<?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-5516684137028602413</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:33:02.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adam's blog</title><subtitle type='html'>This is my mind.  Racing, Pacing, Restless and Bored.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-5692624009855339705</id><published>2011-03-28T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T22:41:19.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Comedian</title><content type='html'>Did I ever tell you this? When I was little I wanted to be a comedian when I grew up. Seriously.&amp;nbsp; It's kinda weird how these things come back to you.&amp;nbsp; My mom is a school teacher, and recently she called me up asking if i remember my elementary school guidance counselor.&amp;nbsp; "Of course not" I say.&amp;nbsp; Well she remembers me.&amp;nbsp; She went looking for my mom, just to tell her she remembers me saying that I wanted to be a comedian.&amp;nbsp; She had never seen a 7 year old so adamant about his career choice.&amp;nbsp; Especially a profession so off the wall as a comedian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah, that's what i wanted to do.&amp;nbsp; I thought it would be amazing to be able to make people laugh.&amp;nbsp; Getting up on stage with that one lone spotlight shinning on you.&amp;nbsp; You can't see the faces off the people out in the audience, just shadows and outlines of people sitting around tables drinking.&amp;nbsp; But you'd get a sense that they are all focused on you, waiting for the next punch line to drop.&amp;nbsp; And when that punch line hit, explosions of laughter and hand claps showing their appreciation for you making their night a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there I was, 7 years old with a speech impediment, cowlicks sending my hair in every direction, practicing my impressions.&amp;nbsp; I remember trying out Elmer Fudd impersonations.&amp;nbsp; It made sense because we both couldn't say our "r's" That was pretty much the extent of my repertoire. I mean, how many other characters with a speech impediment will a seven year old know? I guess I could have done Scooby Doo maybe.&amp;nbsp; But that's about it. And to a seven year old, that what comedy meant.&amp;nbsp; You do 10 minutes of impersonations, and then a red curtain fall behind you, you throw on a blazer and you finish out your set with some observational comedy Jerry Seinfeld style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had this recurring dream when I was little.&amp;nbsp; I would be doing standup routines in the Muppet Theater, and out in the Audience were all of my favorite characters from my favorite TV shows. Kermit and Fozzie are in the front row, the Ninja Turtles are in the next row, Bugs and Daffy are a few rows back.&amp;nbsp; He-Man and Optimus Prime are in the back. And I was just killing this set. Every punch line was met with riotous laughter.&amp;nbsp; Michelangelo was on the floor, rolling and pounding his fist on the ground.&amp;nbsp; Statler and Waldorf are up in their box, tears streaming from their puppet eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A seven year old, performing observational comedy in front of cartoon characters from the 80s. I wish I can remember some of my old jokes.&amp;nbsp; I imagine i had a whole set dedicated to Bugs Bunny.&amp;nbsp; "And what is the deal with Bugs? I mean, he runs around looking for an excuse to dress up in drag. Practically every time I see him, he's in a wig and a skirt. &amp;nbsp; And have you ever seen him kiss any girl bunnies? Not that i can remember, But I've seen him kiss Elmer Fudd in like every other cartoon.&amp;nbsp; A big fat wet sloppy kiss right on the lips.&amp;nbsp; I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with Bugs's lifestyle, what I'm saying is he's not fooling anyone. Everyone is ready to except you and love you for who you are, its time to come out of the rabbit hole."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-5692624009855339705?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/5692624009855339705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=5692624009855339705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/5692624009855339705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/5692624009855339705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2011/03/comedian.html' title='Comedian'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-920186181554862914</id><published>2008-03-03T18:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T10:20:42.961-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ohio weather</title><content type='html'>Do you know what today was?  it was the first truly nice day of the year.  it was just about the most perfect weather.  it was sunny, warm enough that i could wear flip flops, and roll up my sleeves on my shirt, and with the nice breeze, all i needed was my trusty hooded sweatshirt and i was in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now normally i really don't like the unpredictability of ohio's weather, but today i realized, that the first day of truly nice spring-like weather feels so good, it almost makes the last 4 months of shit weather worth it.  almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;unfortunately, the first warm day has it's downsides.  namely, it doesn't last.  i woke up at 1:30 this afternoon, and as i write this 8 hours later, it's dumping down rain, and a cold snap is coming.  When i wake up tomorrow morning, it's going to have a windchill of 32, and by noon it'll feel like it's 20 degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's true what they say; all good things come to an end, normally within 24 hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-920186181554862914?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/920186181554862914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=920186181554862914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/920186181554862914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/920186181554862914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/03/ohio-weather.html' title='ohio weather'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4995729872504934053</id><published>2008-02-28T02:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T03:09:17.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'>B'Rock</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R8aP4Z1PAuI/AAAAAAAAAAo/dzQP4kbukAc/s1600-h/IMG_1265.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R8aP4Z1PAuI/AAAAAAAAAAo/dzQP4kbukAc/s320/IMG_1265.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171979421251207906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So Barack Obama showed up on campus today for a rally.  I figured it was a good chance to get to see the guy i voted for.  So I got up at 6am so i could do my laundry before i had to leave for the rally which started at 10:30, doors open at 830am.  I figured i had better show up about when the doors were opening cause there would be so many people there.  He Gave a Nice Speech, and i'm not regretting that i voted for him, but i did notice some things that kind of put me off of the whole ordeal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, Obama was late.  Sure i know he was in cleveland for the debate the other night, and they got bad weather, but still, it doesn't really give a good first impression. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;second, I got stuck in the nosebleeds.  Because of all the cameras that was going to be there, they decided it would be best to fill up all the seats that the camera would see first, and then fill up the rest of the seats after.  To make sure all the "important" sections got filled, they decided to go fill them from the top down.  So If were 15-20 minutes earlier, i would have gotten pretty sweet seats, if were 20-30 minutes later, i would have gotten pretty seat seats.  But no, i got about the worst seats in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third, signs for the rally were prohibited.  But wait, when i watched the clips from the rally on CNN, every other person i saw had a sign, what is up with that? well, the obama campaign committee had specially approved organizations make approved hand-made signs that you see on TV.  They handed out the signs before Obama showed up, which gave the whole thing a feeling of being staged, and fake, and overly produced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly was his speech, yea sure it was a nice speech, but i wondered how many times he had given it before.  He really didn't say anything i haven't heard from him before.  About the only thing i thought was different was the shout outs he gave before he started the speech.  He Got Eddie George to show up, so he had to mention something about buckeyes and heissman winners and whatever.  I thought that was kinda cheesy and a poor way to make yourself appealing to the people of columbus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whatever, it'll probably be the last time i got to a political rally.  I didn't even score any cool swag.  I just didn't like the feeling that it was all staged.  ionno&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4995729872504934053?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4995729872504934053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4995729872504934053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4995729872504934053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4995729872504934053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/brock.html' title='B&apos;Rock'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R8aP4Z1PAuI/AAAAAAAAAAo/dzQP4kbukAc/s72-c/IMG_1265.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4694897131106672737</id><published>2008-02-25T00:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T01:01:34.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'>more movies</title><content type='html'>So i saw the flick Be Kind Rewind today, and then i watched the oscars, so all in all, it's been a pretty good day for movies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta say I really Liked Be Kind Rewind.  I mean I reeeeeaally liked it.  It was kinda funny, it was cute, it was charming, it was endearing.  It tugged on my heart strings a little bit.  The film is about two guys (Jack Black and Mos Def), who when all of their video tapes get erased from their rental store, decide to remake all the movies in hopes to keep their business open.  what makes the movie sooo good is that these guys really care about movies.  They understand the power of a movie (it's cliche, i know), and the importance of their community.    It's their love for the movies that they are recreating that separates this movie from other films that parody other movies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not to say that the movie doesn't have it's flaws, It seemed kinda rough as a whole, my compatriots thought it was cheesy (i didn't), There were times when it felt like there were scenes cut out that held pieces of information that would help us get jokes, or make the plot move more smoothly, and etc.   So i'm thinking about what it was about the movie that allowed it to overcome all these flaws, and i knew that it was the films message about movies that really resonated with me, but i couldn't find the right words that would properly convey the message with out sounding overly cliche.  