<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sat, 19 Dec 2009 04:38:52 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Things like an evil octopus...</title><description>It has to do with my little brother ... inside joke.</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-2418579636763242195</guid><pubDate>Fri, 18 Dec 2009 21:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-18T16:42:43.710-07:00</atom:updated><title>Unjust Vilification</title><description>This may sound petty for a blog, particularly as I have not written anything in the last four months, but I feel compelled to stand and defend myself. A certain wonderful person, who will remain nameless, has taken it upon &lt;a href="http://thekodiebear.blogspot.com/"&gt; herself&lt;/a&gt; to portray me as a spineless woosie who she delights in tricking into kissing children who have been licking toilet brushes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to take this opportunity to say that she is the best person I know and I am lucky to have married her, but I feel I must stand for my honor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SywR-UFPt2I/AAAAAAAAAGk/Gy5fWzj4wl0/s1600-h/bacon-wrapped-breakfast-hotdog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 111px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SywR-UFPt2I/AAAAAAAAAGk/Gy5fWzj4wl0/s200/bacon-wrapped-breakfast-hotdog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416724214060136290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;First, there is nothing wrong with eating a hotdog for breakfast.  At least I didn’t wrap it in bacon!  Thought I have had the bacon dog before (thanks to Stan’s hot dogs on the bench) and it was most tasty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, I may be a bit vocal about my impending doom when I am ill but it is only done as an act of self preservation. Actual recent sick time conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me at the dinner table: “Honey, I don’t feel well.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Wonderful: “Suck it up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  “I think I am going to throw up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parker: “Mom, McKay is bugging me.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Wonderful: “You probably ate too much junk food.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;McKay singing:  “Rudolf the red nose…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get up and walk around the corner to the half bath.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Parker: “Stop it McKay!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Wonderful: “Parker let her sing!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me retching violently in the back ground for ten minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parker: “McKay, stop it!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hobble back to the living room, obviously spent from my intestinal battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Wonderful: “Where have you been?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  “Did you not hear me?  I was throwing up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Wonderful: “What, are you bulimic now too?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: “I love you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Wonderful: “Why does it stink over here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, as she stated “Davis men spoil the women in their lives. I think they are amazed that not only did we pick them, but we also stick with them.”  All that I have to say to that is…yes.  I am amazed that she has stuck with me for almost nine years now (thank you sweetie).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, the toilet brush thing was just mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SywS4yijezI/AAAAAAAAAG0/LgZZ27CUyuE/s1600-h/skull-toilet-brush-727697.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SywS4yijezI/AAAAAAAAAG0/LgZZ27CUyuE/s200/skull-toilet-brush-727697.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416725218668542770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-2418579636763242195?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/12/unjust-vilification.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SywR-UFPt2I/AAAAAAAAAGk/Gy5fWzj4wl0/s72-c/bacon-wrapped-breakfast-hotdog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-8587132315969680434</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2009 04:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-01T21:26:54.802-07:00</atom:updated><title>My First Birdie</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SnUUx01Z1KI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BTssPzfjU0s/s1600-h/golf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 191px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SnUUx01Z1KI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BTssPzfjU0s/s200/golf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365217377310594210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know this will not be big news for most anyone who plays golf but it was big for me.  Friday after work I took Parker down to play nine holes before it got too dark.  Parker’s average score per hole was 10-12 over par but he got better towards the end and we had a lot of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The exciting part for me was that I got my first birdie ever (one stroke under par).  It was a par three.  I hit my ball of to the left side of the green.  I got out my lob wedge and chipped it (yes dad, it was the “hinge and hold”).  Much to my astonishment it hit the green three feet in front of the hole and rolled right in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typically, I remember my decorum on the course but apparently I had a lapse at this moment.  The pro commented, as he smiled, the he could tell I had a good hole out there as he could hear my jubilations in the pro shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My apologies to anyone out there if I messed up your shot. :-p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-8587132315969680434?