<?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-2476276196194933790</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:02:58.210-08:00</updated><category term='dream girl'/><category term='sad'/><category term='monkeys'/><category term='making friends'/><category term='pride'/><category term='hot tub'/><category term='walnuts'/><category term='christmas'/><category term='old men'/><category term='verbs'/><category term='phil mickelson'/><category term='ADD'/><category term='gifts'/><category term='water'/><category term='fudge'/><category term='burned neck'/><category term='ADHD'/><category term='ear candle'/><category term='regifting'/><category term='family'/><category term='lesbian'/><category term='crawfish'/><category term='Mini-disc'/><category term='maintenance'/><category term='children&apos;s songs'/><category term='Obama'/><category term='andrew'/><category term='happiness'/><category term='President'/><category term='work'/><category term='sexy'/><category term='pruned fingers'/><category term='embarrassing'/><category term='potatoes'/><category term='friends'/><category term='president obama'/><category term='racism'/><category term='obesity'/><category term='astro'/><category term='names'/><category term='hoped-for girl'/><category term='half-marathon'/><category term='jetsons'/><category term='president bush'/><category term='Boogers'/><category term='golf'/><category term='spaceballs'/><category term='cleft pallet'/><category term='metro'/><category term='Camille'/><category term='dream'/><category term='racket'/><category term='grief'/><category term='Euro'/><category term='Gifted'/><category term='international relations'/><category term='terrorism'/><category term='pranks'/><category term='Estee'/><category term='mission'/><category term='time'/><category term='publicity'/><category term='golf cart'/><category term='raqcuetball'/><category term='jumping on the bed'/><category term='beans'/><category term='Amero'/><category term='running'/><category term='Iran'/><category term='stitches'/><category term='bandwagon'/><category term='food'/><category term='roommates'/><category term='Talented'/><category term='butt-cheeks'/><category term='chivalry'/><category term='vote'/><category term='mp3'/><category term='split pants'/><category term='seat'/><category term='identity theft'/><category term='sadness'/><title type='text'>DLUX Life</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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>54</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-1819643151750549646</id><published>2010-08-10T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T10:51:58.167-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='racism'/><title type='text'>Oh good... I was worried that I was a racist for a minute there!</title><content type='html'>So, I am in Rite Aid at the Crystal City metro stop and I am perusing the shelves. I noticed that the black woman standing at the end of the aisle looked a lot like the lady that works in the office right next to mine. Just as the thought entered into my head that she looked like Tina, I kicked myself. I thought to myself, 'David, that is so racist! Not all black people look alike!' Then the lady glanced up and saw me looking at her, smiled at me and said, "Hi, David." Turns out it really WAS the lady that works next to me. I was pleased to not be a racist after all. Also, I need to remember to wear my glasses more often...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1819643151750549646?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1819643151750549646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1819643151750549646' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1819643151750549646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1819643151750549646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/oh-good-i-was-worried-that-i-was-racist.html' title='Oh good... I was worried that I was a racist for a minute there!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-8454073364602000891</id><published>2010-08-03T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T13:23:35.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Folk</title><content type='html'>Does anyone find it curious that the word "Crotchety," "Croquet," and "Crochet," are so similar? They all seem to be tied to old people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example:&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;strong&gt;crotchety&lt;/strong&gt; old man was playing &lt;strong&gt;croquet&lt;/strong&gt; while the &lt;strong&gt;crocheting&lt;/strong&gt; old woman watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I am just saying...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-8454073364602000891?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8454073364602000891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=8454073364602000891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/8454073364602000891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/8454073364602000891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/old-folk.html' title='Old Folk'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-3396219663820926997</id><published>2010-07-25T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T09:31:01.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why is this logo on shoes?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExmmI_5kII/AAAAAAAABGk/PY_Peas6P2c/s1600/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+19.57+%233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExmmI_5kII/AAAAAAAABGk/PY_Peas6P2c/s320/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+19.57+%233.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497882050549092482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left" style="text-align:left"&gt;Remind you of anything?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left" style="text-align:left"&gt;On the same flight as the last post was about while looking through Skymall magazine, my neighbor pointed out that the logo on a pair of shoes in the magazine was ridiculous… What do you think? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="left" style="text-align:left"&gt;I read everything the magazine had to say about the shoes and nowhere did it talk about reproductive systems…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-3396219663820926997?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3396219663820926997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=3396219663820926997' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3396219663820926997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3396219663820926997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/why-is-this-logo-on-shoes.html' title='Why is this logo on shoes?!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExmmI_5kII/AAAAAAAABGk/PY_Peas6P2c/s72-c/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+19.57+%233.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-9199829452689196966</id><published>2010-07-25T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T09:14:46.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Year Old on the Flight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;You would think there was a three year old sitting behind me on this plane. About every 15 minutes it feels like she is just punching the back of my seat. I look back and see the 40-something lady that is actuallybehind me. She smelled like alcohol before she got on theplane and she asked for 2 beers when the cart came around. When the plane shakes a little she starts talking loudly toherself. It is not cute. In stark contrast the actual three year old sitting beside me is adorable and very well behaved. She has satquietly and when she has spoken it is pleasant and often very funny. It amazes me the stark contrast between the “little girl”behind me and the little girl next to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;we had some fun with photobooth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExg-0TYnkI/AAAAAAAABGM/GefXlIHc3_k/s320/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+19.57+%234.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497875877420637762" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExhxb2MOsI/AAAAAAAABGU/IZlBQHd8bqk/s320/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+20.13+%232.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497876747029068482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExiVfSEBPI/AAAAAAAABGc/3gD_zpcyI4Q/s320/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+20.30+%232.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497877366426567922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-USfont-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;br /&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/2476276196194933790-9199829452689196966?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9199829452689196966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=9199829452689196966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9199829452689196966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9199829452689196966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/three-year-old-on-flight.html' title='Three Year Old on the Flight'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/TExg-0TYnkI/AAAAAAAABGM/GefXlIHc3_k/s72-c/Photo+on+2010-07-24+at+19.57+%234.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-9035085626616495242</id><published>2010-06-14T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T10:23:06.074-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='metro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chivalry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lesbian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seat'/><title type='text'>Role Confusion</title><content type='html'>Question: If a lesbian couple gets onto a crowded metro and there is one seat left, which of the two gets to sit down?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the exact situation that happened on the metro the other day. A couple was arguing about who got to sit down in the seat next to me while the other one stood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess if I was a part of a lesbian couple I would make sure that we decide these things beforehand so we don't make a scene in public. How &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt; for them. Of course a lot of things would have to be very different in order for that scenario to involve me anyway...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-9035085626616495242?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9035085626616495242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=9035085626616495242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9035085626616495242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9035085626616495242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/06/role-confusion.html' title='Role Confusion'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-4361418224998809214</id><published>2010-06-10T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T11:11:20.686-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sadness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happiness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>It is said that &lt;strong&gt;"Time &lt;/strong&gt;heals all things." I think that of all the things in the world that are tricky and fluster me in any way &lt;strong&gt;time &lt;/strong&gt;is the most obstinate of them all. When you are happy and having fun time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;speeds&lt;/span&gt; up so you don't get to enjoy the fun as long. When you are grieving, time is the only thing that can make you feel better but it goes so slowly that being healed and happy again seems a million years away. In my mind it should be the other way around. Time should fly by when you are grieved and slow way down when you are having fun. That way sadness will seem to last only a moment and your happy times will seem to never end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-4361418224998809214?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4361418224998809214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=4361418224998809214' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4361418224998809214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4361418224998809214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/06/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-5920878174049343528</id><published>2010-05-10T01:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T01:26:50.559-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pranks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='identity theft'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='publicity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phil mickelson'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='golf'/><title type='text'>Free Publicity</title><content type='html'>I decided tonight that if I was a golfer right now I would change my name. It is not that I don't like my name. In fact, I love it. I just was thinking that if I was a golfer having the name "Mick Ilson" it would be very advantageous. People would be like, "When is Mickelson teeing off?" And people would answer, "OH, Mick Ilson? He's teeing off at 9" Then people would show up to see me tee off and be like, "Oh, haha. Funny. I wanted to see Mickelson. Oh well, I guess I will just watch this Mick Ilson guy play."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deep inside I would know that all my fans really wanted to see Mickelson play golf but I think it wouldn't matter to me. It would always make me chuckle at every hole and it would remind me that golf is supposed to be fun. And hey, who doesn't like a good prank that involves tricking other people, right? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;haha Mick Ilson... it's funny because it sounds like Mickelson...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5920878174049343528?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5920878174049343528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5920878174049343528' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5920878174049343528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5920878174049343528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/05/free-publicity.html' title='Free Publicity'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-5118789293908035711</id><published>2010-03-17T16:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-17T16:16:19.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Perfect Storm</title><content type='html'>Something I feel that happens too often is when you get one of those little 2 packs of Starbursts and there is a yellow and an orange together. It's like the "perfect storm" that no one likes to see. Perhaps I just notice it more because I am so disappointed when it happens. I usually like to try and guess which colors you'll find inside those little packages. I always hope for what I like to call "the jackpot." That is when you get a pink and a red. Those are delicious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5118789293908035711?