luckily Jack Nicholson did it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching the oscars and Jackie-Boy came out and gave a speech about why he loved movies right before they showed a clipshow featuring all the best picture winners of the last 80 years.  In his speech he said that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"despite all of our differences, movies touch the humanity in all of us."  &lt;/span&gt;and i like that.  Movies allow us to escape, they can give us hope, they can help us build a sense of community, they give us something in common.  Movies can move us in profound ways, and what i liked best about Be Kind Rewind, is that it understood that, and it paid tribute to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go see it.   Gimme a call, and i'll come along...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4694897131106672737?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4694897131106672737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4694897131106672737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4694897131106672737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4694897131106672737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/more-movies.html' title='more movies'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7639128848029792066</id><published>2008-02-21T02:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T03:12:03.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Drink Your Milkshake!!!</title><content type='html'>Wha!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i saw the movie There Will Be Blood last weekend, and i gotta say, it was kinda weird.  it's 2 hours and 40 minutes of Daniel Day Louis speaking crazy talk.  He starts of kinda ok, maybe he's just eccentric, but by the end of the movie he is in full blown crazy mode.  He's running around a bowling alley yelling about how he's going to drink Paul Dano's milkshake.  Paul Dano doesn't even have a milkshake.  ionno.  As a film, a piece of art that has cultural and aesthetic value, then There Will Be Blood is pretty good.  But as a Movie?  an entertaining piece of escapism, then maybe not so much.  and I am of the opinion, that the best pieces of cinema do both.  and if i have to choose between the two, i'd go with the entertaining lowbrow movie almost every time.  While i can appreciate the acting, the cinematography and the fine directing, i don't think i'll ever need to see the movie ever again.  I'm glad i saw it once, but i'm not going to rush out and buy the DVD, and i can't say i can in good conscious recommend this movie to most of my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what movie would i recommend?   One of my favorite movies that came out last year was "Gone Baby Gone."  But Nobody Saw It!!!  It's one of those movies you wanna watch and discuss, but if nobody saw it, i don't want to give the ending away.  It was beautifully constructed.  It got the shaft on the oscar noms.  Only one? C'mon academy.  Micheal Clayton was good but it wasn't 7 nominations good.   Casey Affleck gave another great performance in this movie, i expect to see great things out of him in the future.  And his big brother Ben as the director?  He was really good.  He wasn't overstated or flashy, but he was way better then anyone would have expected, and at times that were indicative that he could have a very good career as a director, and certainly have his next movie proudly proclaim "A Film By Ben Affleck."  The film does a terrific job of blending what is wrong and right, and you spend the whole of the movie swimming in a sea of grey and moral ambiguity.  It  doesn't pick a side, but rather lets the viewer decide for himself what he thinks is right and wrong.  We see the choices that the characters make, and we understand the reasons for those choices, and we are left trying to figure out what our own choices would be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go out and rent Gone Baby Gone, and tell me what you think.  And if you're thinking about going out to see There Will Be Blood, think twice, and make sure you really want to see it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7639128848029792066?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7639128848029792066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7639128848029792066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7639128848029792066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7639128848029792066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/ill-drink-your-milkshake.html' title='I&apos;ll Drink Your Milkshake!!!'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-1964443742042790011</id><published>2008-02-15T17:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T18:49:52.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Madonna</title><content type='html'>There are very few artists that are as controversial as Madonna.  She's been hanging around since the early 80s and she is turning the big 5-0 later this year.  She has reinvented herself more times then anyone has a right too, but no matter what your thoughts on her very long and very successful career, no one can deny her impact on popular culture.  An impact that still is very apparent even to this day, as i found out today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started this morning at about 5am.  I'm working the front desk, and i'm a little bored, so what do i do? i pop onto youtube, and start watching music videos.  I'm all over the place, but i really like listening to stuff that people never expect.  So i pull up one of my favorite videos from the 80s.  "Like A Prayer" by Madonna.  It has every thing, a really catchy bubblegum beat and black jesus in the music video.  I'm singing and dancing along, and Abbie Z. (the girl i'm working with) and i start talking about Madonna.  we're watching her videos, talking about what are our favorite songs, and how HOT she looks for a 50 year old.  Abbie says she really likes about every song madonna has ever done, except for "Like A Virgin."  But especially the stuff around the late 90s, you know, "Ray of Light" and "Don't Tell Me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight,  my buddy Sarah and Akira and I went out to BD's Mongolian barbeque for dinner, and afterwards we stopped into the BuyBacks store next door.  We are perusing the used CDs and since i had Madonna on the brain, I decided to look her up and see what the store had.  Well they had about everything, apparently people like to sell their Madonna Cds....Can we say guilty pleasure?  No one wants to admit they have Madonna ripped on to their computer so they sell the evidence...  I'm excited cause they have the Immaculate collection for 5 bucks.  I'm so excited i show Akira what i found.  He rolls his eyes "No.  Don't even talk to me about Madonna....I don't even know you who you are."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I step up to the counter to make my purchase, and i'm really excited, i'm grinning from ear to ear and humming "Lucky Star."  The guy at the counter looks at the CD, then at me, then back at the CD, starts shaking his head and lets out a sigh.  "You know," he says "this is my least favorite CD in the whole store.  I mean, what right does she have to use the word Immaculate?  it's offensive."  I tell him, "C'mon, it's Madonna...It's EARLY Madonna, everybody likes early Madonna."  He says "the music may be ok, but that word, she has no right to use that word."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, Whatever, I got my CD and I'm Happy, "Hey Sarah! Can we listen to Madonna on the way home?!?!? Can we Can we Can we?"  Now Sarah's smiling, "only if we can sing real loud."  Well that goes with out saying, right?  Akira starts his groaning.  He says that he can't believe we're going to be listening to Madonna and he promises to put his MP3 player in and do his best to ignore us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all in the car, and Sarah and i are singing pretty loudly, Akira is in the back seat (without his headphones on.  He says it's because the music is so loud he wouldn't be able to hear his headphones over top of Madonna, but i think he was actually enjoying it, and just waaaaay too manly to admit it.)  We cycle through all the classics, Like a Virgin (i was reminded of the movie Reservoir Dogs), Cherish, Borderline, Lucky Star, Holiday, etc.  We're almost home and i'm thinking this has got to be the Feel-Good CD of the millennium.  Akira looks at me with much shame and a little bit of disdain and informs me that no straight guy should ever sing Like A Virgin.   Just then Vogue comes on.  Sarah and I look at each other "Strike A Pose!!!"  Akira promptly adds Vogue to the list of songs straight guys should never ever sing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on Akira, like you've never struck a pose.  Everyone has Vogued at least once in their life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yea, I got my fill of Madonna today and personally, I'm loving it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-1964443742042790011?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/1964443742042790011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=1964443742042790011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/1964443742042790011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/1964443742042790011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/madonna.html' title='Madonna'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7634364139878090585</id><published>2008-02-13T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T19:01:58.555-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Attractive Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I love music... I love the chords, the rhythms, the melodies, and i especially love good lyrics.  Often times i am completely overwhelmed by how wonderfully certain words can sound, and how their meanings can convey emotions that so often mirror my own.  And no matter how i'm feeling, when the right song comes along it always makes me feel good about my place in life.  It makes all the stress, and bad shit that is twisting my stomach up in knots go away (at least for for a little while), because i know someone out there felt the same as me, and look at them, they were able to make something out of it.  Today, the song "Attractive Today" by Motion City Soundtrack was the song that mirrored how i felt.  I took the liberty of putting into bold the lines that really described how i felt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am wrecked. I am overblown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; I'm also fed up with the common cold.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt; But I just hate to say goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt; To all the metaphors and lies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt; That have taken me years to come up with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Say it's true. Say you like me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I like you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Just for the night &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; For me it's been eternity..