<?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-20101222</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:47:46.835-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tout va bien...</title><subtitle type='html'>Just a look into my life... believe me, it's nothing Oscar worthy, but it's still worth a look!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>81</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-43216679073697163</id><published>2007-02-08T20:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T15:15:52.080-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Famous!</title><content type='html'>I was the one who submitted this to Overheard in Minneapolis!  Some people are so NOT P.C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go here to read what I overheard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.overheardinminneapolis.com/2007/02/all_that_when_hey_you_chinaman.html"&gt;All That When "Hey You! Chinaman!" Will Work Just Fine.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-43216679073697163?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/43216679073697163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=43216679073697163&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/43216679073697163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/43216679073697163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/02/im-famous.html' title='I&apos;m Famous!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-1334791209542718078</id><published>2007-02-08T15:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T15:13:30.603-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Anna</title><content type='html'>R.I.P Anna Nicole Smith...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOLLYWOOD, Fla. — Anna Nicole Smith, the former Playboy playmate whose bizarre life careened from marrying an octogenarian billionaire to the untimely death of her son, died Thursday after collapsing at a South Florida hotel, one of her lawyers said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smith, 39, collapsed and was unresponsive while staying at the Seminole Hard Rock Cafe Hotel and Casino, said the attorney, Ron Rale. She was rushed to a hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She checked in Monday at 8 p.m. as a guest. She was due to check out tomorrow," said Danielle Giordaano, a spokeswoman for the hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smith had been a tabloid staple even before she became Playboy's playmate of the year in 1993. Readers were fascinated by her bombshell good looks, her marriage to an elderly billionaire and subsequent court fight over his estate, her weight fluctuations, and last year, the sudden death of her 20-year-old son, Daniel Smith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A former topless dancer, she made her name squeezing into Guess jeans. She resembled the late actress Marilyn Monroe, a similarity played up in her Guess magazine ads, billboards and department store displays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1994, she married 89-year-old oil tycoon J. Howard Marshall II, the head of oil-based Koch Industries, which is part of a family fortune worth at least $400 million.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He died in 1995, setting off a feud with her former stepson, E. Pierce Marshall, over whether she had a right to his estate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A federal court in California awarded Smith $474 million in a complicated legal twist that began after she declared bankruptcy. That was later overturned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in May, the U.S. Supreme Court revived her case, ruling that she deserved another day in court in her battle with her former stepson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The justices said only that federal courts in California could deal with her case despite a Texas state court ruling that Marshall was the sole heir to the estate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the stepson died June 20 at age 67. But the family said the court fight would continue.  Daniel Smith died Sept. 10 in his mother's hospital room in the Bahamas, just days after she gave birth to a daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An American medical examiner hired by the family, Cyril Wecht, said he had methadone and two antidepressants in his system when he died. Low levels of the three drugs interacted to cause an accidental death, Wecht said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, the paternity of her now 5-month-old daughter remained a matter of dispute.&lt;br /&gt;She was born Vickie Lynn Hogan on Nov. 28, 1967, in Houston, one of six children of Donald Eugene and Virgie Hart Hogan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She married Bill Smith in 1985, giving birth to Daniel before divorcing two years later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-1334791209542718078?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/1334791209542718078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=1334791209542718078&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/1334791209542718078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/1334791209542718078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/02/anna.html' title='Anna'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-8669047910310996429</id><published>2007-02-06T15:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T15:28:38.221-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bertachel</title><content type='html'>After much torment and angst, we just couldn't keep our old version of Bertachel alive.  It failed to survive the transition from the old blogger to the new blogger.  We had no option but to kill the old Bertachel and create a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't fret my pets!  We were able to move most of our old posts to the new &lt;a href="http://bertachel.blogspot.com"&gt;Bertachel&lt;/a&gt; and we have even began writing new posts!  So make sure to check it out!  We promise to try and post more on Bertachel this time around, rather than every 2-3 months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May the flogging of fashion continue!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-8669047910310996429?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/8669047910310996429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=8669047910310996429&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/8669047910310996429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/8669047910310996429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/02/bertachel.html' title='Bertachel'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-6077393814886036625</id><published>2007-01-30T15:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T15:25:23.996-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BAM!</title><content type='html'>I am listening to "Moonlight In Vermont" by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, and is it me, or do these musicians not mesh well together? