<?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-5596195</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:20:06.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MaRtiNi TiMe</title><subtitle type='html'>"It doesn't matter what they say about you, as long as you are on the front page!" -Christian Dior, circa 1947</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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>119</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596195.post-109372342791546748</id><published>2004-08-28T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-28T13:03:47.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I would like to apologise for my last post's comments about the goth-punks.  I was just angry at my cousin and I said things that I didn't really mean.  I do respect them for stressing their point, and I agree that it is just eyeliner, however I still don't want my cousin involved.  They argue that they are just being individuals, and that is so, until they start drawing on the faces of naive </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109372342791546748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109372342791546748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109372342791546748' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-109346912126892717</id><published>2004-08-25T16:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-25T14:25:21.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Has it occured to you yet that the world would be so much better if everyone just minded their onw goddamned busisness?  It just pisses me off.  That was the major topic of today.  I left first hour to find that my naive cousin had some sort or tear drop looking thing on her eye.  I was liek a sad imitation of Good Charlotte, if I do say so myself.  Adam and I promptly tell her that she looks </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109346912126892717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109346912126892717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109346912126892717' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-109321739619460406</id><published>2004-08-22T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-22T16:29:56.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It has been a mighty weekend, yes, indeed. Yesterday, Jennifer and I saw Garden State, possibly the most profound piece of cinema that has graced my mind, ever. Needless to say, I loved it, it was worth many praises. Last night was the annual event that is Lisa's birthday party. There was cake, there was ice cream, there was 'Capture-The-Flag', and there was the post-'Capture-The-Flag' bitterness</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109321739619460406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109321739619460406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109321739619460406' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-109250515666329326</id><published>2004-08-14T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-08-14T10:39:16.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Well...school rebegan to uneventfullness.  The same people look the same, dress the same and are the same, but it's not like ti matters because I didn't like most of them the way that they were.  But it does offer up oppurtunity to hang out with people that you don't normally get  to.  Adam and Cleaver (?) are off spending their weekends in drunken leisure up at Indy Bash, so Jennifer and I opted</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109250515666329326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109250515666329326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109250515666329326' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-109108242163113564</id><published>2004-07-29T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-28T23:27:01.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I stole this survey from that knitwit girlfriend of that douchebag Travis kid's diary because I do so love a good survey...                                                                                                                                          [ music ]: I like vintage 70's rock, funky 80's pop and alternatvie 90's rock</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109108242163113564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109108242163113564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109108242163113564' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-109035293277473218</id><published>2004-07-20T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-20T12:48:52.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday, Cindy bought a car.  Vaughn bought alot of anger.  Things have gone from generally unpleasant around here to down right shitty.  It's truly comedy.   Yes, I was enjoying the humor that comes from someone else's anger.  Until today... I was pouring water in my mom's bathtub upstairs because it is significantly cooler than mine, and I was about to undress when I looked out the window and</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109035293277473218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109035293277473218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109035293277473218' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-109008475473923778</id><published>2004-07-17T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-17T10:19:14.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Well isn't this just nifty?  I can type in color, whoa, the technological advances that we make...  I have had a pretty strange week, as I tend to do in the safari that is my life...ok, well it's been an I Love The Ninities week, I watch that at every free moment, it is the  greatest idea mankind has had yet.  The big black out happened Tuesday, and I missed the premiere of I Love 1992 &amp; 93, so I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109008475473923778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/109008475473923778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109008475473923778' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108943043823678148</id><published>2004-07-09T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-09T20:33:58.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Made History Todayhttp://www.thesouthern.com/rednews/2004/07/09/build/top/TOP001.htmlThat "rerouted trafffic" described, yeah, that was me, Amos, Pat and Cleaver.  Fun times.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108943043823678148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108943043823678148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108943043823678148' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108870336692922719</id><published>2004-07-01T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-07-01T10:36:06.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EVERYONE Should See This MovieWhether you are a Democrat or a Republican, black or white, young or old, right wing or left wing, you need to see Fahrenheit 9/11.  I think that is especially necessary for someone that is considering a military career, you need to see what you are really signing yourself up for, well, unless you are half the population of Clinton, then maybe it's best for you to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108870336692922719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108870336692922719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108870336692922719' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108839630390311805</id><published>2004-06-27T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-27T21:18:23.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>OK...As I Was About To Say...Today I noticed myself avoiding people and conversations, even people that I know and am fond of, and I don't know why, exactly.   I was at my old house for the very last time ever today.  My mom got a little misty eyed and my dad cried like a littlw girl with a skinned knee, but I was surprisingly stoic as we videotaped the empty house and reminicsed of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108839630390311805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108839630390311805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108839630390311805' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108837749963164189</id><published>2004-06-27T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-27T16:04:59.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Casting Call: Male Actors!I am sitting here in my new office on an overturned laundry basket typing on our makeshift computer desk in our new house.  I just got back from my 2nd viewing of Jennifer as Sandy and Mike as Danny in their production of Grease, and it was wonderful, I wish our drama department had the talent of the actors in that play, I mean, we have girls but we need guys that can,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108837749963164189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108837749963164189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108837749963164189' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108829322903397302</id><published>2004-06-26T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-26T16:40:29.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It's Been Awhile...Sorry, guys, but all of the sudden life got really busy.  I had to take a week off from Papa Johns just to be able to fit in everything that I needed yo do this week.  I went to Indiana Beach with my family, that was, really shockingly, not that painful.  