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; And as I gently sip this drink,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt; I think about my lack of future,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; And all the places I could learn to fall in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I know I shouldn't waste my time,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Wishing I'd been better designed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Yet for some reason still think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I am wrecked. I am overblown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I'm also fed up with the fucking common cold!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; When I just want to feel alive &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; For the first time in my life,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I just want to feel attractive today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7634364139878090585?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7634364139878090585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7634364139878090585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7634364139878090585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7634364139878090585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/attractive-today.html' title='Attractive Today'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4934693119195288186</id><published>2008-02-10T22:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T23:31:15.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So here's the thing about suits...</title><content type='html'>So i'm graduating in a little over a month, and i'm going to need a suit for the big day and i'll prolly be interviewing for jobs after that.  I don't have a suit, i don't think i ever have, and certainly not one i've ever actually wanted to wear.  So I get a book, The Details Style Manual, and start reading up.  I'm not huge into clothes, i couldn't tell you designers, or even whats "in" right now, but i like to look presentable, and i like to look well put together.  So i'm dead set on finding a something classic, something that looks nice, something that looks a little tailored.  According to Details, a bad suit is as easy to pick out in a crowd as a bad toupee, and i damn sure i don't wanna be that guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i go in there knowing what i'm going to pick up.  I skinny gray suit, 2 shirts (one with pencil strips, one pale blue) and a tie (blue and silver striped)  I'm all excited, and a little nervous.  Excited cause i'm going to look good, nervous cause it's a new situation and i have to talk to some guy i've never met and rely on him to help me out and make me look good.  (i get nervous around barbers for the same reasons, I just think getting a haircut is an awkward social situation)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do i end up walking out with? A Pick up slip (so that i can pick up my gray suit thats getting tailored (it has pin stripes, small understated ones cause i don't like to be flashy), a red shirt and a gray and black and red tie, a black shirt with a small patterned white tie, and a pale gray shirt with a black tie with small blue stripes, a dark navy blazer, and a pair of even newer dress shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to spend about 400-450 bucks, and i end up spending considerably more, how does this happen you might ask?  well in short, i fold like origami.  I have no backbone and i can't stand up to the sales guy at Men's Wearhouse.  "what shoes are you wearing with your suit?  those ones you bought last night?  i don't think so! those are way too casual for a suit"  "how about a sport coat, it'll knock 50 bucks off of your suit price, and tack on 70 more to your overall total"  "Which of these shirts and ties combinations do you like, I'm not going to show you a price tag on anything and let it be a surprise when you get to the register."  damn him for making me look so good, and damn me for not have the chutzpah to say "how much" or even "no thank you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, i now know that i can go to mytailor.com and get my shirts and suits custom made to fit me, and not have to talk to anyone for only a few bucks more.  Well worth the extra few bucks, no pressure sales and better fitting clothes.   Hooray internet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4934693119195288186?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4934693119195288186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4934693119195288186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4934693119195288186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4934693119195288186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/so-heres-thing-about-suits.html' title='So here&apos;s the thing about suits...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7078598045895760531</id><published>2008-02-09T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T20:28:43.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do they make shoes so confusing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R659KZ1PAqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/tSKWRmP-hlY/s1600-h/shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R659KZ1PAqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/tSKWRmP-hlY/s320/shoes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165203440326869666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I needed a new pair of kicks.  My plans for tomorrow consist of me going out with my buddy Kate-o to buy me a suit (we'll see how that adventure goes in a later post).  So Mom informs me that if i'm trying on a new suit i need to get a pair of nice looking shoes to go with it, and wear them when trying on the suits so i know how far down the pant legs need to go.   It makes sense to me, so i walk over to the nearest shopping center and go into Famous Footwear to find a nice pair of shoes, the 3rd pair i try on fit really well, so i send a pic to mom to see if they meet her approval (cause if mom isn't happy then nobody's happy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While i'm wandering around the shoe store, waiting for Ma to text me back, i wander over to the chucks and start perusing the styles.  i found a pair of high-tops  with a Sailor Jerry pin up on the side, which i thought was smoking hot, but they didn''t have any in my size.  Next up was a pair of black and grey double Chucks.  They looked sweet.  They were kinda like two pairs of Chucks sewn together, a grey pair sewn over top of a classic black pair.  When i tried them on, only the inside set of eyelets were laced up, it was enough to to tell that they fit me well, and a saw that there was a set of black laces to do the outside set of eyelets with, so i stick 'em on top the other shoes and charge them to Mom's credit card (i figured if it was her idea to buy shoes, she should also pay for them too, you know so she can have the whole experience.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get my shoes home, take a shower, and head in to work where i pull out the black laces and try to start lacing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, my plans come to a screeching halt.  How the Hell do you lace these things?  I got 14 eyelets and 2 laces for each shoe.  It's not like shoes come with an instruction manual.  so i go to the next best thing.  The internet.  Would you beleive that every picture of my shoes on the net are unlaced?  Thats completely useless.  So i start fidgeting around with the laces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An Hour and a half later, i finally got both shoes laced up to my satisfaction, and looking pretty fly (at least for a white guy).  Damn, it took for freakin' ever.  Was it worth it?  you betcha.  But why on earth couldn't they have made it easier, or had instructions or something?  ionno, whatever.  I still can't believe it took an hour and a half....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7078598045895760531?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7078598045895760531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7078598045895760531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7078598045895760531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7078598045895760531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/why-do-they-make-shoes-so-confusing.html' title='Why do they make shoes so confusing?'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R659KZ1PAqI/AAAAAAAAAAM/tSKWRmP-hlY/s72-c/shoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7838101962026190567</id><published>2008-02-03T19:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T20:25:12.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>crisis</title><content type='html'>I got a new coat a couple of weeks ago.  It's pretty sweet.  It's a black peacoat.  It's a wool cashmere blend so it's nice and soft, it's got a layer of thinsulate stuff to make it warm, and it makes me feel sexy (which is VERY important).  I was only mildly annoyed when i found out that 1/5 of the student population here own a black double breasted peacoat.  After all, it was very difficult to find a coat that i liked 2 weeks into the new year.  (Is it me or is it weird to see swimsuits and overcoats in the store at the same time?)  My coat was in the last store i looked in, a Von Maur, which is a creepy, rich grandpa kinda of store.  the store smells like a funeral home.  So anyways, if i were to sum up, it was hard work finding a coat i liked, but man do i really like it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i've been wearing a black peacoat everywhere i go.  In order to do this, i feel a need to wear black shoes.  you gotta match right?  so my wardrobe choices have been dictated by my black pumas for about 2 1/2 weeks now.  so what does this mean?  if you saw my wardrobe you'd prolly know.  It means i've been wearing nothing but black, grey, and white for two plus weeks.  I've been a penguin!  Completely monochromatic.  My wardrobe consists of black white tan,  grey and brown.  Why? you might ask? cause i don't like to stand out in a crowd.  It's a pretty easy to be invisible in the midst of 50,000 OSU students.  neutral colors help you blend in, so i don't own a lot of colors in my wardrobe.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so it's friday night and i'm out with my friends, i'm wearing a pale grey button down shirt with a white collar on it, grey levi 559s, black shoes, black belt, and black socks with little skulls and crossbones on them.  OH SHIT! It finally hits me, i've been dressing like a goth for 2+ weeks.  I start panicking.   AWWWWWW JEEEZ! AWWWWWWWW CRAP! AWWWWWWWW GOLLY!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need color like a gay fashion designer.  (yes i watch project runway, no i don't care if it puts my masculinity into question)  So yesterday i make a trip out to Old Navy looking for color.  What do i buy, a White button down shirt (hey at least it's bright) and a pale grey t-shirt, and a pale blue t-shirt.  Not bright color, but the pale blue at least isn't mono chromatic.  ionno, i can't seem to get past my preference for non-color.   but after switching things up and wearing some browns and tans and crazy socks, i feel better about myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One crisis averted.  