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the menthol-cool stylings of Ella for instance - she's singing beautifully about moonlight in Vermont, voice smoother than silk... putting me at ease.  Then BAM!  Armstrong explodes into the soft setting and takes away the charm and velvety goodness of the music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a random thought I thought I'd share with everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-6077393814886036625?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/6077393814886036625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=6077393814886036625&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/6077393814886036625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/6077393814886036625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/bam.html' title='BAM!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-3295250623848317442</id><published>2007-01-26T09:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T10:57:31.809-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shuffle</title><content type='html'>I put my iPod on shuffle just now, and I decided to write about the first 5 songs that it pulls up, and talk about one memory I have about that song... so here it goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. "Tired And Lonely" from Way Markings (songs adapted from Dag Hammerskjold's diary) - Sung by The Choir of Christ Chapel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, this makes me laugh so hard because out of 1,582 songs, my iPod decides to bring this one up first. This is part one of four, I think, of a piece we sang my sophomore year in Chapel Choir. We all hated it by the end, mainly because our crazy director with the lazy eye was so into this piece. She would always go into detail about how Dag Hammerskjold was the U.N. Secretary General and was such a great man; and people found his diary after he died in a plane crash in the Congo and wrote his words into music. Most of all we hated it because we were forced to practice singing and saying the letters "K" and "S", and our director would make us go over, and over, and over practicing the correct amount of force and annunciation we used with words containing those letters. Oy vey. With words like, "melt water trickles down the rocks" and how his "fingers are numb and knees tremble" - this song would make anyone want to plug their ears... but man, it brings back some funny memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. "One Word" by Kelly Osbourne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Matt and I first heard this song at the Saloon. It was playing in the video bar, and I fell in love with it right away for some reason. When I finally downloaded it off iTunes, I noticed that there was some French being spoken in the background, but I could never really pick up on what they were saying because the music and Kelly's voice was too loud. Matt and I would pretend to know what they were saying in French and sing along, but it always just came out as whatever we wanted it to be with a heavy French accent. It is a good song, but it was one of those songs that I listened to again and again, so I got sick of it after a while. I haven't listened to it for quite some times... I forgot it is a fun song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. "Dream About You" by Keri Noble&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have any one memory about this song, other than my friend Missy gave me a copy of Keri Noble's CD that this song is on. It does make me think a lot about friends that I have lost touch with through the years. And for some reason it always made me think of my ex-girlfriend (yes, I said girlfriend. I was "straight" for about 23 years...) Robin. I always felt like I left that relationship in a bad way, and I always regretted how that all ended and wish I could have gone back and done things differently. We are still friends today, but rarely see each other. This song is kind of, ok VERY, sad. It makes you think a little!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. "Happy New Year B" from the original cast recording of "RENT"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I've never seen the stage production of "RENT", I did see the movie the day it came out. So my memory tied to this song is the movie. Matt and I went to see it in Eagan, and there were a large number of high schoolers and "Rent Heads". The high schoolers were all the theater kids and when the movie started they practically gave a standing ovation and I wanted to turn around and give them all a stern, adult talking-to, but decided not to. Anyway, this was the first time I had actually heard the whole sound track in one sitting. I hadn't heard all of the songs before either, and this was when I fell in love with the music from the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. "Estampie Natalis" sung by The Gustavus Choir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved this song. We sang it for Christmas in Christ Chapel my senior year when I was in G-Choir. It was a good song, and it was kind of different and fun. My favorite part was the end, because we had bells, a violin, and a tambourine that all went nuts at the end... plus we had to be very shrill and slide up from low to high, so we were practically screaming at the end. Good times. The tenors started this piece alone and I remember we had so much trouble getting off on the right foot with this song sometimes. After we had practiced it long enough and should have had it pitch perfect, we would still get it wrong sometimes and get that look from Dr. Aune... the one that looked like the flesh was about to melt off his face and he was going to come up and shake us to death. It's times like that when I miss singing in choir.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-3295250623848317442?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/3295250623848317442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=3295250623848317442&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3295250623848317442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3295250623848317442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/shuffle.html' title='Shuffle'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-2353871983178682372</id><published>2007-01-24T07:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T10:32:05.722-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WARNING: Explicit Photo Below</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eQ-2dsCSIaQ/RbdldoWfuyI/AAAAAAAAAAk/NRkMuAfXxSU/s1600-h/LeBachmannKiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5023595469077461794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eQ-2dsCSIaQ/RbdldoWfuyI/AAAAAAAAAAk/NRkMuAfXxSU/s320/LeBachmannKiss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Tout Va Bien's caption: The role of "horned-up, crazy groupie" was played by Minnesota Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann Tuesday night in the nation's capital.