Here is a breif recap of the exciting moments:When asked if he would like soup or salad, my cousin Dylan replied, "Yes, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108829322903397302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108829322903397302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108829322903397302' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108769944233294878</id><published>2004-06-19T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-19T19:44:02.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>We're Bastards!Yes, the awful rumor has been confirmed, we, as a drama family, have lost our guiding father.  This, as we all know, sucks royally.  And with him goes Uncle Fat and Uncle Joe, mama Amber, baby Hannah, and even cousins-once-removed Speth and Larry.  Though it's in the works that Fat may be returning next season as my personal assistant and bodyguard, we are still at the time, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108769944233294878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108769944233294878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108769944233294878' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108744316815474243</id><published>2004-06-16T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T20:43:43.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>And Now For Today's Most Shocking Moment: Jimmy Broke Down, AGAIN!!!Just when I thought I could go a full two weeks without car trouble and being as my dad's truck is broken down we needed Jim to run but it wasn't so.  Today, on Highway 63 no less, Jimmy's gas pedal just sunk down as I was setting the Cruise Control and the engine just, stopped.  Great.  Stage one: Denial: So we (Aimee and me</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108744316815474243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108744316815474243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108744316815474243' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108735742268978550</id><published>2004-06-15T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-15T20:43:42.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Good Things Come To Those Who Wait...Alas, Today is Not the DayI found some killer Chanel earrings at an embarassingly low price on eBay, but I was out bid, it was not meant to be I suppose...oh well...Today was dull to say the least.  I finally decided on a manicurist, Dave, at Pro-Nails.  We hit it off, he is my new buddy.  I then ventured to meet the possible candidate for the love of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108735742268978550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108735742268978550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108735742268978550' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108675102737189573</id><published>2004-06-08T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T20:17:07.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sorry J.Ro I am copying you but this is fun...Regrets and Letting go...What are the first two things you do:1. When you are lied to?Uhm...it depends on who lied to me and the seriousness of the lie, If not a serious lie, I'd call them on it and laught it off.  If it was serious then I would angrily call them on it and that would probably be the last time we'd speek unless they gave me </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108675102737189573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108675102737189573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108675102737189573' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108619984371098503</id><published>2004-06-02T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T11:10:43.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Jimmy a.k.a. world's shittiest automobile has yet again broken down... I am so pissed, I hate being stuck at home!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108619984371098503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108619984371098503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108619984371098503' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108615260362933588</id><published>2004-06-01T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-06-01T22:03:23.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I made a survey, so take it biatches! HeHe!http://www.blunttruthgame.com/takesurvey.cfm?uid=383542</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108615260362933588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108615260362933588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108615260362933588' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108568229542624958</id><published>2004-05-27T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T11:24:55.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Big Mak's Guide To Being A Summer FashionistaSummer can be a fantastic time to look good while wearing less.  Usually is just turns out to be slop fest.  Here, in my opinion, is what you need to aviod wearing one mediovre outfit for three months.1. A well fitting strapless bra.  This is the MOST important thing you can add to your wardrobe. Ever.  This is very, very, very important. No woman </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108568229542624958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108568229542624958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108568229542624958' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108510968046439589</id><published>2004-05-20T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T20:21:20.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Thank god it's over for the summer...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108510968046439589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108510968046439589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108510968046439589' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108441614642237304</id><published>2004-05-12T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-12T19:42:26.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Whatever...It's Wednesday...1. What is the most annoying thing about school?What isn't?...first of all the vast majority of the people are enough to make you want to puke and die but I am not a morning (or, well, a day person) at all so it all fucks me over.2. How much control do you need over your life?If I don't have total control of all things around me, then I am not a happy camper.3.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108441614642237304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108441614642237304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108441614642237304' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108415668896250091</id><published>2004-05-09T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-09T19:38:08.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Lost My Straw...Down In DixieI had a really pretty fun Saturday night, despite the Wyatt spotting, of course. Aimee and I took on the town again this weekend...From the Bash to Coffee Grounds, then back to the Bash to the Nextel parking lot, to Taco Bell to Nextel again...and then back at Trueman's where I thought Jim bit the dust but the wheel was just locked up.  We drank so much coffee we </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108415668896250091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108415668896250091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108415668896250091' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108403618991396345</id><published>2004-05-08T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-08T10:13:05.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hey guys...I  am about to begin finals studying, already, (yay)....But I will go ahead and give y'all something to mentally chew on...If you were to make a movie (A real movie, not the Galaxy Arcade shit, sorry, Justin Plank, that was directed at Clint), but if you were going to make a movie...What would be the theme song?I would pick, "Istanbul, Not Constantinople" by They Might Be Giants, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108403618991396345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108403618991396345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108403618991396345' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108355139703327720</id><published>2004-05-02T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-02T19:33:06.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Promenade...Well, it was a good time.  No thrilling dresses, just your standard beaded, strapless, corset style dress with the huge tulle skirts in every pastel and neon color known to man, but, you'll have that, or so I suppose, I've never been to prom before, though.  I think I looked slightly out of place with my bouffant hairdo and black mini dress, but I did get alot of compliments.  I</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108355139703327720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108355139703327720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108355139703327720' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108343221269535174</id><published>2004-05-01T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-01T10:26:40.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Er'body In Da Club Gettin' TypsyI had an awful day yesterday (Thanks again. Marrs) but I had a great night.  I got a killer spray on tan, ate dinner with the women in my family (hey, good food is good food), and went to the Legacy, which had a lame turn out, but it was okay, because we owned the place, or we at least looked like we did, so nobody questioned otherwise.  