the rest of my life, all filled with crisis, to go.  oh well, thank god for small victories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(and in case you're wondering why i posted a new post on my obsolete blog?  well i was reading my old posts and i realized that i kinda liked my posts.  it kinda made me want to start keeping tabs on me again cause it least i'll entertain myself.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7838101962026190567?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7838101962026190567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7838101962026190567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7838101962026190567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7838101962026190567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2008/02/crisis.html' title='crisis'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7841803014353004079</id><published>2007-02-09T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T09:15:17.717-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Facial Hair February</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So the guys at the front desk tell me it’s Facial Hair February.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And what, pray tell, is this ‘facial hair February’?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, they says, all the guys at the front desk are going to grow out beards.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well let’s give it try. We put up a sign saying Facial Hair Feb. brought to you buy the men of the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Drackett&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Tower&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; front desk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And we start growing our beards.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHHHHHHHHH!!! Do you hear that!?! Listen real hard.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That is the sound of my beard growing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I’m getting kinda excited about this.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m going to be rugged.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Clint Eastwood is rugged, Bruce Willis is rugged. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I’m going to be a real man’s man.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I go four days without shaving.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I had some mixed reviews, some told me I was looking good, others told me it just kinda looked dirty.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My faithful sidekick (read: roommate) told me to hang in there, once it gets a little longer I’ll like it better.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I hang in there.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then a few days ago I wake up at 1:30 in the morning and touched my face.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope that’s the end of that game.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I immediately get up and go shave.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Screw that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I kinda sheepishly go down to work later that night, knowing I’m going to have to come up with a good reason for my silky smooth face.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I tell the guys:&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;“It’s not the size of the beard on the outside; it’s the size of the beard on the inside that counts.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7841803014353004079?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7841803014353004079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7841803014353004079' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7841803014353004079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7841803014353004079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/02/facial-hair-february.html' title='Facial Hair February'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-300031223163317058</id><published>2007-01-23T09:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T09:15:17.852-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Work sucks...</title><content type='html'>Tuesdays are the worst days of the week for me.  I have to get up early, (8:15) so I can get a bowl cereal in before i go to work.  Today's bowl was Apple jacks.  Then i go to work for four hours. I know you can't really call it work, today i studied for a midterm while listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.   When i get off of work at 1, I head off to my first class at 1:30.  I am in class from 1:30-3:18, and then from 3:30-5:18.  So you add it up, my day is 9-5:30. That's 8 hours, plus a half hour for lunch.  (except my half hour is taken up by walking to class)  I dread this day, above all other days in the week.  Tuesday is the worst.   And there are people out there who do this five days a week.  How do these people do it?   All i can say is that working...having a full time J-O-B... It's not for me.  Maybe i can skip it and go straight to retirement.   That would be nice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to those unfortunate souls that have to put in 40 hours a week.   I be sure to catch a few extra hours of sleep just for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-300031223163317058?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/300031223163317058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=300031223163317058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/300031223163317058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/300031223163317058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/work-sucks.html' title='Work sucks...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-2502794900588367926</id><published>2007-01-21T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T06:09:37.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie time...</title><content type='html'>Let me tell you all about a little movie called Pan’s Labyrinth.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was made in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;spain&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, so it’s all in Spanish speak.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But don’t hold that against it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The film is amazing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is wonderfully shot and acted, and the special effects were pretty cool too.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The movie is about a little girl who, in the midst of the 1940 Spanish civil war, leaves the city and travels with her pregnant mother to an old mill in the middle of nowhere, so they can live with some mean tyrannical captain who is trying to put down a rogue group of rebels.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;With all this going on around her, the girl still finds time to visit this creepy/beautiful world of magic and danger, inhabited by fairies and fauns.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The movie is crazy good.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I give it 8-1/2 out of 11.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Go see it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-2502794900588367926?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/2502794900588367926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=2502794900588367926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/2502794900588367926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/2502794900588367926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/movie-time.html' title='Movie time...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-109865191052342015</id><published>2007-01-17T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T19:09:44.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So here’s what I’m thinkin’…</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Have you ever heard of an art therapist?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or a music therapist?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m thinking maybe that might be what I want to do when I graduate.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It sounds like I hippie job to me too, but hear me out.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I really like my psych classes that I’m taking especially the ones for clinical and counseling psych.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Those are the most interesting ones.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You get to look at all the weird sick-os in the world, and then you try to help them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Challenging, fun, and interesting. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then you get to teach them how to paint, or find out which kinds of music they should listen to, or show them fun uplifting movies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And I get to take fun classes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Like painting 101, or learn to draw, and then art education. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Or basic music theory (aka help with my guitar). How cool is that?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I mean, the things I do for fun, I get to take classes for.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Honestly.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’d almost be like not going to school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’d get a degree for finger-painting.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then I’d get a job in a field that is growing at a “faster then average rate,” &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;whatever that means.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And I get to work for fun places.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Like get a nice cushy job working for a government funded hospital, or at a hospice or a nursing home (maybe not there, old people creep me out.) or a prison.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve seen enough prison movies to know that prison folk are good natured, honest people, who just need a little more direction in their lives.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’d be the guy showing them how to paint those pictures of flying birds and stuff. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Like that old man from “Escape from &lt;st1:place&gt;Alcatraz&lt;/st1:place&gt;.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You know the one who cut off his fingers in the workshop?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’d be hanging out with people like him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-109865191052342015?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/109865191052342015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=109865191052342015' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/109865191052342015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/109865191052342015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/so-heres-what-im-thinkin.html' title='So here’s what I’m thinkin’…'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4511467898462732189</id><published>2007-01-13T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-13T19:58:03.893-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The opposite of terrorism...