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-first-birdie.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SnUUx01Z1KI/AAAAAAAAAGc/BTssPzfjU0s/s72-c/golf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-5650233153704314836</guid><pubDate>Tue, 30 Jun 2009 00:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-12-07T10:44:04.557-07:00</atom:updated><title>Antwerp "Do"</title><description>I love performance art.   On this case it is a promotional stunt but it is still great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="275"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7EYAUazLI9k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7EYAUazLI9k&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="275"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most amazing part is how fast they all dissipate at the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-5650233153704314836?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/06/antwerp-do.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-8012727541043791237</guid><pubDate>Thu, 28 May 2009 02:46:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-27T20:48:25.742-07:00</atom:updated><title>Triceps and Triglycerides</title><description>I have recently been accused of telling very long stories, so I will try to start this one at the very beginning (as I have been told this is a very good place to start) and see how fast I can get through it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/Sh4JZMj_RUI/AAAAAAAAAGM/9LjT-hUe8JQ/s1600-h/triceps.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 184px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/Sh4JZMj_RUI/AAAAAAAAAGM/9LjT-hUe8JQ/s200/triceps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340716536581539138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Three months ago I went to see my doctor (don’t let the time frame discourage you).  I was informed that my triglycerides were high, very high, and my good cholesterol was, well, the polar opposite.  I was informed that if I didn’t want to have a heart attack before I hit 40 I needed to cut some of the fat and artificial sweeteners out of my diet and increase my physical activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As early death is not currently on my list of life ambitions, I have taken her advice.  I am down to one diet soda a day, I have been caught eating salads, I have grounded myself from all elevators (I work on the 5th floor), and I have taken to a religious regiment of increasingly difficult pushups. (This is where Missy makes a quip about my employer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have personally seen and felt the effects of these efforts for a while and have often tried to show my loving wife, Kodie, the effects of my efforts.  She typically says something to the effect of “Oooh, looking good honey!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being the trusting soul that I am, I have taken all of her compliments at face value until a few nights ago.  As I was changing to go to bed Kodie came in to our bathroom.  Looking at my arms she exclaimed “Holy cow!  You really are getting stronger!”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave her a dumb founded look and said, “This is what I have been showing you for that last few weeks.”  To which she replied, “Well I was just being NICE then.  THIS time I can REALLY see a difference!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This comment has left me with some conflicting emotions.  On one hand it looks like I am REALLY making some noticeable progress, which is good.  But on the other hand I no longer feel I trust in the sincerity of any compliments I may receive from my wife, which is not so good.  I am so torn over these conflicting feelings that I am at a loss as to the validity of my own perception of reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe early death isn’t such a bad idea…and what is a triglyceride anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-8012727541043791237?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/05/triceps-and-triglycerides.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/Sh4JZMj_RUI/AAAAAAAAAGM/9LjT-hUe8JQ/s72-c/triceps.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-7842638151902869833</guid><pubDate>Mon, 16 Mar 2009 15:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-03-16T08:49:22.893-07:00</atom:updated><title>Blatant Plagiarism on the Ides of March</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/Sb50XYfG30I/AAAAAAAAAF8/oZDfZKuzyp0/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 158px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/Sb50XYfG30I/AAAAAAAAAF8/oZDfZKuzyp0/s200/Untitled-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313812555402501954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister Rebecca said it so well.  Please read &lt;a href="http://jesseboo.blogspot.com/2009/03/ides-of-march.html"&gt; her blog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-7842638151902869833?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/03/blatant-plagiarism-on-ides-of-march.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/Sb50XYfG30I/AAAAAAAAAF8/oZDfZKuzyp0/s72-c/Untitled-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-946833595765888993</guid><pubDate>Sat, 21 Feb 2009 02:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-03-10T09:43:04.360-07:00</atom:updated><title>I scream, you scream, we all scream for an esophageal endoscopy!</title><description>Apparently I am lax in telling my parents and family important things that are going on in my life.  So here goes I spent the evening of Feb 18th in the ER.  As some of you may know I have a narrow esophagus.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SZ9uRkA8olI/AAAAAAAAAFs/QcoWQQ0xzcE/s1600-h/art-mgi6433_nava_fig1ab.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 194px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SZ9uRkA8olI/AAAAAAAAAFs/QcoWQQ0xzcE/s400/art-mgi6433_nava_fig1ab.