I love the idea of being </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108343221269535174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108343221269535174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108343221269535174' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108320708968295769</id><published>2004-04-28T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-28T19:54:34.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>&lt;!-- START YOUTHINK.COM QUIZ RESULTS --&gt;Which Bob Dylan song are you?Don't Think TwiceClick Here to Take This QuizBrought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.&lt;!-- END YOUTHINK.COM QUIZ RESULTS --&gt;</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108320708968295769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108320708968295769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108320708968295769' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108310755502544611</id><published>2004-04-27T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-27T16:15:39.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Am Not Sure If I've Ever Cried This Much in One Day.  Ever.Why does everything all have to come totally unglued all at the same time?  I don't even know why I bother to reappy make up to myself...I just cry it right off again.  When life falls apart all at once, like a quickly ripped off band aid, I rarely cry, I just roll with the changes, like when someone dies or something as equally </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108310755502544611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108310755502544611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108310755502544611' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108294710353667020</id><published>2004-04-25T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-25T19:41:25.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>All The Bitterness You Can Fit Into Five Minutes:Today's word: Complete"Completion.  Does it exist? Will we find it?  Do you find it right before your death?  Will you then die when you are complete?  Or is it just one long unhappy race with no end in sight, until you smack into a tree and it's over?  You get a yellow ribbon, an incomplete.  You can complete an exam, but do you ever really </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108294710353667020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108294710353667020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108294710353667020' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108294630503351772</id><published>2004-04-25T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-25T19:28:07.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do Ya Ever Wonder If Everyone's Life Sucks, Or Is It Just You?I think it's everyone, except for the small percentage of people who make money.  WHy does it feel so good to make jaded summaries of life like that?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108294630503351772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108294630503351772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108294630503351772' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108278383344091658</id><published>2004-04-23T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-23T22:20:14.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Hunt For Red October (Otherwise Known As My Old Pen Pal)Robin Churnoff, I met her on a cruise ship when I was 11 years old.  She was cool.  Her favorite song was "The Hotstepper" and she loved Hanson.  We conversed until 6th grade via snail mail until we lost touch.  Now, I must find her.  It's my mission.  It's our mission.  I am enlisting you all to look for this girl, I did manage to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108278383344091658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108278383344091658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108278383344091658' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108268827286393542</id><published>2004-04-22T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-22T19:47:32.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Have You Ever Had One Of Those Dreams When You Were Scantily Clad and Wet On The Cover Of Your Local Newspaper...?Yeah, well, me neither, but it did really happen to me and it sucked.  But guess what I did...well the other day I was watching Seinfeild, and I saw a seen that I was dying to reinact.  All I needed was my oppurtunity, and today it came.  A telemarketer called, I knew it was do or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108268827286393542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108268827286393542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108268827286393542' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108260360230693492</id><published>2004-04-21T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-21T20:16:20.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Have You Ever Had One Of Those Dreams Where You Were At School Naked and Everyone Else Was Clothed...?...It happened to me.  Well, sort of, ok picture this... I was preparing to go on the mock disaster, with my (illegal) short shorts over my bikini that I was assured was A-OK by the meds bcus "no one would see me"  when the fucking fire alarm went off.  Some genius fucktard left our stage </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108260360230693492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108260360230693492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108260360230693492' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108234031043603544</id><published>2004-04-18T19:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-18T19:08:06.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Kill Bill Was So Fab I Almost Forgive The American Idol Stunt, Almost...Ok, about Kill Bill Vol. 2, well it kicked ass, I'll say that.  I absolutely loved it.  I thought that I loved the first one but the gratuitous violence was a bit on the edge of much for me.  This one was more story line, and enough gratuitous violence to sutain Adam.  I loved the twist at the end, and I felt a little dumb </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108234031043603544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108234031043603544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108234031043603544' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108222752288554085</id><published>2004-04-17T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-17T11:50:03.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Wrote The Rolling Stone:I saw God in concert on Monday, April 12th in Indianapolis, IN, and he opened his show with “My Name Is Prince.”  I just want to give props to RS 947 for not only recognizing the wonder of the Purple One’s new album, but also rewarding his live show with the well-deserved four stars.  Though I’ve seen a limited number of concerts in my 16 years of life (eight to be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108222752288554085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108222752288554085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108222752288554085' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108199758246587978</id><published>2004-04-14T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-14T19:55:53.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wednesday Whatevers-1. Would you prefer to live in an urban, suburban, or rural area; and why?  Urban!  That's what growing up in a small town makes you long for.2. If a fountain of youth did exist, would you drink from it?  Hell yeah, and you wouldn't?  I don't want my hips to spread.3. What do you want your dying words to be?  "Lou...Lou...Lou Savage is fat!"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108199758246587978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108199758246587978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108199758246587978' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108198103719162898</id><published>2004-04-14T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-14T15:20:08.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Update is Later Then a Promiscious Girl's PeriodOk, alot of things happened these last few days that were notable.  First, as you are all aware of, I've changed somethings around here.  The last blog recieved a bit too much publicity and I discovered that people that I didn't realise (nor want to) read this publication did.  So we have now gone v.i.p.  That said, let's move on shall we...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108198103719162898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108198103719162898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108198103719162898' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108155327398061274</id><published>2004-04-09T16:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-09T16:30:40.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Testing, 1,2,3...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108155327398061274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108155327398061274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108155327398061274' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108147697015835363</id><published>2004-04-08T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-09T10:55:45.