</title><content type='html'>I spent two hours of my life yesterday streaming the keynote from the Macworld conference.   Two whole hours.  watching Steve Jobs do his powerpoint thing.  Now the thing that kept my eyes glued to the computer screen was a little something you have probably heard of by now, the i-phone.  But contrary to how it might seem, unveiling the most advanced, breathtakingly awesome piece of techno-wizardry I think i have ever seen, was not the highlight of the two hour video stream.  the last ten minutes.  Those were ten minutes that changed the way i think of apple inc.  forever.  John Mayer comes out and preforms a couple of songs.  In itself it wasn't all that odd, he has performed at the last 3 Macworld conferences.  It was what was said in between the song "Gravity"  and "Waiting on the world to change."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is what was said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know i was sitting backstage watching the whole presentation like i have for the last few years, and i realized something.  You guys, Steve Jobs, and the whole Apple Inc.  You make the world happier.  You're Like the Opposite of terrorism.  When I'm Around you, I'm at threat level green.  It's amazing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, i thought it was funny.  and john mayer rocks, I get to see him on Feb. 23rd.  WOO-HOO, Excitement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4511467898462732189?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4511467898462732189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4511467898462732189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4511467898462732189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4511467898462732189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/opposite-of-terrorism.html' title='The opposite of terrorism...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-649482366192706803</id><published>2007-01-11T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T06:14:55.877-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I said it before, and I'll say it again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Steve McQueen is the coolest guy EVER!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out with my hat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Actually, it didn’t start with my hat, because when it started, I didn’t have my hat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It really started when I couldn’t find my hat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I could have sworn that I had put it in my laundry basket when I had moved back to college after break.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I haven’t seen it since.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Which is a total shame, because I loved that hat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It met every important hat qualification.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was warm, it covered my ears, and it didn’t make my obscenely large head look bigger then it actually is.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So when the cold front came through, my poor widdle ears damn near froze off.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I made the 25 minute trek over to the nearest Target store (I prefer the French pronunciation, it sounds more classy.) with a laundry list of needed supplies, on top of which was an awesome hat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It took some time, but I finally found a hat I kinda liked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(at least it covered my ears and matched my coat.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Unfortunately I had to buy the stupid Hat/scarf Combo, even though I already have a green scarf that I liked better, but it was on sale and at least I would have a hat.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I grabbed the milk and munchies that made up the rest of my list, and on the way toward the check out line, I spy the electronics department.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know I shouldn’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know I don’t want to spend the extra cash , but there’s no harm in looking, right? I’m a compulsive DVD and CD buyer, I know this, but I can see what they have and enjoy looking.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t &lt;i style=""&gt;have&lt;/i&gt; to buy anything.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My will power is strong enough, right?&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16;"&gt;WRONG!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I had almost finished my perusing the DVD Isles when I spotted it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The sale sign was practically glowing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was heaven sent.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was like an archeologist who had just deciphered the hieroglyphics informing me that below these words was some slumbering king incased in his gilded sarcophagus of glory.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In short: It was the find of my life. The sign read as follows:    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Film Classics: 2 Disc Collectors Sets, Newly Remastered $10.00&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I took it like a blow to the gut!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Aarrgghhh!!!!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know I don’t spend the extra cash, but…but…MOVIES!!! &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;SALE&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;!!! ONE TIME ONLY!!!&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wish there was a 12 step program for people like me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the end, the movies “Bullitt” and Rebel without a Cause found themselves in the company of a ½ gallon of milk and my hat inside of a plastic target bag.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So I get to work last night, and I check to make sure I’m caught up with my readings and homework, (homework yes; readings almost), and I stick the movie “Bullitt” into my laptop.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(what kinda of crazy awesome job lets you watch movies on the clock?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mine.)&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The movie is really good.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But more importantly Steve McQueen is &lt;i style=""&gt;sooooooooo&lt;/i&gt; Cool!&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Everything he does, I want to emulate.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I want the Steve McQueen Hair cut, I want the hot girl who drives the Porsche.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I want the dark green Mustang that I can tear through the streets of &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;San Francisco&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; with.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I want the tight blue turtle neck and a brown plaid jacket with the nifty leather patches over the elbows.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;McQueen is so cool, that he doesn’t need his gun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He’s chasing armed perps with his gun in his crazy upside-down, quickdraw holster just under his left arm.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Any lesser man have his gun out at the ready, if not when chasing an armed suspect, then surely after the second or third time the suspect shot at you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But not Steve McQueen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Steve is so cool that when he misses a turn while filming that famous car chase, and he slams the ‘tang into reverse and then peels out down the correct road, they keep that in the movie.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When a major &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Hollywood&lt;/st1:place&gt; film company wants to cut loose and use the word “bullshit” for the first time ever…they get Steve McQueen to do it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You get the idea? He’s too cool for school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He is completely awesome.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Heck, he could take Chuck Norris.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I looked up the definition of Bad Ass in the Dictionary, there was a picture of Steve.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And I want to be just like him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-649482366192706803?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/649482366192706803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=649482366192706803' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/649482366192706803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/649482366192706803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-said-it-before-and-ill-say-it-again.html' title='I said it before, and I&apos;ll say it again...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7937718687684098927</id><published>2007-01-09T06:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-09T06:32:34.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WTFuck,</title><content type='html'>I don’t what to say.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m flabbergasted, astonished, disappointed, despondent, despaired, and other words that end in ‘des.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give it up to &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Florida&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt;, I mean they played hard, they played well, and deserved the win.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just wish I could say the same about us.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a shitty game on our part.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I mean, we had 51 days between the last game of the season and the bowl game, which apparently is just long enough for JT (oh Jim Tressel) to forget how to play football. &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Florida&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt; tore up our zone defense, why didn’t we adjust and go man to man?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Pittman tore up on the carries, why didn’t we screw the passing game when we knew that every receiver was going to be covered, and that their blitz is going to get around Troy Smiths blockers, and start handing off to Pittman?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why couldn’t we play good solid football like we did the first 8 or 9 games of our season?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Prolly cause we’re a bunch of cocky bastards who thought we could get away with playing like crap.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But campus sucks today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I look around at the faces as they head off to class, they’re all sad and downtrodden.