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305080134070215250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  If you notice the lovely picture, the image on the left side is a normal esophagus and the image to the right, according to my wife who actually saw the pictures, looks more like mine.  I has happened in the past , more times than I care to admit, that in my exuberant love affair with food, that I put more down my drinking straw of a throat than it can handle.  I am not choking, I can breathe just fine, I just can’t swallow anything.  As long as my salivatory reflex is not working overtime I can occasionally wait it out until though the forces of nature, magic, and tectonic plate movement the obstruction clears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately this time my blood sugar decided to drop at the same time.  In and of itself this is not a life threatening or even an overly dangerous thing.  The common correction is to eat sugar (or something containing it, though I have resorted to spoonfuls of the granular stuff in the past).  But when you have something logged in your esophagus and can’t get anything into your stomach that could then disseminate into the rest of your body, the sum threat becomes much greater than these two relatively minor parts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story made short:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lodged Steak + Too Much Insulin in Blood = Trip to the ER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now you know, and knowing is half the battle…the other half is a really sore throat and a big hospital bill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-946833595765888993?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-scream-you-scream-we-all-scream-for.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SZ9uRkA8olI/AAAAAAAAAFs/QcoWQQ0xzcE/s72-c/art-mgi6433_nava_fig1ab.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-3755021137695580909</guid><pubDate>Mon, 09 Feb 2009 02:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-02-24T06:49:39.787-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>facebook</category><title>Facebook strikes again!</title><description>As I mentioned before I have a moderately addictive personality.  I wish this meant that people got addicted to me due to my personality; alas it only seems to mean that I become addicted to things very easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SY-dEYpmV4I/AAAAAAAAAFc/Q-65e5cDyoM/s1600-h/facebook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SY-dEYpmV4I/AAAAAAAAAFc/Q-65e5cDyoM/s200/facebook.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300627985100330882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For those who have known me a while this should not come as any kind of a surprise (fly tying, fishing, various video games etc.)  Fortunately, most of these activities come, I obsess over them until I prove to myself that I can do them as well as or better then most people and then I drop them like a bad habit (which by that time many of them have turned into).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Shane (by the way Kodie is now gunning for you buddy) my newest obsession is facebook.  If any of you out there want to add me as a friend…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to tell myself that my main joy in this social media tool is the ability to reconnect with long lost friends and to keep an arms length tab on them all.  And I do use it for that purpose.  I could also argue that I am on there so that I can better mange the fan page for work.  Unfortunately, those would only be half truths at best.  I am quite enamored with all of the little games associated with it.  I have limited myself to the ones I am in already or else I could play facebook games--well that is all I would do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The down side is that my blog has been long neglected.  And though it may suffer from immeasurable trauma, feelings of neglect and develop some self worth issues, it need not worry as the past has shown I will come back to it when my techno eyes stop roving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(P.S. Kodie didn’t laugh at this post, as she said, “Well it is just too true to life.”  Hmm thanks … I think?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-3755021137695580909?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2009/02/facebook-strikes-again.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SY-dEYpmV4I/AAAAAAAAAFc/Q-65e5cDyoM/s72-c/facebook.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-6958498479603398882</guid><pubDate>Sun, 28 Dec 2008 01:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-27T20:47:10.870-07:00</atom:updated><title>I must be REALLY sick</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SVb2sV6Ic3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/uoU_S9PVq7c/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SVb2sV6Ic3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/uoU_S9PVq7c/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284682454421500786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I can tell I am sick, really sick, not because of the antibiotics, the sinus infection, the pink eye, the generalized body aches, the vomiting , the fever, the sore throat, the head aches, or the doctor telling me I am sick.  No, I know I am really sick because my wife looked at me the other day and said, “I feel really sorry for you” and she meant it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t get me wrong here, my bride is a beautiful and a near saintly person in many aspects but sympathy is NOT one of them.  To illustrate, if you were walking on a trail and fell 30 feet down the mountain, she would not offer condolences or treat your wounds.  No, she would asses the damage (assuming you aren’t bleeding) and tell you to, and I quote, “Suck it up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her defense about 80% of the time she is right.  