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5118789293908035711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5118789293908035711' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5118789293908035711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5118789293908035711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/03/perfect-storm.html' title='The Perfect Storm'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-7019400804236007385</id><published>2010-01-28T08:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T08:45:12.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Vid</title><content type='html'>Here is a link to the video mentioned in the previous post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://youcanhavemynumber.blogspot.com/2010/01/best-geocache-ever.html"&gt;Ben and Susannah's engagement video.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to warn you that you will probably cry... I mean obviously&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; didn't cry...I am a man...I have hobbies...I work out...I don't cry. However, I know of a few others who have cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a warning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://youcanhavemynumber.blogspot.com/2010/01/best-geocache-ever.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7019400804236007385?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7019400804236007385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7019400804236007385' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7019400804236007385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7019400804236007385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/01/vid.html' title='The Vid'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-1138253904906929463</id><published>2010-01-20T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T12:20:17.562-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Buried Treasure</title><content type='html'>The other day i get a call from Josh. He called to tell me that our good friend Benjamin is engaged. This is the story of how he asked her to marry him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben went out and hid the ring. (Certainly in some romantic place.) Then he marked the exact longitude and latitude on his hand-held GPS. Then he made some of his friends who were really technologically gifted set up a camera a long distance away so he could record the whole event. In order to hear what was said they ran a microphone through the leaves and dirt all the way to the place where the ring was hidden along with a dozen roses inside an old army ammo box. Then he gave her the coordinates and she had to find the whole setup using the GPS. This is called geocaching and it is becoming more and more popular. I wonder if anyone has ever geocached to ask someone to marry them before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to anyone who is going to be invited to the wedding ceremony the coordinates are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; text-align: left; width: 638px; height: 42px;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;th&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/th&gt; &lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td colspan="3" style="width: 95%;"&gt;&lt;span title="Latitude"&gt;33° 57′ 34.7″ N&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span title="Longitude"&gt;80° 53′ 38.33″ W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="geo"&gt;&lt;span class="latitude" title="Latitude"&gt;33.959638&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="longitude" title="Longitude"&gt;-80.893981&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reception will be held that evening at:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span title="Latitude"&gt;                   33° 59′ 27.8″ N&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span title="Longitude"&gt;81° 4′ 23.4″ W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;span class="geo"&gt;&lt;span class="latitude" title="Latitude"&gt;33.991056&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="longitude" title="Longitude"&gt;-81.073167&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you all have GPS. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats Benjamin! I love you Buddy! Did you put the video up on Youtube yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/S1dk38cXPJI/AAAAAAAAACo/93W-tS9QNC0/s1600-h/ben+and+s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/S1dk38cXPJI/AAAAAAAAACo/93W-tS9QNC0/s320/ben+and+s.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428918788099095698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1138253904906929463?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1138253904906929463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1138253904906929463' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1138253904906929463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1138253904906929463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2010/01/other-day-i-get-call-from-josh.html' title='Buried Treasure'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/S1dk38cXPJI/AAAAAAAAACo/93W-tS9QNC0/s72-c/ben+and+s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-976997590414404349</id><published>2009-07-17T01:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T02:27:08.716-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='golf cart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pride'/><title type='text'>Golf Cart Chaos</title><content type='html'>Today I was driving the golf carts at work and explaining to my two co-workers/buddies why I was the best cart driver since I was the only one who had not crashed a cart. Mid thought a couple of stairs came out of nowhere and i accidentally drove down them... I don't think Josh and Dane will ever let me live it down. Pride before the fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-eb9723b143877100" 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://v9.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Deb9723b143877100%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331725529%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7C8CA88CFFEF9E219412E86FE9D4D563B206FED7.4D103CEB2C947957C49D480582184AD3A4807496%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Deb9723b143877100%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D_ahysvdJ6pkrAflGeBR1J4gr5vw&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v24.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D916e02077a77f23a%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331725529%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5E6B6ECE3C26426C264EE1845D8CFA41F634FB33.5F0BA637754FDDCD88109186F11B25A126976FE9%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D916e02077a77f23a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DoXf_OMgXpPujBBr27JXJfHYL5ps&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-976997590414404349?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=916e02077a77f23a&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=eb9723b143877100&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/976997590414404349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=976997590414404349' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/976997590414404349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/976997590414404349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2009/07/golf-cart-chaos.html' title='Golf Cart Chaos'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-6482551939004520941</id><published>2008-12-18T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T01:15:57.101-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children&apos;s songs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obesity'/><title type='text'>Jesus Wants Me for a Sun-BEAN!</title><content type='html'>As a child I always thought that people were called "human beans" I guess it is a tribute to the severe obesity problems in America that humans sometimes really are bean shaped like beans...unless of course you are talking about greenbeans...but even then... some humans that are super skinny are that shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This association of humans to beans was further solidified by the song that is sung by the children at church called "Jesus wants me for a sunBEAN." That song is the best. Lots of jumping up and yelling involved. I think one time as I helped with the family garden I  wondered if any of the greenbeans we planted were called "sunbeans"and why Jesus would want me to not be human...instead he wanted me to be marginal vegetable...I mean an artichoke or asperagus or something really delicious I could have understood...but a green bean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was much later in life before I discovered that human beings are not beans and Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbean, but he really does want me for a sunbeam.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-6482551939004520941?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6482551939004520941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=6482551939004520941' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6482551939004520941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6482551939004520941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/12/jesus-wants-me-for-sunbean.html' title='Jesus Wants Me for a Sun-BEAN!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-1859693837568163078</id><published>2008-11-18T23:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T00:14:53.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poker Face</title><content type='html'>It is no Joke that I would be the worst poker player ever. The other night some friends and I were playing rummy and we joked about how poorly I hide it when I have a good hand. It doesn't matter how hard I try to conceal things I really am incapable. Surprises take so much effort because I have to prep myself in the mirror. I go through every situation or question that the person being surprised might put me in or ask. My roommates almost always know if I have kissed my date when I come home just by looking at my face. Even 3 or 4 hours later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In light of this personal deficiency I think that becoming a bank manager would be a poor choice of careers. Can you imagine the conversation between a bank robber and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me - "I don't even know the code to the vault..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bank Robber - "Dude, your the worst liar ever! I can see it in your face! Now open the vault!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Yeah...grifter would be a poor choice too...although I really like the word, grifter, and really wish it applied to a person who can't hide his emotions rather than someone who scams people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1859693837568163078?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1859693837568163078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1859693837568163078' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1859693837568163078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1859693837568163078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/11/poker-face.html' title='Poker Face'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-7887704785529532491</id><published>2008-11-11T13:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T14:48:43.526-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='racket'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleft pallet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='raqcuetball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jumping on the bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stitches'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monkeys'/><title type='text'>No More Monkey's Jumping on the Bed</title><content type='html'>That popular children's song about monkeys jumping on beds and falling off and breaking their heads has always had great meaning for me. When I was four some of my siblings and I woke up and proceeded to jump on my bed. Things were great until I decided I wanted to jump and land on my back. I bounced off my back sideways and hit the desk next to my bed splitting my lip causing me to need 4 stitches. This last year I kinda got a little chubby and the scar became much more visible. I had 3 or 4 people ask me if I had a cleft pallet when I was a child. I politely explained what had happened when I was four years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SRoIizVHNhI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Pey3gigCOtE/s1600-h/P1010068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SRoIizVHNhI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Pey3gigCOtE/s320/P1010068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267532108150552082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If people were curious before as to whether or not I had a cleft pallet they will be more so now. Last night after 2 hours of vigorous racquetball I was chasing a ball towards the back wall when the ball hit the corner and took an unexpected bounce. In my haste to change the trajectory of my racket I failed to miss the tip of my shoe which catapulted the business end directly at my face. Completely missing the ridiculous-looking protective eye-wear that I adorn, the racket smacked me precisely on my upper lip right on the other side of my face from my old scar. I knew immediately from the reaction of my opponents that I was hurt pretty badly, not to mention the searing pain in my face. I called a friend who rushed me to a late night urgent care center where I received four stitches. My only regret is that this time I was not a good enough boy to receive a lollypop from the nurse. I guess they assumed I had grown out of that, or maybe she did not appreciate me asking her if she would kiss it better.  ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7887704785529532491?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7887704785529532491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7887704785529532491' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7887704785529532491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7887704785529532491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-more-monkeys-jumping-on-bed.html' title='No More Monkey&apos;s Jumping on the Bed'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SRoIizVHNhI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Pey3gigCOtE/s72-c/P1010068.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-6598828966750071058</id><published>2008-11-08T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T17:06:51.397-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hoped-for girl'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='potatoes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream girl'/><title type='text'>Dream Food</title><content type='html'>So I just fell asleep on my couch. In the few seconds that I was asleep I had a dream about eating. What was it that I was eating in my dream? Potatoes...plain, mashed potatoes. You always hear about people's "dream woman" or "dream job" I suppose that plain mashed potatoes is my "dream food." It kind of makes those phrases less meaningful though. I mean maybe instead of calling someone a "dream girl" she should be called a "hoped-for girl." That way there is no confusion as to whether you mean you dreamed about someone versus day-dreamed/imagined.