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My prediction for class is that there will be a 20 % attendance rate and a 50% hangover rate of those that do go.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;People have already come back with their class having been canceled. Nobody on campus cares.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is sad and depressed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And so am I.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;All I can say is WTFuck, man.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;WTFuck.  &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7937718687684098927?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7937718687684098927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7937718687684098927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7937718687684098927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7937718687684098927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/wtfuck.html' title='WTFuck,'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-2619505203751637628</id><published>2007-01-07T02:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T02:51:05.668-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Theaterhound</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Since I’m on the confession kick, I’ll divulge my other addiction.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wait for it….&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;MOVIES!!!! &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I love movies. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I love the theater.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I love just about everything about the theater, The huge screen, the trailers, those moments right before the lights dim, when the lights dim.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I love being a part of the movie watching community, I love everything.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The Salty Snacks, the Loud surround sound, everything…I am a theaterhound. I’ll go to the movies cause I miss the theater, even if nothing good is playing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really like the atmosphere of the movie theater.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;But I also love the movies. new movies, old movies, all kinds of movies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Anything that will transport me into another world. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;And here is the latest. Children of Men.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The best damn movie I’ve seen in a good long while.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In the future, humans lose the ability to reproduce.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This means it’s the end of the world.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s a slow tortured death that people have to sit and watch as the human population steadily decreases with no new members to replenish the dead.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The world goes to shit.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What’s the point of abiding by society’s laws when in a few decades nothing will matter?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Factions of people are warring, and fighting and killing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the midst of all this, a miracle happens.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The world’s only pregnant woman stubbles into the collective laps of Clive Owen and Julianne Moore.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is up to them to get her to the Human Project, A collection of the world greatest minds &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;who are working to fix the infertility problem.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Alfonso Cuaron Has created one of the best movies In theater today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is Beautifully and masterfully crafted, the actors give genuine performances and the whole movie just works.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The story line, to the casting to every last detail.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And the best part.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Towards the end of the movie, there was one take, it was one of the greatest takes ever.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It had to have been five minutes long.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One long continuous shot, no edits, just the camera following Clive Owen through war torn streets and through a building being shredded by gunfire. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The must have been 100 people in and out of this one shot.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Things were exploding, the camera kept panning around, making sure you saw all of the ugly details of humanities worst.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was awesome.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Go out and see it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Right this very instant.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Trust me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The theaterhound knows his movies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-2619505203751637628?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/2619505203751637628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=2619505203751637628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/2619505203751637628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/2619505203751637628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/theaterhound.html' title='Theaterhound'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-2195428845479755402</id><published>2007-01-04T07:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T07:21:25.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Music-holic</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ve been gone for a while, but hey, it was the holidays, and who can blame me for not wanting to put that on hold for a just for a new post?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But now I’m back at college.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Classes have started, (I’ve had one), and I’m back working at the front desk again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One paragraph into the post and three people have asked for help.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One person didn’t know where a class room building was, so we looked it up on the internet and found the wrong building numbered 26.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I sent her off in the wrong direction (oops.).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then someone wanted an envelope (we don’t have any), and someone wanted to know when the floor meeting is (I don’t live on your floor, and it is up to the RA to make sure everyone knows when the meetings are).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So needless to say, I’m 0 for 3.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Damn.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel worthless.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe round two will see me do a little better.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have a confession to make, and a blog is as good a place as any.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So here it goes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My name is Adam, and I’m a music-holic.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That’s right.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I compulsively buy CDs to feed my addiction, I-Tunes robs me of my money on what seems to be a daily basis, even my TV rarely leaves MTVU (the MTV for college kids.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It plays almost only music videos with a few sprinkles of MTVU news and clips from college kids around the nation.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;from the time I wake up in the morning until I go to bed, my TV plays music videos.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll even listen to my own music, with the music videos on mute.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That is not&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;an uncommon sight in my dorm room.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As I type I am giddy as a school girl, because my new i-pod should arrive today, because my old one is full and I have no place to put my new music.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m in a constant search for more music, good music, and new favorites. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;That being said, let me introduce you to my latest CD purchase&lt;i style=""&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The Best of Faces: Good Boys When They’re Sleeping&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Having not heard of the band Faces before, When my cousin recommended the band to me, I went right out and bought the greatest hits album.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(remember: addicted to new music)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Faces is a good old rock n’ roll band.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You take the band Small Faces, and you add Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood. That’s how you get faces.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This was&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt; the&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; band back in the day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After they broke up, Rod Stewart had his brilliant solo career.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ron Wood joined the stones.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The ROLLING STONES! Kenny Jones, the drummer joined the Who after their Keith Moon Died.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I mean, seriously, could the band get any bigger.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The whole CD is quality, but if nothing else, do yourself a favor and get a hold of the following songs: Maybe I’m Amazed, Ooh La La, and Three Button Hand Me Down&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-2195428845479755402?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/2195428845479755402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=2195428845479755402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/2195428845479755402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/2195428845479755402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2007/01/music-holic.html' title='Music-holic'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4455201215786351928</id><published>2006-12-29T07:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T07:04:25.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretend Christmas...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;December 29&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; and Christmas has finally passed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It took a long time to get here, but I am glad it is over.