There really is nothing else that you can do so you should just suck it up and keep going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make a long story even longer, the fact that she told me she felt sorry for me was not something I expected to hear short of my death bed.  And to be completely honest, on my death bed I expect her to tell me it is my own fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man I MUST be sick.  I think I see a light…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-6958498479603398882?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-must-be-really-sick.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SVb2sV6Ic3I/AAAAAAAAAFM/uoU_S9PVq7c/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-5343098571793854803</guid><pubDate>Tue, 02 Dec 2008 03:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-01T20:58:41.046-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Twilight</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>bad movies</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>date night</category><title>Worst movie … ever!</title><description>Well that is a hard title to assign, particularly of late. I recently saw two real “winners”.  One of them I shouldn’t have been too surprised with, after all it was picked by Parker and McKay.  This cinemagraphic classic is titled “Beverly Hills Chihuahua.”  And it … uhm…well … Parker liked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/STSviq0uWvI/AAAAAAAAAE8/VOVqMPMtg94/s1600-h/twilight_bigteaserposter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/STSviq0uWvI/AAAAAAAAAE8/VOVqMPMtg94/s320/twilight_bigteaserposter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275034073703537394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The more surprising one was Twilight.  It was surprising because, one I actually went to see it, and more so because Kodie actually picked it.  It was single handedly one of the WORST movies I have ever seen.  Being the supportive husband I let Kodie pick the movie we saw and she dragged me to that waste of film, I was hoping against hope that she was going to pick the new Bond movie alas it was not to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized in full horror what I had been dragged into when the male protagonist first appeared on the screen.  He was greeted by a cacophony of high pitched, heart throb induced squealing.  I was either in a room full of stuck pigs or 14 yr old girls; unfortunately, as I looked around, there was no future bacon in sight.  Nor were there more than six other testosterone bearing men in the room (and two of them brought books, a wise decision).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I would find a vampire move I wouldn’t like.  I stand corrected.  There go two hours of my life I will never get back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-5343098571793854803?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/12/worst-movie-ever.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/STSviq0uWvI/AAAAAAAAAE8/VOVqMPMtg94/s72-c/twilight_bigteaserposter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-863788683732774210</guid><pubDate>Tue, 18 Nov 2008 02:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-17T20:26:04.979-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>French toast</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Denny's addiction</category><title>Hello my name is Bulbo and I am a Denny's-holic.</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SSIxfMtRQaI/AAAAAAAAAEk/uECke1EQaU8/s1600-h/dennys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 163px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SSIxfMtRQaI/AAAAAAAAAEk/uECke1EQaU8/s200/dennys.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269828926033707426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am finally willing to accept the truth.  I am addicted to Denny’s.  Does that mean I am ready to face my inner demons, fight the brave fight and emerge a better man for it?  Sadly … no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can tear off the back two thirds of the menu at Denny’s and not lose anything worth missing (except the diet coke).  If you order anything but breakfast at this shrine with the yellow sign, you are a sad and sick little person.  I am sorry if you are one of these poor lost souls but that is just the way it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been known to venture forth on my pilgrimage of indulgence at the drop of a hat at any hour of the day or night.  Nothing sings to my gut like a French toast slam with a side of hash and keep the diet coke a ‘coming ( I base my tip entirely on how full my diet coke is at any given point during the meal).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SSIxqrQX83I/AAAAAAAAAEs/unTGFWuiGN8/s1600-h/french-toast.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 195px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SSIxqrQX83I/AAAAAAAAAEs/unTGFWuiGN8/s200/french-toast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269829123212571506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My wife doesn’t understand the depth of my problem but occasionally she allows me my guilty pleasure.  This Saturday was one such blessed moment.  On any given weekend if I am woken at 5:45 a.m. due to a size six toddler foot planted firmly in my stomach half falling out of bed being held in only by the tenuous grasp of entangled sheets, grumpy MAY come close to describing the beginnings of my emotional state.  But this particular morning my wife piped up with the unexpected comment, “Let’s all go to Denny’s.”  Suddenly the heavens opened and a choir of angels serenaded five befuddled people in pajamas as they piled into the mini van and were off to the greatest place on earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’ll have a French toast slam…”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-863788683732774210?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/11/hello-my-name-is-bulbo-and-i-am-dennys.