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-6598828966750071058?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6598828966750071058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=6598828966750071058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6598828966750071058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6598828966750071058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/11/dream-food.html' title='Dream Food'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-4894429060660682969</id><published>2008-11-05T18:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T19:46:33.678-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='President'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='butt-cheeks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fudge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bandwagon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='walnuts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='president obama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vote'/><title type='text'>GObama!</title><content type='html'>Some people say, "Vote for so and so" or "Choose something, something." However, I have the solution for those of us that hate losing so much that it makes us clench our butt-cheeks so tight we could crack walnuts every time we get beat at racquetball, or swear when we lose at chess. This year, in order to save myself the agony of defeat, I chose not to vote or choose a party until it was almost set who the winner would be. Then I jumped on that bandwagon and rode baby rode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, I would just like to say GO OBAMA!! I knew you could do it! You ROCK! Your policy on doing stuff for America sure was something of a something. Now I know that America will be somewhere (insert ambiguous adjective here) for at least the next 4 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made some fudge and delivered it to some of my friends here in Utah. It was wrapped and had blue ribbons on it for the blue of the democrats. I delivered it just after I was sure McCain could not make a comeback saying, "happy Obama day." It was funny to see people react. Some were disgusted. Some laughed and admited to voting for Obama. I like that a lot of people think the world is coming to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS I really did vote...I am not an idiot...does anyone need some walnuts cracked?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-4894429060660682969?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4894429060660682969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=4894429060660682969' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4894429060660682969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4894429060660682969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/11/gobama.html' title='GObama!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-5937882185234570306</id><published>2008-08-10T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:54:31.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do Grape Trees Start as Nuts?</title><content type='html'>I have realized that no matter how much sugar or honey you put on Grapenuts cereal it still tastes very bland. You could sprinkle a light layer of Grapenuts on pure cane sugar eat it and it would still taste awful. Its weird though that only after a couple of bites you are full and you wont get hungry again for at least 5 hours. At least it is not taco bell where I feel nauseated for a week after eating it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5937882185234570306?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5937882185234570306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5937882185234570306' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5937882185234570306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5937882185234570306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/do-grape-trees-start-as-nuts.html' title='Do Grape Trees Start as Nuts?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-82701032332237132</id><published>2008-08-10T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T00:29:35.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Married</title><content type='html'>I was driving toward Park City today on the freeway and as i was going I saw a car that had been decorated with 'Just Married" written on the back window broken down on the freeway. I couldn't help but laugh as i thought of the conversation that must have ensued at the time the car broke down:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, dearest, the car broke down. We have waited this many years to have relations. Can we wait a few more hours while we wait for a taxi and a tow?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Not much of a conversation. I mean...what do you say to that? I would have offered a ride but I couldn't see anyone in the car so i just kept driving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-82701032332237132?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/82701032332237132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=82701032332237132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/82701032332237132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/82701032332237132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/just-married.html' title='Just Married'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-6549597350013661881</id><published>2008-08-07T01:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T02:09:30.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beating Around the Bush</title><content type='html'>I decided my favorite kind of people is the kind that gets to the point quickly and precisely. I know that I am not always the best at this but my mentor at BYU's school of technology, her name is Beverly, is one of these people. The information comes at me so fast and intensely out of her mouth that my brain has absolutely no chance to wander off. If only I could get everyone that speaks in church to be like her it would make church much more informative for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-6549597350013661881?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6549597350013661881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=6549597350013661881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6549597350013661881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6549597350013661881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/beating-around-bush.html' title='Beating Around the Bush'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-5481290014340669852</id><published>2008-08-04T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T22:33:48.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fudge. F Dash Dash Dash. The Grand-Daddy of All Swear Words.</title><content type='html'>My buddy Lee has an awesome fudge recipe. He sent this recipe to my email address with the above title which is from the movie "A Christmas Story", the one with the kid who has everyone tell him he'll shoot his eye out if he gets the ridiculously-long-named Red Rider b&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ee bee&lt;/span&gt; gun. Also, I always wondered if they used contacts or movie tricks to make that one bully kid's eyes yellow in that movie. I thought yellow eyes would be pretty cool until I found out most people with yellow eyes either have jaundice or liver problems or both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been on a no-sugar kick lately and haven't had large quantities of sugar in a long time. I allow myself, generally, one treat per week. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; save it till Sunday because that is when my student ward has what I affectionately call "eat-a-cookie, take-a-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lookie&lt;/span&gt;" or "snack and mack." Officially I think its name is "munch and mingle." I like mine better though. This is where we all get together in one of the apartments and eat the delicious desserts provided by the hosts. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; I eat a brownie or a cookie and then socialize for a while soaking up the energy of happy people around me. However, this time it was my apartments turn to host the shin-dig. What did I make? You guessed it! I made the fudge from Lee's recipe. It is great fudge but a small piece goes a long way, and 14 or 15 small pieces makes you want to throw up when you wake up in the morning...that is if you ever get off your sugar high long enough to get to sleep before the sun comes up. I unfortunately made the mistake of eating too much fudge when I had not eaten any significant amounts of sugar for a couple months. After dry-heaving out of my car door for about five minutes this morning before leaving for work I am not sure I will ever be able to look at the fudge the same way again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. does anyone know where I can buy one of those leg-lamps from that movie? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5481290014340669852?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5481290014340669852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5481290014340669852' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5481290014340669852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5481290014340669852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/fudge-f-dash-dash-dash-grand-daddy-of.html' title='Fudge. F Dash Dash Dash. The Grand-Daddy of All Swear Words.'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-1996378735653445436</id><published>2008-07-30T01:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T02:10:17.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavy Petting</title><content type='html'>When I was in high school our bishop came into our sunday-school class and had a chat with us to explain a few things about being chaste. Towards the end of his lesson He gave a list of things that we should not be doing. As he went through the list I recognized most of the things that came up. But he got to a point that completely baffled me. He said that there should be no "petting" or "heavy petting." For the life of me I could not figure out what the heck that could mean. I wanted to ask what that was but I felt dumb because everyone else seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few questions came into my mind as I pictured myself running my hand from the top of a girls head down the back of her head and on to her upper back, just as if i was petting a dog. Why would anyone want to pet or be petted like a dog? Why in the world would that be something sinful or wrong? Is scratching behind the ears off limits too? It just did not add up. I figured it could not mean what I thought it was but still avoided petting girls like they were dogs more out of fear that they would just get really annoyed at me than out of fear of Hell-fire and Damnation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later when I was about 19 someone finally explained it to me and I was enlightened just as if someone had finally placed the last puzzle piece into the puzzle to reveal all I needed to know about being chaste. Next time I think I will just ask at first so that my mind does not have to deal with these kinds of awesome mind puzzles and I can be free to ponder more important things like why fingers prune in the hot tub.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1996378735653445436?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1996378735653445436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1996378735653445436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1996378735653445436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1996378735653445436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/heavy-petting.html' title='Heavy Petting'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-5921361223644646714</id><published>2008-07-24T00:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T01:22:26.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm IT!</title><content type='html'>Thanks &lt;a href="http://ms-mclaws.blogspot.com/"&gt;Camille&lt;/a&gt; For tagging me. I was really struggling to find a blog topic today so it might as well be about how strange I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;1. You link back to the person who tagged you&lt;br /&gt;2. Post these rules on your blog&lt;br /&gt;3. Share six unimportant things about yourself&lt;br /&gt;4. Tag six random people at the end of your entry&lt;br /&gt;5. Let the tagged people know by leaving a comment on their blogs&lt;br /&gt;6. Enjoy the results!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;One: &lt;/em&gt;I really hate it when different foods touch each other on my plate. Really the corn has no right to be in the mashed potatoes and gravy on the salad? that's a big no-no!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Two: &lt;/em&gt;I also choose to eat one item at a time on my plate starting with my least favorite and moving on to my most favorite item. This has helped me enjoy the unadulterated taste of each item on my plate as well as force me to eat everything I took. There are starving children in China you know!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Three: &lt;/em&gt;I have a really long middle finger...no really...it is long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Four: &lt;/em&gt;When I was young I got stitches in my lip. now if I gain any kind of weight it goes straight to my face and the scar becomes much more visible as the normal skin around the scar plumps up. Also sometimes I get asked if I had a cleft pallet as a kid. But no, I just liked to jump on the bed a little too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Five: &lt;/em&gt;I used to hold my breath during math class in high school to see how long I could do it. My record is 2 minutes and 20 seconds. I could have gone longer but my friend said my lips were turning blue and it kind of scared me. I guess maybe I should have been paying attention to the teacher...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Six: &lt;/em&gt;I love cold weather. My motto is that you can always put more clothes on if you are cold but you can only take so much off before you are naked and unable to strip anything else off if you are hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck with this &lt;a href="http://doxeyohana.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nat and Joe&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://therencherfamily.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nathan and Megan&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://maximumglutes.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Maxene&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://kimjonluck.