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The whole Christmas thing for our family started on the 23&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;We went over to visit all of my Dad’s brothers and sisters.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was the youngest one there by 7 years, so it was a little hard to feel included, but I survived.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I mostly sat and listened to people talk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And they are such great talkers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My dad likes his Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. And back in the day, so did my dad’s brother Steve.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So they would sit and drink and talk and play card games.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now this was a regular thing when they were younger.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And after tossing back a few, Steve would have troubles telling which can of PBR was his.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But my dad always seemed to know.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would pick up both cans, swirl them around a bit and very definitively say which can was his.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So here we are, years later, and Steve is still baffled and amazed that my dad could always tell which was his. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Well to this my dad replies, “ I never knew which was which, Steve, I always just picked the can with the most beer left and told you it was mine.”&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So after the 23&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt;, I there was the 24&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Which we watched miracle on &lt;st1:street st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:address st="on"&gt;34&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; street&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:street&gt; and then it’s a wonderful life on TV.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then on the 25&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; we went to Granma’s and had lunch and then had what was left of lunch for dinner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The 26&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; came and now, mom start to get the Christmas feeling she blasted Christmas music all day long.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why the hell she would wait till after Christmas to start played the appropriate music I’ll never know.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We spent all day cleaning house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then on the 27&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; we went to C-bus to pick up my sister, Katie and her boyfriend Van, from the airport.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They live in D.C. so it is difficult for them to always come home exactly on the holiday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now comes the 29&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Pretend Christmas.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mom and Gran’ma are far more religious then me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They are both Christians and me, not so much.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Around this time of year, I can buy into about half of all the holiday stuff… Santa, reindeer, Frosty, the Grinch…they all go down smooth, but all the stuff about Jesus’ birthday?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That’s just ridiculous.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And thusly I am a bit cynical about the holiday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So this year I’ve been calling it Santa’s birthday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Being cynical, and wanting to stir the pot a little bit, I asked mom, if celebrating my dad’s birthday (Dec. 22&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt;) on the day that we were celebrating Christmas would take away from Jesus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mom told me that the 28&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; is only pretend Christmas, so it doesn’t really matter.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So on pretend Christmas, we opened presents and had dinner her with Gran’ma and Gran’pa.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was fun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I enjoyed all the food and all the family that surrounded my on that day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;Now I’m off to enjoy the rest of my break, only 4 days till I go back to school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Better make them last.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4455201215786351928?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4455201215786351928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4455201215786351928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4455201215786351928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4455201215786351928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2006/12/pretend-christmas.html' title='Pretend Christmas...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7573929372601192726</id><published>2006-12-20T20:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T20:36:32.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>home.</title><content type='html'>I've been home 4 hours and already i have done nothing but eat.  Home made buckeyes,  chocolate chip cookies, bagel  bites... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know what it is about being home, but there is always so much food at my fingertips, so many sweets and candies, that i want to do nothing more then eat and get fat.  It's disgusting, but right now, it seems like such a good plan.  here's to good food and and to my inevitable weight gain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7573929372601192726?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7573929372601192726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7573929372601192726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7573929372601192726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7573929372601192726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2006/12/home.html' title='home.'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4046087579028311358</id><published>2006-12-19T22:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T02:48:55.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 7...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have 6 more hours and counting.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am still bored out of my skull.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am still tired.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am ready to leave.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The girl I’m working with is watching &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Elizabethtown&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, and I am preparing myself to watch Orlando Bloom kill himself in the most spectacular way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have a feeling he’s going to hufflepuff his way out of it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have 5 days till Christmas and I have yet to get into the spirit of things.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m not really a scrooge, I’m not a holiday hater, although it does bother me when people take it too seriously or put to much stock in it religiously.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I just don’t feel the magic of the season.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What happened?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It used to be sparkling with magic, wonder and amazement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was the one time of year where I actually thought that people were better just because of the proximity of a certain date.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some arbitrary day, and the entire month leading up to it, could change people.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not just one person, not just a group of people, but everyone on earth.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;  Every human was a better person.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everyone became a little more friendly, a little more giving and a little more loving.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now, Christmas is just a day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Albeit a day where people give each other presents, but a day nonetheless.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know, maybe I just remember the way silly cartoons about yogis’ first Christmas or a balding 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt; grader and his beagle seemed to sum up the holiday spirit so perfectly, and that was what was important.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And maybe I miss that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Maybe I want to recapture those moments in my life when I still believed a single day could make people nicer and treat one another better then on any other day of the year. Recapture the unwavering faith of childhood. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Unfortunately, I think that I will probably never feel that way again. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here is what I do think.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think that those who do decide to be good this month.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To be a better person because of some random date.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think those people make the holiday worth celebrating.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These people offset the bad seeds in the world.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Those who never want to be friendly or be giving or caring.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And the world, which I believe is usually an even keel,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;tips in favor of what is positive and right and good.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For 11 months out of the year, I believe that for every act of evil, someone out there counterbalances it by doing something good, but in this final month, there is enough good will and enough people with a desire to be caring and giving, to make the world better.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everyone might not be a better person, but the world can maybe, just maybe, be a better place.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4046087579028311358?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4046087579028311358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4046087579028311358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4046087579028311358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4046087579028311358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2006/12/day-7.html' title='Day 7...