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SSIxfMtRQaI/AAAAAAAAAEk/uECke1EQaU8/s72-c/dennys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-6597920846099243268</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 17:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-07T11:28:32.592-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>tolerance</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>Obama</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>history</category><title>Historic Day</title><description>I know I am not the first to say this, but I feel compelled to say it anyway.  (Plus it helps me keep up my apparent theme of presidential pictures.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SRSHhcrsccI/AAAAAAAAAEc/73_bZRhf4Es/s1600-h/Obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 197px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SRSHhcrsccI/AAAAAAAAAEc/73_bZRhf4Es/s200/Obama.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265982873007845826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Be you red, blue, green or some other shade of political affiliation, the people of the United States of America have spoken.  We have our first African American president elect.  Breaking from the mold of upper class older white males, we have made a very public step towards the equality our nation has paid lip service to for so long.  As Tomas Jefferson penned in what may be called our nation’s first cry for equality, the Declaration of Independence, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. Did I vote for him?  A. Does it matter?  I am writing this not in support of or as opposition to his political stance or proposed policy issues.  I am writing because I am awestruck that we have come to this point.  Call me a dreamer, but I like to see this as a very public expression that as a nation we are really moving towards greater tolerance of those who are different than we are.  Mayhap in my life time there will truly be a day where as MLK said “my … little children will … live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I said it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-6597920846099243268?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/11/historic-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SRSHhcrsccI/AAAAAAAAAEc/73_bZRhf4Es/s72-c/Obama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-4530889107897602749</guid><pubDate>Wed, 05 Nov 2008 22:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-05T18:49:53.896-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>dependency</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>social experiment</category><title>The blind "following" the blind</title><description>Call it a social experiment, call it a overdeveloped need for acceptance, whatever, but please follow my blog.  Not that I have a pressing need for you to feel as though you MUST know what ever I may say.  No it isn’t that at all.  In fact I fear it is moderate case of compulsive hoarding syndrome. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SRIkN-lGdHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-rx5F8_6ukU/s1600-h/lincoln.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 158px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SRIkN-lGdHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-rx5F8_6ukU/s200/lincoln.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265310736905041010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take a perverse little joy in seeing the collection of faces.  Yes, I may have labeled it “minions” but I promise the servitude required is very minimal.  After the first year or so you won’t even notice…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The picture of honest Abe has nothing to do with the content of this post. Parker wanted it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-4530889107897602749?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/11/blind-following-blind.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SRIkN-lGdHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-rx5F8_6ukU/s72-c/lincoln.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-6994034512251017849</guid><pubDate>Mon, 03 Nov 2008 16:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-03T09:37:16.420-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>peer pressure</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>bananas</category><title>Catering to the masses</title><description>As Red Skelton stated and the Kinks reaffirmed in 1981, "Give the people what they want, and they'll come out for it."  Well the Kinks got the first bit right at least.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SQ8jrih4j6I/AAAAAAAAAD8/aHi_xkYLMPw/s1600-h/General%2520Dwight%2520D_%2520Eisenhower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 178px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SQ8jrih4j6I/AAAAAAAAAD8/aHi_xkYLMPw/s200/General%2520Dwight%2520D_%2520Eisenhower.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264465720329670562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So per request I present to you the following:&lt;br /&gt;1.  A picture of Dwight D. Eisenhower &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  A public admission that my Aunt Missy is funnier than I am. (but looks...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  For those of you who feel I don’t post enough pictures of my kids I give you the following link: &lt;a href="http://thekodiebear.blogspot.com/"&gt; thekodiebear.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In regard to my recent poll, “Why don’t you comment on my blog?”:&lt;br /&gt;1.  If you have nothing to say, just tell me how wonderful I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  For whoever voted that they hate me, well I hate you too.  Now let’s be friends.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SQ8nq39W3zI/AAAAAAAAAEE/L4KrSYB8woI/s1600-h/ninjanana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SQ8nq39W3zI/AAAAAAAAAEE/L4KrSYB8woI/s200/ninjanana.