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kim and Jon&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://taterandouttastater.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kim and Lee&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://friendjamin.blogspot.com/"&gt;Benjamin&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5921361223644646714?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5921361223644646714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5921361223644646714' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5921361223644646714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5921361223644646714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-it.html' title='I&apos;m IT!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-9113029307751372499</id><published>2008-07-22T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:52:04.781-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Caffeine? Hi!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SIXjUS7nTKI/AAAAAAAAABs/TgnCXH2FVNs/s1600-h/CAFFEINE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225832880452095138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SIXjUS7nTKI/AAAAAAAAABs/TgnCXH2FVNs/s320/CAFFEINE.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I get migraines from time to time and when that happens I generally take 2 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;excedrine&lt;/span&gt;, take a 20 minute nap and it goes away. I would say about 10 percent of the time the nap doesn't happen but instead it is replaced with 2 hours of walking around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;in circles&lt;/span&gt; with insanely fast thoughts moving through my head. My roommate affectionately calls me during this high "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Excedrine&lt;/span&gt; Dave" he always gets a kick out of it because I will generally jump on things and make funny noises and am pretty ridiculous. This morning I woke up at 5 because I had another migraine. It was particularly bad and I had no medicine because I spent the night at my cousin's in Salt Lake City. I decided the only way I could take care of myself was to run to the store down the street and buy some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Excedrine&lt;/span&gt;. So I rolled into the parking lot of the drugstore and stumbled into the store, bought my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; took 2 right there and then stumbled back to my car to go take a nap at my cousin's. Instead of napping however it was was of those "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Excedrine&lt;/span&gt; Dave" days. I have been trying to stay quiet so that i don't wake my cousin who is still in repose and so I went online to take care of some things for the coming semester. I have felt a lot of pent up energy but on the other hand have been quite effective in getting things done online. I can see why people like coffee in the morning. It really does give you a jump start, although I am not a huge fan of the smell or the stains on the teeth that comes from it. I guess its good that my coffee comes in pill form.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Hey look cousin, I put a picture up for you.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-9113029307751372499?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9113029307751372499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=9113029307751372499' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9113029307751372499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9113029307751372499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/caffeine-hi.html' title='Caffeine? Hi!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SIXjUS7nTKI/AAAAAAAAABs/TgnCXH2FVNs/s72-c/CAFFEINE.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-7422660107990139805</id><published>2008-07-20T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T21:10:31.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Self Defense</title><content type='html'>I took a long walk today in my bare feet. When I got home my feet hurt a little but I noticed that I had developed blisters. As I felt them and thought back to previous blisters it occurred to me that some of the bodies self-defense mechanisms are kinda dumb. I mean what in the world makes the body think that because it is getting damaged by something rubbing against it to separate the outer layers of skin and fill with a clear liquid that will hurt like crazy whenever you touch it? It just doesn't make sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7422660107990139805?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7422660107990139805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7422660107990139805' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7422660107990139805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7422660107990139805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/self-defense.html' title='Self Defense'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-9124358784785861295</id><published>2008-07-17T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T22:57:34.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coca Cola in India</title><content type='html'>I decided that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is a perfect parallel for Coca Cola's disastrous start in India. When they built their plant and dug a well deeper than the local rural farmer's wells the local farmer's wells ran dry. I don't know if Coca Cola ever abducted the villagers children or physically ripped peoples hearts out with their bare hands and lowered them into a lava pit still alive. But I could so see the head of Coca Cola India wearing those horns and chanting as he goes to rip the money out of Indians pockets selling them a drink that will bring them a slow painful death. Ok so it isn't a perfect analogy but close enough. I hope today is the last day that I am stuck in my apartment...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-9124358784785861295?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9124358784785861295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=9124358784785861295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9124358784785861295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/9124358784785861295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/coca-cola-in-india.html' title='Coca Cola in India'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-963184621134844772</id><published>2008-07-15T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T10:15:59.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Do We Hate?</title><content type='html'>As I have been very sick the last couple of days I have had a lot of time to reflect on the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. What I can't understand is why the Elves and the Dwarfs hate each other so much. I mean really? You would think an enlightened immortal group of people who love nature and spend most of their time in the trees would have no qualms with a people who love rocks and spend all of their time underground. Why can't they just be happy in their own spheres of influence? ...wow I am really sick... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-963184621134844772?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/963184621134844772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=963184621134844772' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/963184621134844772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/963184621134844772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/why-do-we-hate.html' title='Why Do We Hate?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-5649247852101629142</id><published>2008-07-14T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T09:35:32.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Kissing Disease</title><content type='html'>I decided to stop into the Urgent care facility close to my apartment this morning because of what looked and felt like strep. I went in and the doctor gagged me with a long q-tip and then came back 45 minutes later telling me what I had was not strep but possibly Mono or Adenovirus. I really hope it is Adenovirus because if it is Mono I will have it for about 35 days from when I first had a sore throat. That is a long time to be sick. Also, isn't mono generally contracted by kissing someone who has Mono? That is what I was always taught. Maybe that was just my mom's way of keeping me from kissing too much. She also used to tell me that if you kiss too much you could get pregnant. I just assumed she would know since she got pregnant 7 times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5649247852101629142?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5649247852101629142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5649247852101629142' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5649247852101629142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5649247852101629142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/kissing-disease.html' title='The Kissing Disease'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-4070704758347773102</id><published>2008-07-13T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T19:45:37.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Popsicle Sticks</title><content type='html'>Whoever thought it was a good idea to put jokes on popsicle sticks was a genius. I find that if I read the first part of the joke before I eat the popsicle I eat it twice as fast in order to find out the answer to the riddle. Almost every time I am disappointed. Partly because I didn't get to enjoy the flavor of the popsicle and partly because the jokes are never very funny. At any rate I almost always reach for a second popsicle just to fulfill my need for cold delicious fruit in my mouth. Brilliant marketing technique popsicle guys.... Brilliant!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-4070704758347773102?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4070704758347773102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=4070704758347773102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4070704758347773102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4070704758347773102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/popsicle-sticks.html' title='Popsicle Sticks'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-6939539540646300838</id><published>2008-07-09T20:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T21:54:58.191-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Estee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gifted'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ADHD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ADD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Talented'/><title type='text'>Gifted AND Talented</title><content type='html'>For those of you that don't know, I was recently diagnosed with ADHD. I have had it all of my life and to find out so late in life is rare but not unheard of. As I look back at my childhood under the light of this new knowledge I have started to have so many things that I have done or not done make sense. School was always difficult for me. I had a hard time meeting deadlines and finishing projects. I remember having my parents come in to meet with the kindergarten teacher and she pulled out my bin which was full of half-made projects. It was a bumpy start and I always had teachers point out my obvious under achievement. It wasn't that I was stupid I just had a hard time seeing things through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year in elementary school my teacher decided that I was too distracted and was having too much trouble getting my assignments in on time and that I should go to the remedial class for an hour a day for a week to see if that would help me to become a better student. This group was called "gifted and talented." Now I don't know what made anyone think that it was a good idea to take me out of my class and put me in a room with 4 misfits from the other classes in my same grade and then have us talk through our feelings. It wasn't like I was disturbing other children in my daydreams and it was like the teachers were saying, "You are having trouble doing your work so we are going to send you to a class for an hour where you wont have to do any work at all." It is just like suspending someone for ditching too. "You don't want to go to class? Here! Have a whole day off...that'll teach him a lesson." (I was never suspended...just thought it was funny that it was the punishment for ditching too much.) :)  So anyways, I hated being in Gifted and Talented, I felt like I was a misfit too because I was there. I wasn't slow. I wasn't bad. In fact, I was a very smart child who just had a neurological disorder that made it hard to do assignments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was telling Estee about being in the remedial class called "gifted and talented" and she asked if I was sure that was the remedial class. Apparently she got placed in the "gifted and talented" class at her school. Fortunately for her it was really for the gifted and talented children and instead of sitting around in a room with the misfits talking about why someone punched that kid at lunch and how we felt about being abandoned at birth by our fathers, she actually got to do fun, exciting things with all the smart kids at her school, that is really where I would have excelled and I could never understand why I didn't get to do those types of things...I guess it was because of all of my emotional problems from my poor upbringing. (that was sarcasm my parents were awesome.) Do I sound bitter?...I hated that class!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing was that my mother was so proud of me for being in gifted and talented for a week and I didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't really a class for the "gifted" and "talented." Unless stealing lunch money from little kids is considered a talent now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding out that I have ADHD was one of the most, if not the most, life changing things that has ever happened to me. I used to cry out of frustration because of the the unexplainable failure I faced every day. You cannot imagine unless you go through it, the agony of feeling like you will never amount to anything while having the intelligence to understand exactly what that means. I cry now with joy as I begin treatment for this disorder and realize what I can become. I hope that more people will become aware of Attention Deficit Disorder so that many more children wont have to go through what I did. I don't blame anyone, there is no one to blame. My parents and teachers were just trying to do their best with what they knew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-6939539540646300838?