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tout Va Bien Associated Press&lt;br /&gt;WASHINGTON, D.C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drying her moistened loins after attending her first State of The Union address, Minnesota's homophobe, Michelle Bachmann, gets her rocks off and nearly collapsed after planting a wet one on President Bush Tuesday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After clamoring for not one, but TWO autographs from the President and doing some major ass-kissing, LeBachmann could not keep her hands off Mr. Bush. Face plastered with a smile and sporting her deranged, devil eyes, LeBachmann made it a point to keep looking in the President's direction like some poor neglected puppy until he noticed her at least 10 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questioned about her highly inappropriate kiss, LeBachmann had no comment for the Tout Va Bien Press; however, our inside source attending the President's speech overheard LeBachmann mentioning something about God telling her to kiss him, just as He told her to run for Congress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We here at TVB can only assume that LeBachmann is concocting a plan to break-up the President's marriage to Laura Bush by performing romantic/sexual acts on the President in public. TVB experts and analysts predict her next move on Mr. Bush to be a public act of the "oral" nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon touching the President's shoulder one last time as he exited the House of Representatives, LeBachmann creamed herself and fainted again. There has been no update on her current condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reaction by the public about the kiss has been unanimous - when shown the photo above and asked about whether or not the kiss was appropriate, 100% of those polled began violently vomiting and were unable to answer our question.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-2353871983178682372?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/2353871983178682372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=2353871983178682372&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/2353871983178682372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/2353871983178682372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/warning-explicit-photo-below.html' title='WARNING: Explicit Photo Below'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eQ-2dsCSIaQ/RbdldoWfuyI/AAAAAAAAAAk/NRkMuAfXxSU/s72-c/LeBachmannKiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-5580790725356779966</id><published>2007-01-17T10:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T11:28:43.095-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Minne-hopeless"</title><content type='html'>Is it me, or did the American Idol auditions in Minneapolis suck?  Randy Jackson called us "Minne-hopeless".  After one singer, Simon Cowell said that his horrid performance pretty much summed up the Minnesota auditions: useless at everything.  Ryan "I'm Gay But Too Scared To Come Out" Seacrest even called our region the "Midworst".  One would think that out of 10,000 auditionees that they would put many people through to Hollywood, but no - a measley 17 people advanced.  Sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know they mostly pick the bad singers to be on TV for ratings and whatnot, but here is a sampling of some of the characters they aired last night, making Minnesota look like a bunch of bumbling morons... I promise we aren't as stupid as they made us look!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  The show started off with the girl who absolutely LOVES Jewel (who, by the way, made a lovely addition to the judging panel last night!  She made ugly Paula look like a pile of puke!)... dresses like Jewel, tried to sing like Jewel, and sort of looked like her too if Jewel were younger and had over-processed hair and beaten with an ugly stick.  After collapsing to the floor practically begging to be let through to Hollywood for about 10 minutes, they finally kicked her out and moved on to the next disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  The weird girl who sang the Cowardly Lion song from "The Wizard of Oz", LIKE the Cowardly Lion sang it.  All I can say is, ODD.  At first I didn't realize that was her actual audition piece, until she finished and smiled at the judges... I thought she was singing like that as a joke.  Apparently not.  And the special poster she made to go along with it?  It looked like a kindergartener's art project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  The girl who sang "Kiss" by Prince.  Was there really a highlight to this performance?  I don't think so, considering she forgot the lyrics THREE WORDS INTO THE SONG.  Then she just kind of held her hand up to her ear like she had headphones on and barely sang.  It was one of those moments where you're embarassed for the fool on TV.  I had to turn away, it was too sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Jason Anderson from my hometown of Burnsville was by far the best worst audition of the night.  He sang (horribly) while twirling his juggling sticks.  His juggling sticks were the ones you see at the Rennaissance Festival... that wretched nerd fest out in the boonies.  After they told him no, the judges got him to juggle some more, and even dance!  It was so pathetic, and made me embarassed for Burnsville.  Oy vey.  I'm telling you, it was like a bad car accident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my little sister after that mess and she knows the juggling bear.  He goes to her high school, and though she isn't friends with him, she said that she thinks he is one of the theater kids - oh boy!  And then she said, "He'll probably get pushed down the stairs tomorrow."  I cannot even begin to imagine how badly the other students are going to make fun of this poor kid today.  He made an ass of himself on national television and then proceeded to curse and cry in the most dramatic fashion on his mother's shoulder in the lobby!  He committed social suicide by auditioning.  I wonder if he had any idea that his audition was going to be broadcast to the world?  I can't wait to talk to my sister and see what happened to him at school today.  Is that bad of me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-5580790725356779966?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/5580790725356779966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=5580790725356779966&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/5580790725356779966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/5580790725356779966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/minne-hopeless.html' title='&quot;Minne-hopeless&quot;'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-5660511461646297820</id><published>2007-01-16T14:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T15:33:51.199-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Co-workers = Gross</title><content type='html'>1. The Nail Clipper - Since when is it appropriate to clip one's nails at work?  I have serveral co-workers who clip their nails at work, and I find it utterly repulsive.  