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-7935714875220072163</id><published>2006-12-18T22:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T22:11:33.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Still workin’.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Does the phrase ‘another day another dollar’ apply to people working third trick?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hope so, wouldn’t it be nice to have a cliché to justify a 70 hour work week?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After I finish work at &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="7"&gt;7am&lt;/st1:time&gt; on Wednesday morning, I get to squeeze in a few hours of sleep and then go home. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I’ll be home for about 2 weeks, till at few days into the new year when classes will begin again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am looking forward to being home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Home is the greatest.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is what I am looking forward to when I go home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am looking forward to doing nothing, sprawling out on the couch watching rented DVDs with my Dad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m looking forward to playing my guitar, blasting my way through ‘wild thing,’ ‘jumping jack flash,” and others, while my mom has to listen, (it’ll remind her of when I had a garage band in high school, she say she’ll miss the boys coming to her house and causing a racket.).&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ll get to eat my dad’s famous, (well, they ought to be famous) soft sour cream sugar cookies.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These cookies, I’m not ever allowed to decorate.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have a problem when it comes icing, and candy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The family and I have differing opinions on how many M&amp;Ms are too many.&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m looking forward to seeing my Grandpa try to hide his smile as family gathers around in the living room to talk after lunch.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He always tries to be the big, strong, stoic man, but when it comes to his grandkids, he can never quite keep his lips from curling upwards.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m looking forward to playing scrabble with my mom and sister and her boyfriend.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m looking forward to not working, and not missing the sun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m looking forward to sitting at home, with no obligations, no agendas, and to be able to enjoy my family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;‘Cause I figure, Christmas is about family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Above all the peace on earth, goodwill to men, that everyone preaches.   Above all the religious mojo jojo.  &lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s all about family, and the love that keeps you together.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And I am going to take full advantage of the time I have with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-7935714875220072163?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/7935714875220072163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=7935714875220072163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7935714875220072163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/7935714875220072163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2006/12/day-6.html' title='Day 6...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-4292444236887658588</id><published>2006-12-18T00:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T00:33:47.039-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yep, you guessed it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m at work.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Again.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The girl I’m working with is off in the lobby watching some special on the secret lives of Jesus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And I am manning the desk on my own for an hour or so.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;15 minutes in and I’m already bored.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So here I am, on the blog again.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Here was my evening…&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don’t know if you know this or not.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But OSU is home to about 50,000 students.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It does rank as one of the largest universities ever.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But in the middle of winter break there is not a soul here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And it creeps me out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This giant campus, which during the quarter, is pulsating.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;People everywhere, going about their business, going from building to building, class to class.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But now?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Lifeless.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Dead.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Caught in the middle of campus at night, and there is not a trace of life for a mile on all sides.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Eerie.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To me it feels like the end of the world.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It feels like I’m trapped in a twilight zone episode.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You know the one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Where the guy wakes up and he can’t find anyone, not his friends, or family or even his neighbor who likes to borrow his tools and never returns them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The feeling of being somewhere otherworldly and strange is only amplified by the fact that this is the third day in a row that I have missed the sun.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I go to bed before it rises and wake up after it has already set.&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;So here I am, standing in the dark, and I’m utterly alone.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;At the end of the world, my i-pod paints a melancholy picture.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sure, I could try to find something cheerful to listen to, but every time I click for a new song, the music gets creepier and creepier.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I sing out, trying to provide myself with company, but my screams echo off the glass and brick and mortar of the buildings.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I pace the pathways and streets under the black sky,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;hoping to catch some sign of life.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The street lamps are glowing; traffic signals flash and change colors as they’re supposed to.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But there isn’t anyone to obey the commands.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It’s just creepy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I shove my fists deep into my pockets and to fight off a chill.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I look at my watch.  I have two hours before work.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I choose a direction and head off to find my dinner.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-4292444236887658588?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/4292444236887658588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=4292444236887658588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4292444236887658588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/4292444236887658588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2006/12/day-5.html' title='Day 5....'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516684137028602413.post-3016566844388866264</id><published>2006-12-16T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T19:00:42.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The first post...</title><content type='html'>“I think a Blog is incredibly pretentious.  To think that there are people out there, who don’t know you, but would care to read about your thoughts and opinions and day to day happenings is just plain pretentious.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are words.  They are my Words.  And I am eating them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have started a blog.  The temperature in hell is about negative 3 degrees Fahrenheit.  In fact, I think I can see Satan building a snowman.  And now that I have revealed to everyone on the interweb that I’m a hypocritical jerk; I’ll plead my case. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on the fourth night of working 9p.m.-7.a.m. at the front desk in the dorm where I live.  I am bored.  I am tired (I threw that in there as an excuse for the typos).  And maybe I wanted to see if anyone out there cared.  It’s not likely, and my hopes are not held high . But one never can tell.  I started this blog as my own entertainment, a place where I can let my thoughts escape to.  And if some one decides to read it and enjoys it, I will be very flattered.  And I figure with my short attention span, I’ll prolly get bored after 5 posts and then never post again.  But like a said, you never can tell.  Perhaps I will stick with it and become the voice of a generation?  Nah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am pleading a case, I need to make a closing argument.  Sum up my case.  Then leave it to the world to pass its judgment on each and every post I submit for its consideration.  So…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I claim to not be a pretentious jerk, because in starting my blog, I was looking only at my own entertainment, and those who decide to read, and follow my posts, I’ll take that as a compliment.  And if no one decides to read it, then…well, I guess I really don’t care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5516684137028602413-3016566844388866264?l=racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/feeds/3016566844388866264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5516684137028602413&amp;postID=3016566844388866264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/3016566844388866264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5516684137028602413/posts/default/3016566844388866264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://racingpacingrestlessandbored.blogspot.com/2006/12/first-post.html' title='The first post...'/><author><name>Adam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05531048323860935242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_px1mqblIPbU/R71VaJ1PAsI/AAAAAAAAAAY/YblfQ2k4gQs/S220/IMG_1228.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