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6939539540646300838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=6939539540646300838' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6939539540646300838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/6939539540646300838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/07/gifted-and-talented.html' title='Gifted AND Talented'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-5522143256239935347</id><published>2008-06-28T02:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T02:41:24.827-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spaceballs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='split pants'/><title type='text'>Is it Breezy in Here or is it Just Me?</title><content type='html'>In the last 3 months I have split 3 pairs of pants/shorts in the butt area. We are not talking little tears or holes we are talking split wide open. I guess you don't realize how big you really get back there until it becomes painfully obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded of the movie Spaceballs. there is a scene where President Skroob gets beamed into the war room but they messed up and got his head on backwards in the unscrambler. He looks down and exclaims, "WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME MY BUTT WAS SO BIG!?! President Skroob was not loved by the people on his ship. They didn't even save him an escape pod in the end. All that he really wanted was someone to care enough about him to tell him when something was off in his life...also I think he wanted Druidia's air...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you really love me you will let me know when my butt is getting huge and that way I wont be surprised when my pants tear wide open. Incidentally, After my shorts split in the morning at work and I had worked all day with a gaping hole I decided it keeps you a whole lot cooler than when there are no holes. Bonus!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-5522143256239935347?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5522143256239935347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=5522143256239935347' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5522143256239935347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/5522143256239935347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/06/in-last-3-months-i-have-split-3-pairs.html' title='Is it Breezy in Here or is it Just Me?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-3561150187019519446</id><published>2008-06-26T00:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T02:05:37.751-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Euro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mini-disc'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mp3'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amero'/><title type='text'>The Wave of the Future</title><content type='html'>My friend Joseph always tried to convince me that Mini-Disc was the wave of the future. I don't like being the guy that always says, "I told you so" but I really did "tell him so." At one point I tried to convince him that he should lose the Mini-Discs in favor of MP3s. At the time these were both burgeoning technologies and who could have known MP3s were going to win out...ok I did... It's like the time i was in Germany and they had just released the Euro and I thought to myself "gee, I could buy 4 Euro's for a dollar. I bet those are going to just go up in value," then did nothing about it. I would have really scored big. I really should just go with my gut more often. My uncle was telling me that the government is going to destroy the dollar by introducing a pan-North American currency called the "Amero." He usually follows it with talk of how we are building a super-highway that will allow Mexican truck drivers to go straight to Canada. I don't even know why that is a bad thing. In fact it might push our illegal alien problem off on our northern buddies. Anyways, my gut is telling me "no" on this one... I don't know where he gets these ideas. They sure are fun though. Yeah...so in conclusion, Mini-discs are like the 8-tracks of the nineties. They are fun to have but pretty useless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-3561150187019519446?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3561150187019519446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=3561150187019519446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3561150187019519446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3561150187019519446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/06/wave-of-future_26.html' title='The Wave of the Future'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-7146050281526884029</id><published>2008-06-21T01:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T01:40:33.774-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pruned fingers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hot tub'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><title type='text'>Prune Fingers</title><content type='html'>I love swimming. Unfortunately, swimming and hot tubbing come with a very unfortunate side-affect. Why do fingers prune? Am I the only one who thinks it becomes terribly uncomfortable to touch things with fingers that are pruned up. They become so sensitive that when I sit in the hot tub I put my whole body in and hold my hands in the air to keep them dry. I look silly and people tease me but i will have the last laugh when they go to touch stuff and their hands are super sensitive! I wish there was some kind of magical remedy for pruniness because I am sure I could make a lot of money marketing that.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of weird things that I hate...I think I am also the only one who hates it when different food items touch each other on my plate. Some things are OK, like gravy on my mashed potatoes. But really, if I wanted corn in my mashed potatoes I would have mixed them in at the start. The one thing I dislike the most is syrup on my eggs. It probably tastes delicious but because it is so foreign to me I hate it. Also I like to eat one thing at a time until it is all gone...phew! I am glad I got that off my chest. I feel much better now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7146050281526884029?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7146050281526884029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7146050281526884029' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7146050281526884029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7146050281526884029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/06/prune-fingers.html' title='Prune Fingers'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-3578178264351354840</id><published>2008-06-08T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T14:30:47.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Verse 1</title><content type='html'>Today in church we had a musical testimony meeting. This is where the congregation is allowed to come up and talk for a minute about their favorite hymn and then we all sing a verse or two from it. After a few songs a young lady got up and introduced her favorite song and many people before her had picked random verses to sing since sometimes the first verse wasn't their favorite. Unfortunately, I stopped paying attention when this particular young woman mentioned her favorite verse. "No big deal," I told myself, "I will just ask my friend Molly who is sitting next to me and is so good to me." I turned to molly and whispered into her ear, "which verse?" She looked at me with a smile and said "Verse one." In most songs you know in the first line which verse you are singing but in this particular song all the verses started off the same. So I started the song with confidence and held my head up high as I sang past the first line into the heart of the verse singing the words to verse one. Unfortunately I had been tricked. We really were supposed to sing verse three. I immediately hear giggles from my friends sitting with me and I looked over at Molly. She still had the same smile on her face as when she told me which verse to sing. Also I noticed she didn't sing the wrong words. She told me the wrong verse on purpose. I quickly shifted my focus from verse one to verse three and finished the song. Molly, if you are reading this, revenge is sweet. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-3578178264351354840?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3578178264351354840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=3578178264351354840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3578178264351354840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3578178264351354840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/06/verse-1.html' title='Verse 1'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-4995168437212165586</id><published>2008-05-27T15:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T16:15:38.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Team 7</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The concept of "Team 7" was given to me by my friend Nathan. Basically it goes like this: A certain girl has the choice between 2 guys. One of the guys is a 9 out of 10 on her hotness scale and the other is a lowly 7. However, if the 9 is kind of laid back about dating and calls less often while the 7 is persistent without being creepy or annoying, who does the girl end up with? if you said the 9 you are probably wrong. Most people you talk to will say the girl ends up with the one who cares enough to put in persistent effort to win her heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The actual name "Team 7" was created when Martin, Lee and I were explaining this concept to a friend of ours. She had an objection to what we were telling her and she wanted to prove her point with a hypothetical situation. I don't remember what that was because she started out her hypothetical situation with the phrase, "OK, for example, you three boys are all sevens..." We all laughed very hard at that because we all know that we are sevens but you don't tell someone that they are a seven. It's like calling someone who is obviously stupid a "dummy". So after that we called ourselves Team 7. Of course we didn't let Nathan into team 7 because he is clearly a 9. :) Of the original Team 7 I am the only one not married. I guess I am just not persistent enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Look for this in your single friends or friends who are getting married. You will find examples of team 7 everywhere.&lt;/span&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/2476276196194933790-4995168437212165586?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4995168437212165586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=4995168437212165586' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4995168437212165586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4995168437212165586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/team-7.html' title='Team 7'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-4623814137339807820</id><published>2008-05-23T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T01:06:22.471-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='astro'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jetsons'/><title type='text'>The Jetsons</title><content type='html'>I had a boring life as a child. It was so boring that I used to make up incredible tales about what I did during the day with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jetsons&lt;/span&gt;. George &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jetson&lt;/span&gt; was my favorite at the time but I also really loved &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Astro&lt;/span&gt;. If i ever have a dog I am going to name it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Astro&lt;/span&gt;. It was entertaining for my family to hear about the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Jetsons&lt;/span&gt; at the dinner table and after a while they began to ask me, "what did you and George &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jetson&lt;/span&gt; do today?" Everyone would laugh and laugh except me. It didn't take long for me to realize that everyone knew I was lying about what George and I did and they were just trying to find out what kind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;shenanigans&lt;/span&gt; I could think up. Sometimes my stories would come off the top of my head and other times they would coincide with what really happened on that day's episode. After a while i grew tired of telling my stories and having them not be taken seriously. One evening when we all sat together my brother smiled at me and asked, "How was George Jetson today?" I looked down at the table and then behind me apprehensive of what I knew i had to report. "George Jetson died today..." there was a moment of silence as everyone mourned for George Jetson. I wonder if some of my siblings really think George died or if they all caught on to the fact that i was just telling a lie to get out of my other lies...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-4623814137339807820?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4623814137339807820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=4623814137339807820' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4623814137339807820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4623814137339807820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/jetsons.html' title='The Jetsons'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-3156360311577724218</id><published>2008-05-17T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T14:54:50.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Clean-up on Aisle 9!"</title><content type='html'>To me, one of the most embarrassing things you can do at the grocery store is drop something that makes a huge mess. 2 days ago I was pulling some juice off the shelf and as I went to check the ingredients to see if there was any high fructose corn syrup (I am trying to avoid it) it slipped out of my hands. Before I knew it there was a gallon of white grape juice all over aisle nine. I grabbed another bottle and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;beckoned&lt;/span&gt; to Estee, who was getting quite a chuckle out of the situation, to walk quickly with me to check out and tell the clerk that there was a mess. I felt terrible because I am sure the poor old man at the counter was going to end up cleaning it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think that is the end of this story you are wrong. The very next day Estee and I were at Macey's picking up some camp chairs they have on sale there for 5 bucks a piece (a great deal really...) and I decided to go grab some chips and salsa for a snack later. I also grabbed some honey. I only had 2 hands so I was forced to balance the Chachies mango salsa on top of the honey. It situated itself quite nicely inside the lid and wasn't all that hard to hold. I do not know what distracted me but i totally forgot the precarious position in which I  had placed my Chachies. The next thing I know I heard a splat and felt a cold drop of salsa on my toe. The whole bottom of the salsa bowl broke and it exploded all over aisle ten of Macey's. To make things worse, I exclaimed, "You have got to be kidding me!" so loudly that I called the attention of all the people and the clerks at the nearby check stands. A store clerk shouted that he would take care of it and rushed to get some supplies. And once again Estee, who this time was practically rolling on the floor with laughter, and I briskly walked to a checkout to leave after I had made a mess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-3156360311577724218?