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>OMG, today I was flipping through the channels and when I got to Channel 10 (the advertisement channel that our cable company runs) and if you are a Rapid Cable receiver you know they play Hi-99 (the Wabash Valley's Country Station) and before I could mute the noise pollution I heard what I will consider the audible equivalent of a carwreck (because you want to stop hearing it, but you just can't</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108147697015835363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108147697015835363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108147697015835363' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108096942305090780</id><published>2004-04-02T21:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-02T21:19:42.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>McDonald's: The White Trash Princess Isn't Quite Lovin' ItI was almost attacked and killed by a trashy looking girl in a "Cowgirl" shirt for being in a group of loudly talking McDonald's employees while she was trying to enjoy her meal at ten o'clock at night with her toddler...I hate the first of the month, the wellfare recievers are in full force!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108096942305090780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108096942305090780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108096942305090780' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108087107794998055</id><published>2004-04-01T17:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-04-01T18:00:35.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yard Sale'n AwayIt's that time of year again...the bi-yearly yard sale that Grandma Mary-Ann (my mom's mom, not to be confused with my mom's step-mom, Marrianne) holds every Labor Day and Good Friday. Due to the encarceration of myAunt Connie (the usual yard salesperson) Kels and I have been recruted to work, though our other cousin, perfect little Laci is exempt because she shouldn't have to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108087107794998055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108087107794998055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108087107794998055' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108068280510476400</id><published>2004-03-30T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-30T13:42:41.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Oh Fuck it, I Will Re-BlogMost of it was just about my hate of Isabelle the Wal Mart fabric lady and also about my recent viewing of the latest work of Kevin Smith, Jersey Girl, on this passed Sunday, my one year anniversary.It wasn't my favorite by far, but it ranked well above Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, so there you go.  It just didn't have the edge that Clerks had, but I think a good </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108068280510476400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108068280510476400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108068280510476400' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108068196850068595</id><published>2004-03-30T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-30T13:28:44.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I just blogged and it was good...Then the computer ghost ate it, and now it's all gone...:(</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108068196850068595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108068196850068595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108068196850068595' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-108040860010513863</id><published>2004-03-27T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-27T09:32:33.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Montezuma's Revenge (And I Didn't Even Go to Mexico)I spent yesterday paralized and in a great deal of disgust because I caught a nasty little flu bug that is going around.  Since Fat was no where to be found I had to use Cindy as my man servant, after she got home from work (yeah, I cleaned up my own vommit), I sent her out to PnT to get Breadstix and Purple Rain but PnT didn't have it so she </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108040860010513863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/108040860010513863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108040860010513863' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107988586266520271</id><published>2004-03-21T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-21T08:20:09.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Spring Break To Spring Break (All the Difference That A Year Can Make)March 28th is approaching, one week from today and for all of you that don't know, which is most of you, that makes one year since me and my little Bam Bam decided to make it official.  Some things are the same since then, we still fight over who gets what space of a single pillow rather then getting up and getting a new one.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107988586266520271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107988586266520271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107988586266520271' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107981463005161556</id><published>2004-03-20T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-20T12:32:56.153-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Friday 5 (Brought to u on Saturday bcus Until J.Ro Posted It I Forgot It Existed)If you...1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?I would buy the Taco Casita, clean it thoroughly, hire new workers and ge the party started. 2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?Records, tons and rons of records.  Oh, and re-created vintage clothing, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107981463005161556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107981463005161556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107981463005161556' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107947411146791748</id><published>2004-03-16T13:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-16T13:57:34.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Never Was There a Story of More Woe Than the End of Juliet and her RomeoYeah, it's over.  And I'll miss it.  It's hard to say goodbye to some of the best and worst times of the year.  But we looked great, we acted great and we felt great in the end.  Here of some of the highlights:Friday: Sarah Sue's seed awardsSara, Me and a karaoke machine...need I say more?on a personal note: I recieved </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107947411146791748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107947411146791748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107947411146791748' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107885097061642133</id><published>2004-03-09T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T08:54:59.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Don't Mess With Texas (Becasue If You Do They Will Throw Cranberry Juice At You)If you go to SVHS, and you don't know the opossum, you must be living under a Texas sized rock.  Just look for the redbow, that's her.  Wll, for some reason, her new target has become Lisa Nepote, little, sweet innocent, wouldn't- say-shit-if-she-had-her-mouth-full-of-it Lisa, who has indeed been my best firend </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107885097061642133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107885097061642133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107885097061642133' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107833863223994107</id><published>2004-03-03T10:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-03T10:35:51.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yeah, You My Tater, Yeah, You My Sweetie Tater PieOk, I am really friggn bored! It's been so long since I have had time to even be bored recently, it always seems that with school and work and play and Adam and prom and the random surprises of life I have no time to do my own library let alone be bored.  I did claim some alone time to myself to watch borrowed tapes of the HBO documentaries SoCo</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107833863223994107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107833863223994107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107833863223994107' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107766932214854037</id><published>2004-02-24T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-24T16:37:23.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Night of the Living TransI fulfilled one of my dreams this passed Saturday night, I saw Rocky Horror Picture Show in the theater at a midnight showing full of fellow fans and transexuals alike.  Of course my lame ass "friends" all had better things to do but I did talk Adam into going with me and we ran into a rather large Clinton crowd of homies to time warp with.  It was all that I envisioned</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107766932214854037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107766932214854037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107766932214854037' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107678211407601745</id><published>2004-02-14T10:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-14T10:10:25.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What He's Done For MeBy Jewel KiltcherFor so long I've been lonelyDrowning in my tears,No one there to listenOr help me face my deepest fears.No one there to shelter meFrom this world so full of pain,No one showed me rainbowsEvery time I saw the rain.No one there to give a damnAbout my broken heart,No one to pick up the piecesEvery time I fell apart.But, finally someone came along</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107678211407601745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107678211407601745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107678211407601745' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107654895974666829</id><published>2004-02-11T17:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-11T17:24:28.