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264470106948689714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. This banana would keep my mouth shut too! (ware the ninjanana)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  For those who are afraid the internet will steal their soul, I Googled it and the answer was no.  So be at ease. (Bur wait isn’t Google on the internet? Hmmm)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that all of your concerns have been addressed let the open dialog commence!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-6994034512251017849?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/11/catering-to-masses.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SQ8jrih4j6I/AAAAAAAAAD8/aHi_xkYLMPw/s72-c/General%2520Dwight%2520D_%2520Eisenhower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-8205634592220331330</guid><pubDate>Tue, 21 Oct 2008 02:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-31T14:07:51.133-07:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>perceptions</category><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>pinstripes</category><title>90% of what people think of you ...</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SP0_UjYS_GI/AAAAAAAAADs/2M8xcpRxqMg/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SP0_UjYS_GI/AAAAAAAAADs/2M8xcpRxqMg/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259429562165689442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have been told that 90% of what people think of you is based on how you look or present yourself and only 10% is based on what you actually say.  Thus JFK can go to Berlin and call himself a jelly filled pastry (a simple error of syntax) and people still go wild, maybe they thought it was American slang ("hey, I’m a jelly donut!"). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus I present to you the new look of my blog.  I figure that after three years it could use a face lift.  Now as the theory goes, you will now find me to be more intelligent and sophisticated though the actual quality of the content will not change.  This is due entirely to your perception of the page.  Voila instant credibility!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-8205634592220331330?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/10/90-of-what-people-think-of-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SP0_UjYS_GI/AAAAAAAAADs/2M8xcpRxqMg/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-3788374583575358041</guid><pubDate>Wed, 15 Oct 2008 15:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-15T11:18:47.763-07:00</atom:updated><title>Blog on a Blog</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SPYyn1YO9xI/AAAAAAAAADQ/sMDL1qv66Ac/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SPYyn1YO9xI/AAAAAAAAADQ/sMDL1qv66Ac/s320/untitled.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257445274926642962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wonderful wife has started her own blog.  And the odd thing to me is that, at only two days old, &lt;a href="http://thekodiebear.blogspot.com/"&gt; her blog&lt;/a&gt; has received more comments than mine has cumulatively in its years of existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I guess people know what they like.  And honestly, I would pick her over me any day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-3788374583575358041?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/10/blog-on-blog.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SPYyn1YO9xI/AAAAAAAAADQ/sMDL1qv66Ac/s72-c/untitled.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-5983166269889938449</guid><pubDate>Wed, 03 Sep 2008 19:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-03T13:04:25.221-07:00</atom:updated><title>Life lessons are a good thing to gather.</title><description>I am starting to gather life lessons from others now so that i can improve my own quality of life early on.  Here is one that was shared with me recently:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Working people frequently ask me what I do to make my days interesting now that I am retired.  Well, for example the other day the wife and I went downtown and went into a shop.  We were only in there about 5 minutes.  When we came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket.  We went up to him and I said, “Come on man how about giving a senior citizen a break?”  He ignored us and continued writing the ticket.  I called him an ignorant fool.  He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires.  So the wife called him a butthead.  He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first.  Then he started writing a third ticket.  This went on for about 20 minutes.  The more we abused him, the more tickets he wrote.  About then our bus arrived.  We try to have fun each day now that we are retired.  It’s important at our age.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such wisdom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-5983166269889938449?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/09/life-lessons-are-good-thing-to-gather.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-6614740271358226192</guid><pubDate>Wed, 03 Sep 2008 19:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-03T12:38:24.310-07:00</atom:updated><title>Will I ever learn to say no?</title><description>As a continuing testament to the Sauron-esk power my daughter holds over me I present the following picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SL7m5o12yZI/AAAAAAAAACM/Zut63IBGfAE/s1600-h/DSCF3734.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SL7m5o12yZI/AAAAAAAAACM/Zut63IBGfAE/s400/DSCF3734.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241880894196074898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dare any man to look into those big blue eyes and deny the request, “Daddy, can I have a yellow kitty?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His name (though we have been instructed by our princess overlord we are to call it a her) is McKay Cat.  And I think it’s feet have touched the ground a total of 15 minutes in the 24 hours we have had “her”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is my Mt. Doom?  