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3156360311577724218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=3156360311577724218' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3156360311577724218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3156360311577724218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/clean-up-on-aisle-9.html' title='&quot;Clean-up on Aisle 9!&quot;'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-8631018671168775900</id><published>2008-05-13T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T11:21:01.501-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Botulism</title><content type='html'>I was reading on the honey jar today that you are not supposed to give honey to infants under the age of one. Naturally I was intrigued and so i did some research. (thanks world wide web) It turns out that there are spores in honey that can cause botulism. As adults we have friendly bacterium in our digestive tracts that keep us from getting it but infants don't have this line of defense and therefore they can get infant botulism and even die. I am not sure what botulism is but i hear it effects the nervous system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name botulism could really mean someone who is racist against someone from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Botulia&lt;/span&gt;. I can just hear the news now:&lt;br /&gt;   "Today the racist group called "We Have Botulism" rallied near city hall in order to protest the arrival of 2 train loads of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Botulian&lt;/span&gt; refugees who were displaced from their native &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Botulia&lt;/span&gt; after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Botulist&lt;/span&gt; violence spread from the jungle regions of the botulian mountains."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now i am pretty sure there is not a country called Botulia but if there was... I would be willing to bet that the scientist who named the disease botulism was a botulist pig!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-8631018671168775900?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8631018671168775900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=8631018671168775900' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/8631018671168775900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/8631018671168775900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/botulism.html' title='Botulism'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-1121898637662057395</id><published>2008-05-07T02:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T02:43:35.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Addendum to "My ding-a-ling"</title><content type='html'>According to Wikipedia (which we all know is NEVER wrong) Chuck Berry did not write the song but sang it the way he did with full knowledge of the double meaning of ding-a-ling. Also, he didn't sing it as long ago as i had assumed. Also...everyone i know seems to have heard this song before but me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1121898637662057395?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1121898637662057395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1121898637662057395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1121898637662057395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1121898637662057395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/addendum-to-my-ding-ling.html' title='Addendum to &quot;My ding-a-ling&quot;'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-1359146735638511303</id><published>2008-05-06T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T20:46:46.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Maintenance Man Saga Continues</title><content type='html'>I left my apartment this morning to find my maintenance man outside knocking on the door of the apartment upstairs. I figured it would be nice of me to tell him that no one is living there yet. Unfortunately he didn't know enough English to understand me and so I had to show him. I then proceeded to break into the apartment through a window. It had been left unlocked so i pushed it open. Then, I hopped onto the windowsill with my big butt sticking out, reaching over to unlock the door. Later at work it dawned on me that this was the same man that I had accidentally called "sexy." (see "the Mexican surprise" blog entry) I wonder if he thinks I am less gay now that I went out of my way to help him AND stuck my butt out at him through a window. Hopefully he really didn't understand me when I called him sexy in the first place...I mean there is no coming back from that one.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1359146735638511303?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1359146735638511303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1359146735638511303' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1359146735638511303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1359146735638511303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/maintenance-man-saga-continues.html' title='The Maintenance Man Saga Continues'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-609266636383822265</id><published>2008-05-06T19:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T00:05:21.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ding-a-ling</title><content type='html'>Every time I look at my favorite ukulele site on the internet I pass by the song called "My Ding-a-ling." Each time I say to myself, "Well, that song has to be either really old or really inappropriate." Finally, after overlooking the link to this song many times I decided to take a peak. I was surprised to read the lyrics and find that it is BOTH very old AND can be taken very inappropriately. Chuck Berry wrote this song about a string that his grandmother gave him that had bells attached. She told him it was his ding-a-ling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(These are some of the real lyrics to this song.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third verse:&lt;br /&gt;As I was swimming cross turtle creek,&lt;br /&gt;Man, them snappers all around my feet.&lt;br /&gt;Sure was hard swimming cross that thing,&lt;br /&gt;With both hands holding my ding-a-ling-a-ling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling&lt;br /&gt;Won't you play with my ding-a-ling&lt;br /&gt;My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling&lt;br /&gt;I want you to play with my ding-a-ling-a-ling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if Chuck was just clueless when he wrote this song or if later generations perverted the meaning...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-609266636383822265?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/609266636383822265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=609266636383822265' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/609266636383822265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/609266636383822265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-ding-ling.html' title='My Ding-a-ling'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-565650230543306612</id><published>2008-05-05T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T18:16:25.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eugoogally for the fish</title><content type='html'>This blog entry is dedicated to the lost souls of our original six apartment goldfish. I will list their names and all who knew them can have a moment of silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spot - we are pretty sure you were killed and eaten by your brothers.&lt;br /&gt;Alpha, Kuntakinta, Striper, and Geronimo - you all looked alike after a few months but each of you got flushed separately.&lt;br /&gt;Brunt - You did not live the longest like your owner thought after you ate everyone else's fins. One of the quadruplets beat you in the endurance category.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew that after the Great overfeeding of November 16th or the month long famine of January that it would be high nitrate levels and the loss of a decent fish tank vacuum that finally took the lives of our beloved friends. We loved you very much, (not like those stupid shrimp, they were dumb) and you will be missed. I don't know whether or not i have the heart to replace our fish with others. Maybe I will just give the plant a name and enjoy that for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh by the way, Andrew, Ben, Josh, and Cody, ummm your fish all died when you went to Europe... sorry I didn't let you know before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-565650230543306612?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/565650230543306612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=565650230543306612' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/565650230543306612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/565650230543306612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/eugoogally-for-fish.html' title='Eugoogally for the fish'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-1010960441430288529</id><published>2008-04-27T23:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:52:07.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Metaphors</title><content type='html'>I am a metaphor man. I love making metaphors and expanding them to mean a lot of different things. My most recent metaphor is about myself and my newly diagnosed case of ADHD. My metaphor went a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am like a bouncy ball. Generally when you get me moving I just bounce a few times and then who knows what direction I will deflect in. However if you were to tie that ball to a rubber band and attach that rubber band to a paddle you can control the awesome power inside to do great things. Or at least be entertained for a bit... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love these things but I never was very good at them.  I think I just didn't have the right amount of finesse to be a pro at it.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SBVuW2rDPoI/AAAAAAAAABk/xHTI8Nn3anU/s1600-h/PZ572.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SBVuW2rDPoI/AAAAAAAAABk/xHTI8Nn3anU/s320/PZ572.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194179084153994882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1010960441430288529?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1010960441430288529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1010960441430288529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1010960441430288529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1010960441430288529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-metaphors.html' title='My Metaphors'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/SBVuW2rDPoI/AAAAAAAAABk/xHTI8Nn3anU/s72-c/PZ572.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-4250283043094960779</id><published>2008-04-23T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T19:14:47.677-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='verbs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Estee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='names'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Camille'/><title type='text'>Action Names</title><content type='html'>A few weeks ago I challenged a friend of mine, named Camille, to a duel of whit. We decided to find all the people 's names we could think of that are also verbs. At first we only found three but upon more pondering about it we came up with a huge list of names that are also verbs. Here is the list we have so far. About half of them came from Estee after i told her about the game...firmly placing her in the lead. She is good at this game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary - We are getting married.&lt;br /&gt;Josh - Just joshing you. (as in joking)&lt;br /&gt;Nick - He nicked me with the razor.&lt;br /&gt;Bob - I bobbed for apples.&lt;br /&gt;Phil - I will fill your glass.&lt;br /&gt;Ralph - I think i am going to ralph after eating your lasagna.&lt;br /&gt;Taylor - I got fat and now i have to tailor my pants.&lt;br /&gt;Snoop - Stop snooping around my apartment, CREEPO!&lt;br /&gt;DJ - I am djing the party tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Joey or Joy - I am going to joy in your misery.&lt;br /&gt;Barry - I will bury the hatchet.&lt;br /&gt;Carey - I will carry your burdens.&lt;br /&gt;Briggit - See that gap? you should bridge it.&lt;br /&gt;Bear - I will bare my teeth.&lt;br /&gt;Wade - I will wade through the waist deep water.&lt;br /&gt;Sue - I am going to sue your butt.&lt;br /&gt;Terry - Don't tarry here too long, you will get busted for loitering.&lt;br /&gt;Chuck - I am going to chuck this old pizza out.&lt;br /&gt;Tuck - Will you tuck me in to my bed tonight?&lt;br /&gt;Buck - The horse bucked me off.&lt;br /&gt;Jack - That dude just jacked my car!&lt;br /&gt;Gage - It is hard to gauge how awesome i am.&lt;br /&gt;Jet - i have to jet.&lt;br /&gt;Tell - I am going to tell mom!&lt;br /&gt;Rock - I will rock you!&lt;br /&gt;Tan - I am going to tan the leather.&lt;br /&gt;Cher - I will share my food with you.&lt;br /&gt;Bill - Bill me later.&lt;br /&gt;Rob - Don't rob the bank.&lt;br /&gt;Huck - I hucked the log into the river.&lt;br /&gt;Chip - I chipped the glass&lt;br /&gt;Will - I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honorable mention:&lt;br /&gt;Pete - First i peated then RE-peated the third grade...eh? eh? i am hilarious!&lt;br /&gt;Sire - I know it isn't a name but it is a title and it is a funny verb...look it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have anything to add to this list please feel free to comment i have had a lot of fun coming up with these with my friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-4250283043094960779?