Friends, a very special message awaits you at this very special link:
http://7daysinasentra.blogs.com/7days/
I’m starting an entirely new school of thought (classes begin Thursday) dedicated entirely to why paper beats rock. I’ve just never bought the explanation that paper “smothers” rock. As if your average rock needs plenty of fresh air to do its rocky thing. Makes me wonder how many smooth, flat stones I’ve sent skipping into a watery grave…Play me?
Here's ye olde code to post the game on your MySpace:
<embed src="http://7daysinasentra.blogs.com/roShamBo.swf"
width="300" height="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"
type="application/x-shockwave-flash" />
Like many of you, I was busy watching my friends watch football. And I heard a lot about who has "home field advantage" and "whose side the crowd’s on."
Think about it, people. All the great conquests were away games.
The ancient Vikings, for one, didn’t do any conquering at home. What would be the point? Instead, they got in their dragon-headed team bus and rowed off on a five-village plundering road series. No fan support anywhere. Gnarly beards helped.
Everybody should conquer and everybody can. For example, during a road trip to Frisco, I drank two bottles of sparking apple juice in a half hour. In memoriam, I built this and taped it on the dashboard of my Sentra.
Memories are the woven tapestries of our lives. Mine has moths. Honest. I can’t remember anything. That’s why I blog. If I didn’t have a permanent online record of the stuff I’ve done, I’d probably think I was raised in the Sahara by a wild pack of xylophones. Go ahead, ask me how many years I spent in Saskatchewan. Good question. I don’t remember. Let me check my blog… You scoundrel! I’ve never even been to Saskatchewan! Is there no limit to your trickery?!
Seriously. Somehow I parked my home ringside for Seagull Deathmatch III: This Time, It’s Personal. What a way to wake up.
Here’s the rest of the video. My photographic device steals Shadoe’s soul, leaving him at a scant +5 magic power. That is, until he pulls from his inventory the most fearsome of implements.
As I alluded to in my MySpace profile, my cell phone bill is out of control. It’s amazing who calls when you’re on TV. Old buddies, exes. Even my mom calls me more often.
The other day, I’m driving on the 10 and this white van pulls up along side me in the fast lane, slows down, nearly causing a pileup and stopping traffic behind him, rolls down his window and says, “hey, you’re the guy in those commercials.” I smiled. He asked me to take down his phone # and call him; I wrote it on my hand but accidentally washed it off.
Another time, I saw a billboard of myself and started laughing hysterically. The guy in the next car over looked at me, then at the billboard, then did a double take.
Everyone should have their own billboard at least once in their life.
To answer a popular question, no, I’m not still living in the Sentra. Other people think I live in a mansion. I don’t. I still do my own laundry and brush my own teeth.
on Before I Begin My Nationwide Blimp Pilot Search