<?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-6614670</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:31:54.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CRAZY PILLS</title><subtitle type='html'>Random stuff.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-110403052335765361</id><published>2004-12-25T19:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-25T19:08:43.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Uh oh!  I'm Employed!</title><content type='html'>Yes! After suffering multiple rejections and seemingly endless days of searching, I have a job again! Woohoo! And yet, I am sad. My doggie will no longer have a constant companion. I miss my previous co-workers. I miss being retired. Well, good benefits and bad pay is better than having neither. I still live a long way from my job. Well, happy holidays to all. Especially my friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-110403052335765361?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/110403052335765361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/110403052335765361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_12_01_archive.html#110403052335765361' title='Uh oh!  I&apos;m Employed!'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-109121437818215571</id><published>2004-07-30T11:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-30T12:08:29.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is the end...</title><content type='html'>After today, one less cowboy will hang his hat at the lab.  That's right our last day is upon us.  No more cells no more solutions, final or otherwise.  This calls for a celebration!  We declare two days of partying.  The first is for the last day of work.  The second for a friends birthday.  In between we must remember old Francis Crick who died on Thursday.  Let's not forget Rosalind Franklin either.  She got the short end of the stick on that deal.  Oh well, so much ending so much to drink to.  Should we find gainful employment in the not to distant future then another party will be forthcoming.  Until then, Adieu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-109121437818215571?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/109121437818215571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/109121437818215571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109121437818215571' title='This is the end...'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108638766434158340</id><published>2004-06-04T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T15:21:04.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DEET, Really bad for dogs...</title><content type='html'>I was at a barbecue and we were all hanging around outside.  So, to keep the mosquitoes from my precious blood I put on some bug repellent.  The label said that the product contains DEET. I didn't think anything of it until I got home.  I was pretty tired and I laid down.  The stupid dog jumps on the bed and licks my leg, just once.  Then it starts shaking like crazy and can't coordinate any of its movements.  Like it had been drinking the whole time I was gone.  Well, this was pretty crazy.  I don't really like the dog, but I didn't want it to suffer.  So, I took a baseball bat and... just kidding, it got better.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.  No really, the seizure thing was for real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108638766434158340?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108638766434158340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108638766434158340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108638766434158340' title='DEET, Really bad for dogs...'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108402602531704240</id><published>2004-05-08T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-08T07:24:54.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parking Nazis</title><content type='html'>I got a parking ticket yesterday.  You deserved it.  I wouldn't care except that the parking office told me that the place where I parked was free. Nothing is free. So, I've been parking there and nothing happens until yesterday.  Geez! I only have a week left at the job.  You bum.  What a way to usher me out.  Here's your parking ticket, thank you and goodbye.  I don't think they would say thank you. Guess I'll have to whyle out and go postal now.  It's pretty much expected right...  Right!  Yeah, you better run, B!^(#.  Sorry, I phase in and out of insanity.  I swear it will happen again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108402602531704240?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108402602531704240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108402602531704240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108402602531704240' title='Parking Nazis'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108342885703225124</id><published>2004-05-01T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-01T09:31:56.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CIGAWEED!</title><content type='html'>Forbes magazine had an article on marijuana and how big an export it is for Canada.  Yes, our furry neighbors to the north are growing it by the moose-load.  Since the mad cow scare and the drop off of beef exports, wacky tabacky is their second largest export.  What's more crazy is the mark-up by the time the product hits the streets!  We have decided that we are in the wrong business, eh.  So off to Alberta, Quebec, Montreal, wherever, we shall go!  By we I of course mean we.  But don't tell my other personality about this.  I can't wait to see the look on his face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108342885703225124?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108342885703225124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108342885703225124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108342885703225124' title='CIGAWEED!'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108342298725425201</id><published>2004-05-01T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-01T07:54:06.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Been a long time...</title><content type='html'>Well, here we are at work, again.  Last weeks wedding was quite enjoyable aside from all the country music.  Meeting old roommates is a touchy thing.  Depending on what's going on in their lives, they may not be interested in the past at all.  That was the case this time.  Well, weddings are all about the moment and the future they represent.  I guess reliving old times is best kept for a fishing trip or something like that.  The money spent on going to the wedding will take some time to replenish.  Oh well, at least we enjoyed trouncing around some caverns.  Makes us feel even more insignificant when compared to the millions of years required to make something so beautiful.  It only takes humans less than a blink of the geological eye to ruin it.  Burn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108342298725425201?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108342298725425201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108342298725425201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108342298725425201' title='Been a long time...'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108220773085438683</id><published>2004-04-17T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-17T06:19:31.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OOOOHHHHH CRRRRAP!</title><content type='html'>I got into work this morning and it was overrun by people.  They are doing a science camp / baby sitting for a bunch of high school nerds who took their Saturday morning to pretend they are interested in science so that they can put this crap on their resume.  What a bunch of faking pukes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108220773085438683?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108220773085438683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108220773085438683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108220773085438683' title='OOOOHHHHH CRRRRAP!'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108101945786609654</id><published>2004-04-03T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-03T11:17:25.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On a lollipop...</title><content type='html'>So I was just sitting here with a friend, who's social security number shall remain private, and we were analyzing the Bomba Acida lollipop.  Does it have holes to create the effect of a bomb about to explode?  Or, is that just a part of cheap manufacturing?  Then I saw that it is made in Guadalajara Mexico.  So now we know. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108101945786609654?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108101945786609654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108101945786609654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108101945786609654' title='On a lollipop...'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108100493207019881</id><published>2004-04-03T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-03T07:13:32.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I mention personal assistants....?</title><content type='html'>OK, so no one has expressed an interest in F.O.W.L.  Perhaps we need to "up the stakes."  Think about how much better your life would be with a personal assistant.  They could get you coffee, pick up your dry-cleaning, drive you to work, do your work.  Yes personal assistants are the wave of the future.  As such, F.O.W.L. is now taking applications for personal assistants.  We are seeking subservient-minded individuals with a passion for servitude.  