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4250283043094960779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=4250283043094960779' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4250283043094960779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/4250283043094960779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/action-names.html' title='Action Names'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-7048321929876763989</id><published>2008-04-19T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T00:20:51.086-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Estee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='half-marathon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running'/><title type='text'>The Fall</title><content type='html'>So today I ran my first half marathon ever. I haven't been in shape for the last 2 years of my life but, notwithstanding,  last minute decided to run it with a friend of mine. At the very start she told me to feel free to leave her behind. Even though she was in better shape her legs are about half the length of mine. At around Mile 4 the marathon runners were split from the half-marathon runners. They had us "halfies" turn around and run back along the same road we had just run down only on the other side of the median so that no one tried to skip a few hundred yards to boost their time. As I am running I catch a glimpse of Estee and decide it would be a great idea to yell her name and wave. As i did so she heard and turned her head to look and wave back. Unfortunately the turning of her head coincided with her running into a sign. She narrowly missed hitting her head but tripped over the base and fell to the ground. Luckily she was alright but i can't help but smile and think about how this girl is straight out of the movie Pure Luck with Martin Short. It is a nineties film about a couple who are extremely accident prone and they lose each other because of accidents and end up finding each other by accident again. Its not a great movie but when you see it happen in real life it is pretty funny. I am sure you will see more blog entries about Estee's Antics. Anyways, the half marathon was fun. Definitely a good experience and I am glad i did it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7048321929876763989?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7048321929876763989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7048321929876763989' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7048321929876763989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7048321929876763989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/fall.html' title='The Fall'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-7492525225961556532</id><published>2008-04-13T05:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T19:31:50.526-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boogers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mission'/><title type='text'>Who Says Boogers Never Strike the Same Place Twice?</title><content type='html'>The sound of someone flicking their fingers will forever haunt me. Not only is it painful when someone flicks your ear, but I had a fairly disturbing experience while i was in Ukraine that is related to it. I was paired up with another missionary and he was an interesting fellow. One morning I got out of the shower and was getting dressed in the room. Parr was still lounging in his bed and as I turned my back to him to grab something off the dresser I heard a flicking noise like someone was playing that little paper triangle football game. Almost simultaneously I felt a wet sensation on the back of my neck. When i went to wipe the wet from my neck i realized there was a nasty little green blob on me. I turned around to find Parr inspecting his finger to see if he dispersed of the booger he had just flicked. I am pretty sure i have not been so disgusted in my life as I was at that moment...no wait, a couple of weeks later when the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;exact&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;same thing happened again&lt;/span&gt; was the moment when i was the most disgusted!! "Really Dude?!" I exclaimed, "You have assaulted me twice with boogers?! REALLY?!" Turns out he wasn't aiming for me either time but, if he had been aiming for me, someone should award him one thousand disgusting points for being able to hit me on the back of my neck with two boogies. Aw heck! I will give him the points...your in the lead according to my count, Parr! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7492525225961556532?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7492525225961556532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7492525225961556532' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7492525225961556532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7492525225961556532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/who-says-boogers-never-strike-same.html' title='Who Says Boogers Never Strike the Same Place Twice?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-3014296447047452232</id><published>2008-04-10T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:52:07.867-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='andrew'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ear candle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burned neck'/><title type='text'>Don't Smoke Kids!</title><content type='html'>So the other day I thought i had an ear infection but it went away the next day. A friend of mine suggested i go out and buy an ear candle to clean it out just because it does a great job. So i went and bought one for each of my ears. Now they didn't come with instructions but i heard you were supposed to light them on fire and stick the not burning end in your ear. As we lit the fire i thought to myself, "I wonder who was the first person who said, 'hey lets stick this flaming rolled up wax paper in our ears and see if it cleans out the ear wax!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_7mhJX9z4I/AAAAAAAAABU/YH6YB-igl8Q/s1600-h/IMG_0155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_7mhJX9z4I/AAAAAAAAABU/YH6YB-igl8Q/s320/IMG_0155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187837277903900546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it burned it occurred to my roommate to read online how to do an ear candle. So he looks it up and it says you need to cut the burned out part as it goes down. so my roommate took an oven mitt and a pair of scissors and proceeds to grab the charred paper and cut it off. the first cut went well until he got it outside where it burned a whole in the mitt. Then, a few minutes later he went to take a second cut. I asked him to be careful not to burn me. He looks at me, leans in to cut and then says, "I am not going to Burn you! Fool!" Just as he finishes "Fool" i feel a large piece of flaming paper hit my neck. "Whoops," he says. :) Can you see the red mark where i got burned?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_7m15X9z5I/AAAAAAAAABc/-NkWwUtcz8c/s1600-h/IMG_0164.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_7m15X9z5I/AAAAAAAAABc/-NkWwUtcz8c/s320/IMG_0164.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187837634386186130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The candles worked very well and i could hear much better. It was kinda gross to look inside...i probably wont do that again though...at least not for 6 months. That is how often the website told me to use them. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-3014296447047452232?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3014296447047452232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=3014296447047452232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3014296447047452232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3014296447047452232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/dont-smoke-kids.html' title='Don&apos;t Smoke Kids!'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_7mhJX9z4I/AAAAAAAAABU/YH6YB-igl8Q/s72-c/IMG_0155.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-1578882142392822126</id><published>2008-04-08T19:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:52:08.036-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embarrassing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='maintenance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='andrew'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexy'/><title type='text'>The Mexican Surprise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_w17Ux6dsI/AAAAAAAAABM/zdXzFsY-3eA/s1600-h/IMG_0146.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_w17Ux6dsI/AAAAAAAAABM/zdXzFsY-3eA/s320/IMG_0146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187080164130584258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I woke up a little late this morning, left my room, rubbed my groggy eyes, and found that my roommate Andrew had felt ambitious enough to get down on his hands and knees in the bathroom to fix the rubber cove base that had come unglued from the tub. His butt was sticking out at me and so i thought it would be hilarious to point at him and say, "Hey sexy man!" Just as the words left my mouth a 40 year old Latino maintenance man craned his head around and asked "Que!?" Only then did it occur to me that Andrew would never be on his hands and knees on the bathroom floor to fix a stupid piece of rubber that had come unglued from the tub. I totally sexually harassed the maintenance guy. That is embarrassing. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-1578882142392822126?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1578882142392822126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=1578882142392822126' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1578882142392822126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/1578882142392822126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/mexican-surprise.html' title='The Mexican Surprise'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_w17Ux6dsI/AAAAAAAAABM/zdXzFsY-3eA/s72-c/IMG_0146.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-967352695116399996</id><published>2008-04-05T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:52:08.558-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roommates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><title type='text'>Last night with Ben</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o070x6dpI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xiHKohKk77k/s1600-h/ultimate+piggy-back.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o070x6dpI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xiHKohKk77k/s320/ultimate+piggy-back.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186516123255469714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o070x6dqI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dufI__ZCca4/s1600-h/IMG_1403.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o070x6dqI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dufI__ZCca4/s320/IMG_1403.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186516123255469730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o08Ux6drI/AAAAAAAAABE/pktsoI-npCk/s1600-h/IMG_1279.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o08Ux6drI/AAAAAAAAABE/pktsoI-npCk/s320/IMG_1279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186516131845404338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends are leaving me here and soon i will be all alone. Josh left last weekend and Ben is leaving this weekend. Andrew leaves next week. what a sad time for me. Ben and i recorded this song tonight. Ben learned it on the banjo (a previously untouched instrument for him earlier today) and this song has been a favorite of mine for a while...   Ok i can't get the stupid video function to work on blogger so i am just going to write about how sad I am that my friends are gone. It is hard because i know I wont get to see them for a long time. It is really good though because each of us are moving on to better things. I have been very inspired by my roommates and those around me to do more good things than I would have done on my own. I don't know how I could ever begin to repay them...although if they read this i bet they will ask for money as a start in repayment. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-967352695116399996?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/967352695116399996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=967352695116399996' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/967352695116399996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/967352695116399996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/last-night-with-ben.html' title='Last night with Ben'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_o070x6dpI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xiHKohKk77k/s72-c/ultimate+piggy-back.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-3764829837353649177</id><published>2008-04-04T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T18:52:08.673-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crawfish'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Pinchy? Are you in there little buddy?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_b5u0x6doI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6pfmat_xx5M/s1600-h/IMG_0119.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_b5u0x6doI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6pfmat_xx5M/s320/IMG_0119.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185606603800999554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today i for lunch we went to Jumbo Buffet. This is primarily a Chinese buffet but they have several other types of food there as well. Every time i go i am surprised at the selection. This time i went in and for some rice and was startled by 100 little eyes staring out at me from the pan next to the rice. I was psyched out by it so badly that i was afraid to take one for fear that it was still alive. My uncle eased my fears and eventually talked me into trying one. I was hesitant still and as i pulled the tail off to get the tiny morsel of meat i decided that i don't mind eating any animal that doesn't look at me as i eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps...it tasted like crab...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-3764829837353649177?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3764829837353649177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=3764829837353649177' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3764829837353649177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/3764829837353649177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/pinchy-are-you-in-there-little-buddy.html' title='Pinchy? Are you in there little buddy?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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/_GE7r_dyAMBs/R_b5u0x6doI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6pfmat_xx5M/s72-c/IMG_0119.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-7113562159612984843</id><published>2008-04-03T23:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T00:11:42.871-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gifts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='regifting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='christmas'/><title type='text'>Stolen gifts</title><content type='html'>Today i was reminiscing about my childhood. I thought about the time when i was 7 and a family friend of ours had scolded me sharply because i was pressing his ear and making his hearing-aid beep loudly. The blood rushed to my head as i got angry with him for not dealing with a curious child more kindly. I was such a sensitive little kid. I remember being so hurt by it. I decided to call my mom and talk about it with her because i thought it was kinda funny and i knew she would get a kick out of remembering this grumpy old man.&lt;br /&gt;After i told her my story and we laughed about it she told me a story that was even better. We had him and his wife over for dinner one night around Christmastime. A few days later they gave my mom a Christmas present. My mom opened it and found that it was a little book that her sister had made for her. He had stolen the booklet and written in it and given it to my mom for Christmas. You would think that if he was going to be cheap he could have at least re-gifted a fruit cake or something... Come to think of it... I am not sure why we even liked those people...