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me, My Dad, and Larry Stone All Standing and Listening to "Bette Davis Eyes" by Kim CarnesI know you are all going "What the fuck???" right now but let me just clear up that yes, this very situation did occur to me today.  I know you are thinking...how the fuck did this come about... well sit back, relax, and listen to the tale I will tell.  Ok, so Sara drops me off at my house after play </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107654895974666829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107654895974666829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107654895974666829' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107643704223381138</id><published>2004-02-10T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-02-10T10:19:09.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If These bladder Infections Could TalkThis is a passage I wrote late last night when I couldn't sleep to re-record in my blog today.The feeling right now is stressed, as if I weren't a total wreck already it feel like every minute that I am conscious it seems as though another burden has been added to my load.  It feels like I am drowning in my life, as alt-Goth rock and cheesy as it sounds, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107643704223381138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107643704223381138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107643704223381138' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107602836539133147</id><published>2004-02-05T16:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T08:42:25.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'> Bank Trips, Yoga, Sexual Harassment and the Other Wonders of Play PracticeAs you probably can guess, for every talented, dedicated and well hygiened member of the theater department there is a freak.  For some reason they just feel that there is a stigma linking them to us even though they are not accepted (or given roles and purposes for that matter) they still hang around like a bad cough </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107602836539133147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107602836539133147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107602836539133147' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107543071760634517</id><published>2004-01-29T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-29T18:46:52.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sky Rockets In Flight...Afternoon DelightsJill and I were being totally insubordinate in Algebra 2 and we were discussing the previous night's American Idol ("She bangs, She bangs!") and old tv shows (the Patrick Duffy/Susanne Somers classic Step by Step) and we somehow recalled the old 70's am radio classic by the Starland Vocal Band, "Afternoon Delights"... now kids, if you get a chance to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107543071760634517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107543071760634517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107543071760634517' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107534742097513204</id><published>2004-01-28T19:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T19:39:43.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Neurotic Since 1987Can I just talk about how much of a freaky child that I was?  Well, Adam and I were discussing our shared love of 90's rock, when the Soul Assylum anti-runaway anthem "Runaway Train" was mentioned.  Yeah you remember it, most of u probably even liked it as kids,  but not me.  Well it was ok until I saw the video.  Scarred for life.  The images of children and teens being </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107534742097513204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107534742097513204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107534742097513204' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107496356362724944</id><published>2004-01-24T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-24T09:06:31.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Kevin Smith...Your Taste Is In Your MouthI did the unthinkable with my very first Firday off since joining the Papa John's team.  I went to P&amp;T Video, rented Gigli on VHS (the two dvds they had of it were rented allready), took it to Jennifer's, and watched it.  And I survived, though barely.  I have seen eight year olds in christmas programs have better chemestry then Bennifer.  No wonder why </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107496356362724944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107496356362724944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107496356362724944' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107444420112597458</id><published>2004-01-18T08:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-18T08:44:44.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sometimes You Have To Sacrafice Your Happiness...Well, so long girlhood. I am so sick of pretending to live in the little world of people that are handed all that they need or want.  I don't live in that world anymore.  I need a car.  I need one... I can't bum rides anymore and I don't want anyone's help anymore. So I am not doing Romeo and Juliet though I want to so very badly.  I have to give</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107444420112597458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107444420112597458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107444420112597458' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107413155344024104</id><published>2004-01-14T17:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-14T17:53:53.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm So Excited...And I Just Can't Hide It!See what will be my fab prom dress:http://www.jovaniprom.com/detail.php?col=prom&amp;seq=0</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107413155344024104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107413155344024104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107413155344024104' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107403958559575313</id><published>2004-01-13T16:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-14T17:44:51.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My White Supremacist Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The YardI stumbled on the most amusing little racial argument on, of all places, a message board about the Milkshake song.  I made a rather amusing comment about the antagonist of all this, who we will call Tobey Keith jr., on my Leo's Lyric's name which is Mackie D.Check it:http://www.leoslyrics.com/listlyrics.php?hid=g6chIs0hLDU%3D&amp;#</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107403958559575313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107403958559575313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107403958559575313' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107396163156077849</id><published>2004-01-12T18:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-12T18:41:49.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Feliz Cumpleanos Cindy! 40 Years Young!Today is my mother's birthday...and you'd think that buying her three hideous shirts on clearance at that store she loves and then hiding the tags and giving her a gift receipt so she would think I paid full price for them was enough (hey, at least I didn't wrpa up stuff she allready had and pretended like it was new again, yes I did it and no she didn't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107396163156077849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107396163156077849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107396163156077849' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107342936903519220</id><published>2004-01-06T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-06T15:03:42.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Saddest Thing About Growing Up is Learning That In Life, More People Would Sell You Out Then Buy You Life.A lot of times people make judgments from the outside of a situation based on what a situation looks like, I admit it, I do it. It's human nature, it pisses you off sometimes, but it's forgivable because A. Their assumption was probably the honest truth of what it did look like from the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107342936903519220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107342936903519220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107342936903519220' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107307489349769691</id><published>2004-01-02T12:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-01-02T12:28:46.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Happy Festivus for the Rest of Us!I hope you enjoyed your holiday season... as proof that I did, visit the homepage representing our group's Christmas party full of band geek gifts, finger foods, oppossom jokes and every other hijink you see at normal high society cocktillions.http://hometown.aol.com/pennylane1087/index.html</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107307489349769691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107307489349769691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107307489349769691' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107283308806033126</id><published>2003-12-30T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-30T17:12:33.