUSELF OUT?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE6xsr0N2HI/AAAAAAAAABM/r3CetB34lqc/s72-c/SUNP0076.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-242661006658449224</id><published>2010-07-26T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T03:44:05.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DO WE GET TO WIN THIS TIME?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE3_YOre9nI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Wjj2YtovYK0/s1600/SUNP0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE3_YOre9nI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Wjj2YtovYK0/s320/SUNP0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498331511811667570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was going through my DVD collection the other day looking for any movie I was willing to part with and donate to charity (I care about the children), and came across a gem of a movie. Something that was celebrated during its time, but, unfortunately, is now condemned to constant ridicule but uneducated losers. Yes, I am in fact talking about Rambo: First Blood Part II. I will start with the obvious. The title. Now, the first Rambo flick was known as First Blood. For those who are unaware, the reason Rambo goes into ass-kicking mode is because the cops were harassing him first...they drew first blood. So naturally my man The Italian Stallion himself had to check that shit. RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II. It's genius because Rambo's enemies are drawing first blood...AGAIN! That lets you know that this shit is real. Rambo got dissed twice by multiple ass holes and is gonna bring down the hammer of ripped muscular justice.&lt;br /&gt;       Now I could go on all day about the awesomeness of the movie title, but I will skip some of that and delve straight into the REAL intellectual stuff. Rambo, now in prison, is tasked with rescuing forgotten &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;POWs&lt;/span&gt;. He's not alone, though, he has a hot local guide who helps him navigate the dense jungle, his iconic red bandanna, his Buddha necklace choker, a bow with a bunch of arrows with explosive tips, his trusty knife, and a bunch of dead bodies in his wake. Now to be fair, he only kills these guys because he ran out of bread crumbs and let's face it, it's the jungle. It's not real easy to find your way back home.  Along the way he accomplishes his task but not without consequences. The hot female guide (who now has been established as his soul mate after a 45 min trek through the jungle with little talking but plenty of hot, sweaty hiking), has suffered a fatal blow. Now, this is where the baddies draw first blood the second time. To add insult to injury, he's left behind by Murdoch, a character with no balls and sweats way too much to comfortably wear the clothes he is wearing. Cue awesome soundtrack with what sounds like a rattlesnake that's pissed off and plenty of rippling muscles hiding in mud, coming out of mud, hiding in more mud (this time intentionally), and then killing Russians.&lt;br /&gt;       Another awesome fact of this movie is how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-tactical  Rambo dresses. His tactical &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;apparel&lt;/span&gt;  consists of boots (perfect for  hiking), cargo pants (perfect for storage), and no shirt (perfect for  glistening muscles). You see, this is in fact a SMART move since the  glare bouncing off his sweaty bod will affect the sight of the bad guys  by temporarily blinding them with glare; thus, providing Rambo with  precious moments to kill with extreme prejudice. Oh I forgot to mention,  the bandanna also helps keep his hair and sweat out of his eyes. That's  pretty important, too.&lt;br /&gt;      So these are just some of the main points that justify Rambo: First Blood Part II as being regarded as art, preserved in The Library of Congress, and held in such high esteem as to make Leonardo Da Vinci himself jealous. By the way, this is a pic of a fan in my kitchen. I basically had a green filter on and messed with the color a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-242661006658449224?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/242661006658449224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=242661006658449224&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/242661006658449224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/242661006658449224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/do-we-get-to-win-this-time.html' title='DO WE GET TO WIN THIS TIME?'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE3_YOre9nI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Wjj2YtovYK0/s72-c/SUNP0036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-5653072823541115185</id><published>2010-07-26T03:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-26T03:47:45.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I HATE HER COCKROACH SHAPED SPLOTCH</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE1jsUOwSXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/EbryYm2XsVs/s1600/SUNP0075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE1jsUOwSXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/EbryYm2XsVs/s320/SUNP0075.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498160333085231474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have any of you guys seen 500 Days of Summer? I'm pretty sure by now, must people have since it caused a bit of a hub bub when it first came out. I saw it again for the second time earlier tonight and have to say...as much as I loved it the first time round, I thought it was even better after a repeated viewing. Anyone else think that the girlfriend character was kinda a douche for leading on Joseph Gordon Levitt by dancing with him at a wedding and then inviting him to her party AFTER she said she ONLY wanted to be friends? It was a total bummer seeing the the guy's expectations play alongside what really happened. If I was the guy, I would have grabbed the girl's engagement ring after seeing it and then thrown it off the roof, then immediately proceed to get the hell out of there. I do have to say, though, I would never pretend to play house in an Ikea. In real life I would just feel stupid, and if a girl I was dating did do this, I would pretty much give her the "Really? You want me to act like a weirdo in Ikea?" expression and then walk out and just binge on some Ikea Swedish meatballs till I spot someone else with less of a desire to demonstrate their imagination in public places. In fact, I'd still feel stupid doing something like that if it were just the two of us.....does that mean I am not romantic enough? Can't be.....I POSTED A PICTURE OF FLOWERS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-5653072823541115185?