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-7113562159612984843?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7113562159612984843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=7113562159612984843' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7113562159612984843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/7113562159612984843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/stolen-gifts.html' title='Stolen gifts'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-2457635258060961846</id><published>2008-01-27T18:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T18:17:57.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flight School</title><content type='html'>Well I have really let this blog get out of date. And what in the world was that last entry all abour anyways? Talk about boring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have some big decisions to make about my life in the next few days so i will hopefully get back to writing on my blog soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-2457635258060961846?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2457635258060961846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=2457635258060961846' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/2457635258060961846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/2457635258060961846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2008/01/flight-school.html' title='Flight School'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-2777579054308722158</id><published>2007-12-10T10:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T00:38:35.594-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='making friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='international relations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='terrorism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iran'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='president bush'/><title type='text'>Why Can't We Play Nice?</title><content type='html'>The news today spoke about Iran and as I was watching I wondered why the United States continues to make enemies. What are we doing to make other people so angry. Is it really the fact that we are a very wealthy country that causes nations such as Iran to despise us? I do know that a lot of resentment in the middle east comes because of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;US's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; unflinching support of the nation of Israel. Why do we need to go about creating hate beyond that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually have nothing against President Bush. I don't think that he is the best president ever but I also don't think that he is the worst. I do not agree with the statements he made about forcing Iran to halt their nuclear enrichment program through more sanctions and more pressure. This statement was made after a US intelligence report that said that Iran halted their nuclear weapons program in 2003. We have some sort of "proof" that Iran is not currently seeking nuclear weapons. Now that the Iranians can let their guard down and stop being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;afraid&lt;/span&gt; of a US attack Ithink we should be using this time to patch relations with Iran. Not further sanction them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the world was a playground the US would be the bully who is holding Iran upside down trying to get lunch money from them. Then after it is apparent that the kid has no money we punch him in the gut until he tells us where he gets his food and demand that he give us his food. Now in this example the good that we want isn't food but our own security but I don't know when it has ever been a good idea to punch people to get their food. It generally just causes more resentment and so far that mentality has caused serious tragedies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, in no way, condone Harris and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Klebold's&lt;/span&gt; actions on A&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pril&lt;/span&gt; 20, 1999. Killing another human being who is not trying to kill you is wrong. Killing innocent students is very wrong no matter how angry someone may feel. That being said, i would like to point out the similarities between what happened at Columbine and what is happening in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Harris and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kelbold&lt;/span&gt; felt like they had been picked on by the bigger, stronger, and more popular crowd. -- Terrorists see America as their big, strong, and popular bully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Harris and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Klebold&lt;/span&gt; felt that what they were doing was important to make a statement and get revenge for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;perceived&lt;/span&gt; or actual offenses &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;committed&lt;/span&gt; against them. --Terrorists (often coming from countries like Iran) also would like revenge for years of perceived or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;actual&lt;/span&gt; offenses &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;committed&lt;/span&gt; by America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) It is easy for guns and weapons to get into the wrong hands &lt;strong&gt;ANYWHERE.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) No matter how much the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;juvenile&lt;/span&gt; courts tried to correct the symptoms of Harris and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Klebold's&lt;/span&gt; problems they were never able to root out the core of their issues. The punishments just caused them to become more subversive. -- Attacking more countries and "bullying/sanctioning" them is just going to cause more deep seated hatred of the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The United States of America needs to stop and accept responsibility for it's actions. We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to express &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;sympathy&lt;/span&gt; for what has happened and come to the table to work things out with our smaller co-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;inhibitors&lt;/span&gt;. If we can use this time to admit we were wrong about Iran's nuclear program then maybe they will help us to restore order to Iraq. We could work out a deal with Iran that they would police their borders and stop the influx of weapons and foreign fighters and we would be able to aid in keeping peace in Iraq.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was a bully and I wanted to benefit myself i would find it much more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;beneficial&lt;/span&gt; to befriend the small nerdy kid on the playground because the chances are that that kid has wealthy parents who would take me out places and be just delighted to have me around. I would be pleasant in their house and respectful to their son. Let us befriend Iran.  Let us work together. Could it really be that hard? I find it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;difficult&lt;/span&gt; to believe that there is no way to work things out with this country which we consider our enemy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-2777579054308722158?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2777579054308722158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=2777579054308722158' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/2777579054308722158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/2777579054308722158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-cant-we-play-nice.html' title='Why Can&apos;t We Play Nice?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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-2476276196194933790.post-389670018870106002</id><published>2007-11-21T00:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T01:39:50.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken Brakes or Broken Face?</title><content type='html'>I have always considered myself someone who can fix most things. It came to my attention lately that i needed to change the brakes on my car. Having few tools of my own i waited for a chance to go to my parent's house. Thanksgiving (happy turkey-day everyone!) gave me a good chance to pull off the old pads and replace them with new ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having driven my car into the garage, with all of the necessary tools for the job at hand, I proceeded to take the lugs off the tires. This is a simple procedure that I have performed a multitude of times. This time things were different. I applied my weight to the tire-iron and the lugs wouldn't budge. I jumped up and down trying to force them but they were stuck good. It was clear to me that i needed to approach this with a little more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ingenuity&lt;/span&gt;. I grabbed a steel pipe placed it over the handle of the wrench and applied force to release the bolt. The lugs were still stubborn. I ended up bending my only lug removal tool. I took my dad's tire-iron out of his car and used that. It straight away broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time for a trip to Big-O-Tires to have them removed by the professionals. they removed and replaced them for free and then we drove it home for a second try. All but one of the lugs loosened easily on each of the tires. I was trying to take the last left front lug off. Applying pressure with a newly purchased multi-headed, tire-removing monster. As i was pushing down the integrity of the metal failed me again. anyone that has ever jumped up and down on something that breaks knows that acceleration soon follows. My head accelerated right towards the hood of my car. After a really fat lip, a bloody nose, and 3 broken wrenches I surrendered. my plan to save some money had failed and I, having been humbled, humiliated and hurt, took my car back into Big-O-Tires to have them put new breaks on my car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hereby relinquish my self-acclaimed title of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;handyman&lt;/span&gt;. i will now join the slew of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;shlubs&lt;/span&gt; that pay people when anything needs to be fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Righty&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;tighty&lt;/span&gt;, lefty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;loosey&lt;/span&gt;. I know the rhyme and i was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; twisting to the left. the left should have loosened the lugs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-389670018870106002?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/389670018870106002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=389670018870106002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/389670018870106002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/389670018870106002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2007/11/broken-brakes-or-broken-face.html' title='Broken Brakes or Broken Face?'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2476276196194933790.post-642157144697437381</id><published>2007-11-14T10:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T11:21:17.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jobs Are Like Girlfriends</title><content type='html'>Jobs are like girlfriends. I had a friend get laid off today and it reminded me of how it felt to get laid off. The only thing i could think of was that it was just as if i had been dumped by a girl. my heart was sad, I lost my appetite, and all i wanted to do was to get revenge on my employer for kicking my butt back on the street. Yep....just like getting dumped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Rebound&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another funny thing is that in order to get over being laid off you need to go get another job. so you take the first offer that comes up. For our purposes here lets call it..."the rebound" you most likely wont like this job very much but it is comforting to have something stable that will comfort you. of course there is baggage left over from your last job. You are always afraid of being fired again at the whim of the economy. You cling to the job you dislike like it was the only thing worthwhile for you. At this point one of two things has to happen: you can either learn to enjoy your new job and stay with it, or you come to the realization that it is never going to work out and you are just using the job for comfort. You then leave that job, most likely to the regret of your employer, and start a search for a better match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The approach i most often use.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I prefer to stay in bed for a few days after losing my job. After 3 or 4 days of sulking in the dark &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;abyss&lt;/span&gt; of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bunk bed&lt;/span&gt; i emerge to see the sunlight. Then i pretend like everything is normal as i look for new work. I am ultra cautious for the first little bit never wanting to commit to any job for fear that I won't love it as much as my last job. Sometimes, I just pretend like i don't even really want a job. I play it cool for a little while hoping to maintain the image that i don't care. Eventually as I go unemployed i actually grow accustomed to not having a job and actually enjoy myself for a while. then i run out of money or the ability to endure and start searching for good employment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In Conclusion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go on forever but i am sure people are bored as it is. I welcome your comments and additions to my analogy of how jobs are like girlfriends. (boyfriends...if that is what you are into)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2476276196194933790-642157144697437381?l=dluxlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/feeds/642157144697437381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2476276196194933790&amp;postID=642157144697437381' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/642157144697437381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2476276196194933790/posts/default/642157144697437381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dluxlife.blogspot.com/2007/11/jobs-are-like-girlfriends.html' title='Jobs Are Like Girlfriends'/><author><name>dlux</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12166129780383418193</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></feed>