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Every night in my dreamsI see you, I feel you,That is how I know you go onFar across the distanceAnd spaces between usYou have come to show you go on Near, far, wherever you areI believe that the heart does go onOnce more you open the doorAnd you're here in my heartAnd my heart will go on and onLove can touch us one timeAnd last for a lifetimeAnd never let go till we're gone </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107283308806033126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107283308806033126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107283308806033126' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107276264600949754</id><published>2003-12-29T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-30T11:33:26.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>On the Road Again, I Just Can't Wait To Get On the Road AgainEveryone knows the old joke; "How many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb?"  My mom always kids me about that one because the first time I ever changed a light bulb, or boiled water, or been an independent woman in any way I always called Aimee, my best friend of 13 years to help me through the right of passage.  We crossed</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107276264600949754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107276264600949754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107276264600949754' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107162654997184599</id><published>2003-12-16T18:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-16T18:03:21.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It's been a long December, but there's reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last...I truly hope that it is, as well.  Maybe I just came of age, but it seems that this year everyone in my world came to learn a big something about life and who that they really are.  I think that happens every year, but I was just always too much of a girl to notice it.  That in it's self</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107162654997184599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107162654997184599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107162654997184599' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107160536540212638</id><published>2003-12-16T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-16T12:10:17.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Finals SUCK!!!I am in computer keyboarding but I am far too stressed to work...If you haven't heard some crack fiend bastard stole my diario and my espanol book for drugs on the black market.  I am so fucking pissed off...I have searched everywhere...no leads.  I am conducting this investigation on my own because  the spanish teacher doesn't seem to give too much of a shit. Plus it's finals </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107160536540212638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107160536540212638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107160536540212638' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107153863590397310</id><published>2003-12-15T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-15T17:38:06.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Another Faboo Internet Fill-In the BlankDear Santa,I have been a good girl.It really wasn't my fault what happened at Aimee's Christmas party. It was Jennifer who spiked the punch with too much Tab. I can't help it if I drank 27 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like fart.I thought it was funny when I put Stewart's Member's Only Jacket on my head and danced the mamba on </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107153863590397310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107153863590397310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107153863590397310' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107133492017330415</id><published>2003-12-13T09:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-13T09:02:48.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Walking Through The Park and Reminiscing....We're taking you back to the golden age of eighth grade, when, it happened on night that Amos and I stumbled upon a site that allowed you to make your own boy band by typing in a few random words taht they placed into a pop song for you.  Sometimes it just makes no sense, but others, others are pure comic genius.Here are the four highlights:"It's </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107133492017330415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107133492017330415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107133492017330415' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107110850203882889</id><published>2003-12-10T18:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-10T18:09:08.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Really Really Really F-ing Hate You....An Ode to the BachusThere is someone that I really hate, and I call him the bachus because his name is to foul to type or say.  I saw him in the parking lot of the mall today, we passed him and he said hi to Adam.  Adam had to hold me back because I wanted to go up to him, kick him, and then run away, for I really want to cause him physical pain.  I saw </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107110850203882889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107110850203882889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107110850203882889' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107099358511778480</id><published>2003-12-09T10:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-09T15:43:08.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Go Sarah!  Fight the Power!I would just like to say props to Sarah for her latest entry (see my link Sarah's Blog) for saying that just because we have chatterboxes on these blogs for our own purposes and the purposes of our friends and NOT for the purpose of you people that tear apart the things that we say and do to make yourselves feel more impoortant.  If you want to get your opinions out </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107099358511778480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107099358511778480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107099358511778480' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107050437698250847</id><published>2003-12-03T18:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-12-03T18:20:15.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Today I:1. Got Bangs2. Got my first detention (Thanks, Scildo)3. Drove an El Camino</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107050437698250847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107050437698250847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107050437698250847' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-107024550884940167</id><published>2003-11-30T18:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-30T18:25:44.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Furthering the idea of the angry chatter boxers that i have no life, I have just spent nearrly ten minutes creating the definitive best away message in the history of instant messaging... an ode to my favorite deported illegal immigrant.  (Thank you David Bowie for writing such a touching song)Auto response from NaUgHtYsOcK: I'm a mess without my little China GirlWake up morning, where's my </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107024550884940167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/107024550884940167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#107024550884940167' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106995029689394087</id><published>2003-11-27T08:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-27T08:25:29.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What's funner then a barrel of monkeys?  THE FLU!!!Sorry, I've been weak on the posting, I have had a busy routine of laying around, puking, pooping, and then repeating.  Yes, it's that time again folks, flu season!  It's hit me hard, too.  Last night I thought that I was better, then I got sent home from work for vomiting in front of a customer...poor guy, I bet he wasn't in the pizza mood </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106995029689394087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106995029689394087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106995029689394087' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106963949844729199</id><published>2003-11-23T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-23T18:05:27.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>     </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106963949844729199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106963949844729199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106963949844729199' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106963662126558037</id><published>2003-11-23T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-23T17:17:30.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Go, Go Aimee, It's ur Birthday...And We're Gonna Party Like It's Your BirthdayYesterday was Aimee's 16th, and a celebration was held in her honor, complete with a tiara and boa, in true diva style.  And Sarah's bf (and posse) trashed our cars (that's ok, payback is a biaaaatch, right guys?)  