What small hairy footed creature will save me from this servitude?  How long must I toil in the shadow of her dominance over my will? I mean look at her…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SL7nQYl9EFI/AAAAAAAAACU/hLV9QPYnmkY/s1600-h/DSCF3741.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SL7nQYl9EFI/AAAAAAAAACU/hLV9QPYnmkY/s400/DSCF3741.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241881284971401298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…well maybe save me a little later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-6614740271358226192?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/09/will-i-ever-learn-to-say-no.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SL7m5o12yZI/AAAAAAAAACM/Zut63IBGfAE/s72-c/DSCF3734.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-5752064409229566927</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 Aug 2008 20:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-26T14:24:43.503-07:00</atom:updated><title>Back in Seattle again...</title><description>...out where a friend is a friend, where the local people feed on the Thai food full of weeds, oh I'm back in Seattle again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SLRudtUe7XI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aC6HVKpZXYU/s1600-h/seattle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SLRudtUe7XI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aC6HVKpZXYU/s320/seattle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238933723199499634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in Seattle for the week doing training on a data base program we use at work.  Pros and cons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pros:&lt;br /&gt;• I am in Seattle and I love it here&lt;br /&gt;• I am getting great training on a critical program for my job&lt;br /&gt;• I get to eat at so many of my old favorite restaurants&lt;br /&gt;• I get to do some of the things I had always meant to do when I was here before that I never got around to (i.e. the Underground Tour)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cons:&lt;br /&gt;• I am not home the second week in our home (I can’t help unpack)&lt;br /&gt;• I have found that if you don’t stay in touch with people it can be hard to find them 10 years later&lt;br /&gt;• Most difficult is … I miss my wife and kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I am going to revisit the international district.  Uwajimaya here I come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-5752064409229566927?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/08/back-in-seattle-again.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SLRudtUe7XI/AAAAAAAAAB8/aC6HVKpZXYU/s72-c/seattle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-494099373048806328</guid><pubDate>Thu, 07 Aug 2008 20:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-07T13:28:45.907-07:00</atom:updated><title>New House</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SJtad8PtYyI/AAAAAAAAAB0/AxZZ8NMCAJo/s1600-h/98331305.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SJtad8PtYyI/AAAAAAAAAB0/AxZZ8NMCAJo/s200/98331305.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231874862555685666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YEAH!  We are closing on our &lt;a href="http://www.johnlscott.com/propertydetail.aspx?GroupID=71146437&amp;ListingID=30983788&amp;Sort=0"&gt; new house&lt;/a&gt; on the 15th (barring unforeseen problems) *knocks on wood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-494099373048806328?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-house.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SJtad8PtYyI/AAAAAAAAAB0/AxZZ8NMCAJo/s72-c/98331305.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-7625051984486542034</guid><pubDate>Wed, 16 Jul 2008 15:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-16T08:14:47.174-07:00</atom:updated><title>Housing Update</title><description>Well I have three items to report to you all today (and I apologize for the delay in getting them out).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Least important on the list is that I am now 31.  Though I received many kind words, phone calls and gifts my favorite is my sister Boo’s &lt;a href="http://coloneldavisfamily.blogspot.com/2008/07/day-late.html"&gt;tribute&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SH4Pk9XABQI/AAAAAAAAABs/syuxw51uLAo/s1600-h/buying-a-green-home-for-sale-sold-sign.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SH4Pk9XABQI/AAAAAAAAABs/syuxw51uLAo/s200/buying-a-green-home-for-sale-sold-sign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223629745417094402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;2.  We sold our Orem home.  Mixed feelings on this one.  Very glad to have sold it and have gotten a pretty decent deal out of it as well.  Not so glad to officially have it out of my life (I have a lot of great memories there.  I brought home all of my babies to that house.  *sniffle*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  We made an offer on a home in Meridian and have since walked away from it.  I will admit we came in low but given the current market conditions I didn’t feel it was unreasonable.  Unfortunately, the sellers were unable to get the house down to a level that I felt worked for us (they may be over their heads in it) so we dropped it.  The real down point here is that my wife and I made the mistake of getting our kids excited about it before the deal was set in stone and now they are heart broken, but recovering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for all of you, that is the current update from the Boise front.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-7625051984486542034?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/07/housing-update.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SH4Pk9XABQI/AAAAAAAAABs/syuxw51uLAo/s72-c/buying-a-green-home-for-sale-sold-sign.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-4314493195229752682</guid><pubDate>Thu, 26 Jun 2008 14:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-26T07:19:04.800-07:00</atom:updated><title>One man's trash...