Oh yeah, and you have to be really, really, ridiculously good looking.  Ambiturners only.  A bachelor's degree in psychology or political science is a plus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108100493207019881?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108100493207019881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108100493207019881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108100493207019881' title='Did I mention personal assistants....?'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108100412675851180</id><published>2004-04-03T06:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-03T06:59:07.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a funny thing, time...</title><content type='html'>Hello peoples!  Here I sit and here I wait.  Same old shit on a different date.  Nothing really important to do.  Oh wait!  I'll tie my shoes.  Okay that's done, and once again, I sit and wait for time to end.  Because time is a shadowy beast sneaking by and before you know it it's time to die.  Don't take this too seriously my friends.  When we can no longer laugh that is the real end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108100412675851180?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108100412675851180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108100412675851180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108100412675851180' title='It&apos;s a funny thing, time...'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108041905423371442</id><published>2004-03-27T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-27T12:30:42.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing F.O.W.L.</title><content type='html'>We are holding open auditions for those interested in becoming a member of &lt;br /&gt;F.O.W.L.  "The Fiendish Organization for World Larceny."  We have 401k, medical, dental, and all the standard perks of belonging to an evil organization.  Including my personal favorite, secret lairs.  Some of you may ask, "What are the qualities you are looking for in agents of F.O.W.L.?"  First, you must have or know someone who has a bachelor's degree (Poli-Sci and Psych. degrees don't count).  Second, you must have access to a blog network as we will communicate highly sensitive information in coded messages via blogs.  You know, the hide in plain sight bit.  Third, you should have an inclination towards "hanging out."  Last, but certainly not least, you must have that certain je ne sais quoi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108041905423371442?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108041905423371442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108041905423371442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108041905423371442' title='Introducing F.O.W.L.'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108040814420647225</id><published>2004-03-27T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-03T07:15:38.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waffles, Bands, and Margaritas?</title><content type='html'>Ooooodalaly!  The almighty stomach has been sated!  Ground beef patties made possible by a kindly donation from the Art Foundation.  I would also like to give honorable mention to the good folks at Diet Rite for making the yummy tasting white grape drink that kept me from choking while I wolfed the patties.  Hey! that's funny. "Wolf the patties."  It would make a good band name.  Also Twine.  I like the word twine.  just say it out loud and you'll  see.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108040814420647225?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108040814420647225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108040814420647225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108040814420647225' title='Waffles, Bands, and Margaritas?'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108040144457481470</id><published>2004-03-27T07:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-27T07:35:18.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So have you ever gone to a bar, ordered a margarita, and just sat there without drinking one bit of it?  Me neither.  You would have to be crazy to do that.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108040144457481470?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108040144457481470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108040144457481470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108040144457481470' title=''/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-108039930810184550</id><published>2004-03-27T06:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-27T07:02:04.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Once again we find ourselves here, working on a Saturday.  We? Who's we?  I know you're not including me in this...  Hush!  As I was saying, I wish I had some waffles.  Waffles?  What do waffles have to do with working on a Saturday?  Nothing.  So?  So what?  That's not what you were saying.  Very well.  I know others are working on saturday and I sympathize.  There, are you happy now?  Waffles and what.  What?  What do you want on the waffles.  Now you want to talk about the waffles.  Well I thought you wanted to.  Look, I don't have any waffles.  So to continue to talk about them would be downright cruel.  Cruel?  Yes cruel.  Define cruel.  Cruel is being on the Atkins diet and having your "friend" butter up some bread and eat it all right in front of you.  Well of course they're going to eat it all you can't have any now can you.  That is beside the point.  Is it?  Yes.  Fine.  Fine.     &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-108039930810184550?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108039930810184550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/108039930810184550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108039930810184550' title=''/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-107972582533113854</id><published>2004-03-19T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-27T07:29:43.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How about a tree?</title><content type='html'>Note to self, ahem, "Indian food and white skirts don't mix."  Unless you are attempting to give them character.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-107972582533113854?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107972582533113854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107972582533113854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107972582533113854' title='How about a tree?'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-107972251807018647</id><published>2004-03-19T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-19T10:58:38.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So is time a line?  Most of us are subjected to time lines in textbooks, but think about it.  The time line fails to explain the circumstances that allowed the event to occur.  These circumstances are as important, if not more so, than the event itself.  So is time a tree?  Sure. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-107972251807018647?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107972251807018647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107972251807018647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107972251807018647' title=''/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-107920493164226299</id><published>2004-03-13T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-27T07:28:18.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So, you want to be a chicken strip?</title><content type='html'>MmmmmMmmmmMmmmm! Yummy chicken strips and potato wedges made possible by a grant from the Art foundation! Hey don't forget to mention the mountain dew code red! I know, I know, I was getting to that! I'm not going to argue. You already are.... Doh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-107920493164226299?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107920493164226299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107920493164226299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107920493164226299' title='So, you want to be a chicken strip?'/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-107919340367141685</id><published>2004-03-13T07:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-13T07:59:55.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored, no beer and no tv make me somthing something.....bored? Don't mind if I am! Oh wait! Yes I do! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I'm typing to myself again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-107919340367141685?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107919340367141685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107919340367141685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107919340367141685' title=''/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6614670.post-107919281325907417</id><published>2004-03-13T07:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-13T07:50:05.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Up and walking?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6614670-107919281325907417?l=lookoutbelow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107919281325907417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6614670/posts/default/107919281325907417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lookoutbelow.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107919281325907417' title=''/><author><name>Art</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05815301992096035325</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></entry></feed>