Luckily, Jimmy was parked around back and was safe from the wreckage because I had to work and got there</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106963662126558037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106963662126558037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106963662126558037' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106929344712837971</id><published>2003-11-19T17:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-19T17:57:51.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I scored60½%on the classic 400 Point Purity Test!Take the test here!I scored 60 on my purity test...I thought ht I was less pure then that by now...but I guess it's cus I don't do drugs. Adam got 100% pure...but that might be bcus he quit after the first ten questions.  Take it and share your thoughts.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106929344712837971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106929344712837971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106929344712837971' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106903623615571629</id><published>2003-11-16T18:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-16T18:39:29.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Wasn't A Poet, and Didn't Know ItWhile boxing up the crap in my room today for the impending move, I found something interesting.  My diary from 6th grade, when I was 11 or 12.  It is hilarious, you see, like everyone at that age, I thought that I had mucho mas life expierience then I really did, and I wrote poetry about it. I have never enjoyed my own stupidity this much, ever.  I think </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106903623615571629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106903623615571629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106903623615571629' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106892307029156308</id><published>2003-11-15T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-15T11:04:51.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Game of QuestionsI figured I'd better blog while I still had the wave of publicity.  I was just lost in thought about questions.  Just how the people you are the closest too have the most mystery about them.  Well they aren't nessisarily more mysterious but you care more about them, so you wonder about it more.  There is a million things that I would love to ask my best friend, my boyfriend</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106892307029156308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106892307029156308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106892307029156308' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106823389833645986</id><published>2003-11-07T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-07T11:38:16.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Analysis of Seinfeild:The Master of Its Domain 	The year was 1990, ok, maybe 1991.  Or was it 1993?  Well, it was the early nineties, and we, as Americans, just lived through the 1980’s, and time of exuberant excess and men wearing make-up.  We learned, that yes, it’s safe to dance, but we also lived in a fantasy world looking through or neon-tinted sunglasses (yes, at night, you evil eighties</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106823389833645986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106823389833645986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106823389833645986' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106813484610928386</id><published>2003-11-06T08:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-12T18:58:50.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>hey everyone...sick of hearing about it...so it's gone...sorry to dissapoint.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106813484610928386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106813484610928386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106813484610928386' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106808354684173536</id><published>2003-11-05T17:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-11-05T17:52:24.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>murakami=loveIf anyone wants to see "the plan" for the new room, e-mail me at punkybrew27@yahoo.com and I will email you the pics.Guess what I am getting for X-mas/my beLATEd birthday???  A real Louis (or at least I'd better)!!! A cheap one on ebay of course, but a Louis nevertheless!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106808354684173536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106808354684173536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106808354684173536' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106739184340698564</id><published>2003-10-28T17:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-28T17:44:02.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You make me come You make me complete You make me completely miserable Do you ever look at your life and think about how miseable you are?  I am doing that right now.  I feel like it's a continious rut that I can only pull myself halfway out of, then I fall back either to where I started from, or lower then before.  I can see the top but I can never reach it, or worse, I touch a little of it </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106739184340698564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106739184340698564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106739184340698564' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106722052925158178</id><published>2003-10-26T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2003-10-26T18:08:48.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>All The World Is A Stage (If You Let It Be)Play weekend is officially over.  Thank You to everyone that showed up to see it, you got a damn good show.  And for those lame asses that didn't, it was your loss.  Today's was definatly the best.  The best scenes involved a stale biscuit, an inside joke involing Ted Danson, and my personal favorite(though not John's); HOT BLOODED!!!  (Sorry John, it </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106722052925158178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106722052925158178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106722052925158178' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106670424091153548</id><published>2003-10-20T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-20T19:44:00.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Superstud1610267: and thats one of the many reasons i love you aww my baby!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106670424091153548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106670424091153548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106670424091153548' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106670251911786236</id><published>2003-10-20T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-20T19:15:45.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>P.M.S. and the Modern Man ( A Plea to Legalize Stun-guns)Do they just not get it or what?  Sometimes it is just best not to mess with you.  One of those weeks our of the months are the few days before and the first days of your period.  I mean, I am impatient as it is, but there are times (such as tonight) when Adam gets me to the point of either screaming bloody murder in tears (if no one is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106670251911786236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106670251911786236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106670251911786236' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106609044529675586</id><published>2003-10-13T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-13T17:14:05.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Children with mohawks...women with bug antennas...yard sales galore...hippie woman and middle eastern men and more wiener dogs then your local pet store...the scene of the Covered Bridge festival...Rural Indiana is more of a freak fest then you think, or at least at Covered Bridge Festival time...Adam, my mom and me took the day off and headed up to Rockville to take in the sites and sounds of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106609044529675586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106609044529675586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106609044529675586' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106600940309740814</id><published>2003-10-12T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-12T18:43:22.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Weekend Update (ok... so I am not exactly Kevin Nealon...but its better then Jimmy Fallon these days...)My weekend began with a football game...it is October, and last weekend I barely escaped with my nipples...so u know I figure it will be kinda cold...I wear my standard two pairs of pants, my Tripple Five Soul sweatshirt witha hoodie over it...omg I have never sweated so much in my life...I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106600940309740814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106600940309740814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106600940309740814' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106584213511427871</id><published>2003-10-10T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T20:15:35.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>See, my days are cold without you But I'm hurtin' while I'm with you And though my heart can't take no more I keep on running back to you See, my days are cold without you But I'm hurtin' while I'm with you And though my heart can't take no more I keep on running back to you Baby, I don't know why you treat me so bad You says you love me, no one above me And I was all you had And </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106584213511427871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106584213511427871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106584213511427871' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106454386545888670</id><published>2003-09-25T19:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-25T19:37:45.