</title><description>… is another man’s treasure.  Apparently the “treasure” of my cute little brick home in Orem is not viewed with as high a regard by others as I give it.  We have now had it on the market for 60 days.  We have been #2 on many buyers lists but we stay there.  No offers yet.  I am trying to be patient but…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My biggest concern is getting into another home in time for my son to start the school year.  He is hurting up here in Idaho.  He loves the farm but he REALLY misses having friends.  There are no kids close to his age in the area.  One of the saddest things I have ever seen in my life is watching my 5 yr old sitting on the front fence watching the 10 yr olds playing with their friends across the street.  He has literally done this for stretches of time up to 2 hours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel in my heart that I did the right thing bringing my family to Idaho but sometimes I wonder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-4314493195229752682?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/06/one-mans-trash.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-2035835540716899841</guid><pubDate>Fri, 30 May 2008 21:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-30T15:01:04.851-07:00</atom:updated><title>Hey remember these guys?! (Pork and Beans)</title><description>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/063FXpciDLg&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/063FXpciDLg&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember all of these guys from back when the intertron was fun.  Now it seems i only get on for work. :(  Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-2035835540716899841?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/05/hey-remeber-these-guys-pork-and-beans.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-4183619391981038447</guid><pubDate>Thu, 22 May 2008 16:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-22T14:29:32.209-07:00</atom:updated><title>Remember Drivers Ed?</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SDWgFc2JrHI/AAAAAAAAABk/VDwVeYzs9CM/s1600-h/red-light-200dr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SDWgFc2JrHI/AAAAAAAAABk/VDwVeYzs9CM/s200/red-light-200dr.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203240959999585394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just found this &lt;a href="http://money.aol.com/insurance/auto/smart-driver-quiz?icid=100214839x1202644587x1200107303"&gt; quiz&lt;/a&gt;.  If you must know I aced it *brushes nails on shirt*.  I know I am rather amazing *hears wife choking in disbelief in background*. HEY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-4183619391981038447?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/05/remeber-drivers-ed.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SDWgFc2JrHI/AAAAAAAAABk/VDwVeYzs9CM/s72-c/red-light-200dr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-213713095551470147</guid><pubDate>Tue, 13 May 2008 01:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-12T18:28:24.314-07:00</atom:updated><title>Dizzy</title><description>Have you ever had that feeling that EVERY thing is turned on its ear?  If you have then you know how I feel right now.  I left a home I loved, friends that I will always remember and a job that I was comfortable in and turned it all upside down.  True, I do feel that in the long run it was the best thing to do but EVERY thing seems to be in a state of flux now.  It is rather dissettling.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SCjuPi4_IVI/AAAAAAAAABc/Y5-CvcRxqIw/s1600-h/dizzyP.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SCjuPi4_IVI/AAAAAAAAABc/Y5-CvcRxqIw/s200/dizzyP.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199667720630509906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now live in Boise, or I should say in Emmett ( two e's two m's two t's and, until the last few years, two stoplights), in my in-laws home.  This is rather emasculating, though they are wonderful people and being very gracious about it.  I am buried in trying to learn a new job.  And did I mention that, out side of my family, I don't have any friends here yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I know, wa wa wa ... you did this to yourself.  I know this sounds like I am complaining and for that I apologize.  I do like it here!  It is simply the overwhelming feeling of being well... overwhelmed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-213713095551470147?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/05/dizzy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SCjuPi4_IVI/AAAAAAAAABc/Y5-CvcRxqIw/s72-c/dizzyP.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11362319.post-3189248292497664233</guid><pubDate>Mon, 21 Apr 2008 16:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-04-21T10:17:30.935-07:00</atom:updated><title>April 27th</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SAzL4ZDyXTI/AAAAAAAAABU/LrEwhifOD90/s1600-h/IMAGE_149.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SAzL4ZDyXTI/AAAAAAAAABU/LrEwhifOD90/s200/IMAGE_149.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191748640111222066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes it is my anniversary thank you!  But it is also the day we are blessing little Deacon.  I have had a little bit going on in my life lately and have been told that I was quite negligent in not posting this earlier.  My most sincere apologies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please call me and let me know if you plan to attend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11362319-3189248292497664233?l=eviloctopus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://eviloctopus.blogspot.com/2008/04/april-27th.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Bulbo Loamsdown)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_fG8NISH4Yuc/SAzL4ZDyXTI/AAAAAAAAABU/LrEwhifOD90/s72-c/IMAGE_149.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>