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5653072823541115185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=5653072823541115185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5653072823541115185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5653072823541115185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/have-any-of-you-guys-seen-500-days-of.html' title='I HATE HER COCKROACH SHAPED SPLOTCH'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TE1jsUOwSXI/AAAAAAAAAA0/EbryYm2XsVs/s72-c/SUNP0075.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-5038038895549748280</id><published>2010-07-25T15:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T15:12:41.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SAY WHAT?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEy1S96GttI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Q33x8oSabEs/s1600/SUNP0060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEy1S96GttI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Q33x8oSabEs/s320/SUNP0060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497968582573078226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so since first crafting and designing this most elegant and most interesting blog, I thought I was some what of a lyrical wordsmith when I came up with the term "Phlogger" or "Phlogg". Well, it turns out my incredible creative idea has well, been already thought of by a bunch of other people quite some time ago. Argh. Well I can honestly say it feels like a great deal of my thunder has been taken away from me since the terms "Phlogg" and "Phlogger" were the only things that were really cool about this blog. I guess from now on I have to actually rely on taken good pics and writing things people actual want to read. Hmmm, I see a short-lived feature ahead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-5038038895549748280?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/5038038895549748280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=5038038895549748280&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5038038895549748280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/5038038895549748280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/say-what.html' title='SAY WHAT?!'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEy1S96GttI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Q33x8oSabEs/s72-c/SUNP0060.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-6190694812571397121</id><published>2010-07-25T00:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T17:07:34.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>POST NUMERO UNO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEvnwPu2p0I/AAAAAAAAAAk/sRbnxzIJzjE/s1600/SUNP0049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEvnwPu2p0I/AAAAAAAAAAk/sRbnxzIJzjE/s320/SUNP0049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497742586178611010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this is my very first post....ALL RIGHT! From the looks of things I have TWO followers. This thing is definitely catching on like wild fire. My first official entry and I am already out of ideas. Oh....so this picture...how does it inspire me. Well I took this in my backyard and it's a pic of an apple tree. I just looked up and snapped. Pretty cool, huh? (Please post all your praise in the comment section)  What does it inspire me to write about? THE NEW TRON LEGACY TRAILER!!!!! Omg. Okay, now I have never seen the original Tron but I know the basic premise. The Dude (if you know who this is,  you get awesome points, if not, you're a fascist) gets sucked into a video game and has to battle other guys wearing luminous, tight fitting suits, which leave nothing to the imagination. That's pretty much the entire movie right there. BUT the new Tron movie...oh man, gave me a total nerd-gasm. This is something that cannot be described in words, which I guess renders this entire post useless since I will not be explaining it or describing it in any way......whatever. Isn't this a cool pic?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-6190694812571397121?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/6190694812571397121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=6190694812571397121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6190694812571397121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/6190694812571397121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/so-this-is-my-very-first-post.html' title='POST NUMERO UNO'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEvnwPu2p0I/AAAAAAAAAAk/sRbnxzIJzjE/s72-c/SUNP0049.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8797769873268581304.post-7961312323614058113</id><published>2010-07-23T20:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T20:12:59.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IT HAS BEGUN!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEpYldOOEII/AAAAAAAAAAM/jBCUSy43G0k/s1600/SUNP0014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEpYldOOEII/AAAAAAAAAAM/jBCUSy43G0k/s320/SUNP0014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497303695681785986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to PHLOGGER!!!! So yeah...I have some thoughts that need to be released upon the world like a zombie virus. So in order to make MY blog different from the other guys, I decided to invent something completely new and amazing. IT'S CALLED A PHLOGG. "What is a Phlogg ?" you ask. Simple. I will post pics that inspire my thoughts and then rant alongside said pics. These pics are all MY creation...so any praise should be sent my way. Anything else...keep to yourself. So that's it.......I CREATED THE WORLD'S FIRST PHLOGG. Oh and I took that pic in my kitchen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8797769873268581304-7961312323614058113?l=phlogger-blog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/feeds/7961312323614058113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8797769873268581304&amp;postID=7961312323614058113&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7961312323614058113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8797769873268581304/posts/default/7961312323614058113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://phlogger-blog.blogspot.com/2010/07/it-has-begun.html' title='IT HAS BEGUN!'/><author><name>Phlogger</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10851639121321915544</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3tFCeZKcZr8/TEpYldOOEII/AAAAAAAAAAM/jBCUSy43G0k/s72-c/SUNP0014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