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Building Your Character (Free Your Inner-Thespian)John (play director)  has been giving us speeches daily for a week now about building our characters in the play I am in.  The character of the role that we are playing.  Maybe it is just the thespian in me, but I think that we are all playing roles, the entire world is a stage and the entire earth is our set ot do what we may with.  So, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106454386545888670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106454386545888670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106454386545888670' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106433958997332446</id><published>2003-09-23T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-23T10:53:09.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>wtf???  They changed the format on me!!! It's all important and business likw...I don't like this...skipping studay hall in the library...notjhing better to do...I guess I could study for Spanish but no....not doing that, tho maybe I should. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106433958997332446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106433958997332446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106433958997332446' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106408772960975821</id><published>2003-09-20T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-20T12:55:29.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hey guys...I have had quite a stressful week...grades, they are always fun.  I would also like to say happy birthday as of eight o'clock yesterday to my baby ( I love you very much!!!!There are a crap of alot of September birthdays, mine, for instance. Mandy's is two days later then mine (and her party is tonight).  That should prove to be good times.  Well blogging for today is complete!</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106408772960975821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106408772960975821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106408772960975821' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106390866243651903</id><published>2003-09-18T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-18T11:12:12.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Greetings From Homoland (Pop. 1)I am a lameass slacker...I admit it...I am also grounded...maybe that has something to do with it...I dunno....the point is...I quit blogging some time ago.   Now, as I sit here in refusal to break down and talk to Adam (he is sitting beside me in homoland, population 1)  The goodamn space bar on this fucking computer sucks!!!!  That said...I am concluding this </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106390866243651903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106390866243651903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106390866243651903' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106324895310092591</id><published>2003-09-10T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-10T19:55:53.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I know this is a weak ass post but I love this song...She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes, She can ruin your faith with her casual lies, And she only reveals what she wants you to see. She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me. She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you, She can ask for the truth but she'll never believe you,    (me!!!)And </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106324895310092591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106324895310092591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106324895310092591' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106263378165347394</id><published>2003-09-03T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T17:03:01.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Baby, even the losers get lucky sometimes Even the losers keep a little bit of pride Yeah, they get lucky sometimes I don't know why I wanted to start out with that but I was listening to it and it fit.  God, where do I begin?  Things got crazy this week, I mean crazy.  Festival weekend, I mean things are never calm but this was one of the worst and best weeks of my life.  I think the best </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106263378165347394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106263378165347394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106263378165347394' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106167123743441979</id><published>2003-08-23T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-23T13:40:37.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>little ditty...'bout Jack and Diane...In about a week or two...it will be my birthday...I will be 16.  Doesn't that seem kinda insane...like last week it was fourth grade...but then again in a way it seems like I've allready lived far beyond 16 years.  Ok, that was the deep philosophcial portion of this...moving on to the more important issues...like PRESANTS!!!Of course, at 16, the most </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106167123743441979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106167123743441979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106167123743441979' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106142059468028303</id><published>2003-08-20T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-20T16:03:14.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Ups, Downs, Rights, and Lefts of Mixed Vegetables	Mixed vegetables are little bits of veggies bobbing around in an awful flavored liquid of some sort.  They are popular with cooks and Elementary schools nation wide, but very un-popular with the students at those schools and, well, pretty much anyone else.  They are characterized by their shades of golden yellow, puce green and burnt orange </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106142059468028303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106142059468028303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106142059468028303' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106090304178219871</id><published>2003-08-14T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-14T16:21:51.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I have been being really horrible lately...I talk badly about the persin that I love more then anything in the owrld and I shouldn't do that.  He is everything to me and I am sorry, I want everyone to know that I really do love him :)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106090304178219871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106090304178219871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106090304178219871' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106081883722804878</id><published>2003-08-13T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T16:58:39.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>OK, this is a question for the ladies...wouldn't u be the slightest bit angry if you or someone you knew found another girl's underwear in your boyfriend's car?  My thoughts exactly.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106081883722804878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106081883722804878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106081883722804878' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106081242818035230</id><published>2003-08-13T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T15:11:51.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ok Scildo's zoology notes are not up yet so I am blogging the time away...I hate school and it is only the second day...it is better then last year tho I suppose.  I have good ppl in my classes and I don't think that I would have such anomosity for school yet if I didn't have to deal with play practice every friggn night until like 10 o'clock.  My teachers are not nearly as foul as last years, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106081242818035230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106081242818035230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106081242818035230' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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-5596195.post-106081147630613229</id><published>2003-08-13T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T14:55:59.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My poem for English Class...MakenziAssertive, Eccentric, Eclectic, TrendyLover of the 1980’s, shopping and my friends.Who feels optimistic, irritated and opinionated.Who needs attention, Ice Mountain Bottled Water, and blush.Who gives re-designed articles of clothing, loose change and notebook paper.Who fears small spaces, ledges and WORMS !!!Who would like to see old movies, Marilyn </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106081147630613229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5596195/posts/default/106081147630613229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://martinitime.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106081147630613229' title=''/><author><name>Big Mak</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06969022280462824163</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>