Not that my co-workers are the classiest bunch, but still - it's disgusting.  I hear that clipping noise and it makes me want to walk over to them and shove the clippings up their nose (while wearing rubber gloves, mind you).  I am deathly afraid that someday a clipping will take flight and find its way into my coffee or my hair.  Just the thought of it makes me want to vomit a little in my mouth.  My friend, Dena, in Chicagoland regales me with stories of her co-worker, Arthur, who clips his nails almost daily with scissors.  No matter how many times she throws his scissors away, he manages to find another pair and clip away.  So apparently it is a universal thing and not just limited to Transport America.  If they continue clipping at work, I think I'll start peeing in the middle of the row I sit in.  Yes, that might be just as bad as clipping.  I'll whip out my who-who-dilly, start spinning around real fast, and pee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The Walking Air Freshener - Strong perfume... whew!  I have a co-worker who, I believe, dips herself in lilac perfume every morning.  It is so over-powering that my eyes start to water the instant I sit down at my desk in the morning.  The smell evetually wears off around 2pm, but those first 7 hours are complete torture.  The smell eventually gets to be a cross between a lilac, the Como Zoo Conservatory, and an ash tray.  I'm pretty sure there is something about wearing strong perfume in our employee rule book.  I'll have to investigate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The Incubus of Viral and Bacterial Plague - Co-workers who don't wash their hands... I cannot tell you how ill this makes me.  It freaks me out more than #1 on this list.  These people really make me want to wear a biohazard suit to work every day.  You know who I am talking about!  You're in the bathroom minding your P's and Q's and you hear/see the co-worker walk away from the urinal or stall, and walk right on out the door!  At that point I freeze, start to panic a little inside, and hyperventilate.  I feel so dirty that I must stand at the sink and practically scrub my hands raw, dry my hands with four paper towels, and then use those paper towels to grab the door handle and walk out.  Just writing this gives me the heebie jeebies.  And if I see who the culprit is, I have a hard time communicating or making eye contact with them the rest of the day knowing what they've done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe the Transportation Industry harbors many of these types of people listed above.  They are a weird, crude, rude, and GROSS bunch of people sometimes.  Not everyone here is weird, crude, rude, and gross... but that group of normal people has a far smaller population.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-5660511461646297820?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/5660511461646297820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=5660511461646297820&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/5660511461646297820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/5660511461646297820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/co-workers-gross.html' title='Co-workers = Gross'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-5084764063417587070</id><published>2007-01-11T13:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T15:00:02.974-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oui, oui, le resistance!</title><content type='html'>I saw protesters today! Alive and kicking protesters!!! I couldn't believe it! And here in Eagan... home of our Republican governor! I thought, &lt;em&gt;how French&lt;/em&gt;! Protesting is like a national sport in France and ranks right behind soccer. Oh la la!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were protesting the proposal of sending 21,500 more troops over to Iraq. I was so proud of my little Minnesotans! I thought one of them was standing at the off ramp on 35E, but after getting closer and reading the man's sign, I realized he was just a drifter looking to work for food or something. The light was green so I didn't stop to throw some change at him, but like I would have actually done that had the light been red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't watch the President's speech, but I certainly read about it in the New York Times and Washington Post. It's amazing how many people are not pleased with the troop surge as well as extending current soldiers' tour of duty. Not only the protesters I saw today, but also our governor Timmy and many other Republicans serving in our nation's capital don't approve of the new plan. Personally I think Bush-whacker's admittance to not sending more troops initially and pretty much admitting we are losing is way over due and it comes too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"... Senator Chuck Hagel, Republican of Nebraska, said the president’s policy was “very, very dangerous." DUH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when he was speaking to Condoleeza Rice: "Matter of fact, I have to say, Madame Secretary, that I think this speech given last night by this president represents the most dangerous policy blunder in this country since Vietnam, if it’s carried out,” said Mr. Hagel, who was seriously wounded in Vietnam. “I will resist it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oy vey. This is enough to make my head spin. I was reading the Star Tribune online this morning and they interviewed the family of a friend of a friend as they were watching the President's speech last night. Their son, Ryan, is fighting in Iraq leading special convoys. He was supposed to go to Iraq and serve as a medic, but was assigned to lead convoys due to his knack for spotting roadside bombs. Scary. He was supposed to come home in March from his year long tour of duty, but now his tour has been extended for an unknown period of time. I have met Ryan's twin brother, Eric, a few times over the years, and Eric is getting married in the fall, and there is a good chance that his best man and brother won't be home for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said before that I didn't watch the speech, and that was due to the fact that A.) I didn't really want to since most news stations already gave a run down of what he was going to talk about; and B.) I was watching the movie "Steel Magnolias" instead. I love that movie. Makes me cry every time! Plus I'd much rather watch a sappy dramedy about six southern belles, who at one point describe their gay-dar as any man named Nick, Steve, or Randy who has track lighting installed in their house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-5084764063417587070?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/5084764063417587070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=5084764063417587070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/5084764063417587070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/5084764063417587070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/oui-oui-le-resistance.html' title='Oui, oui, le resistance!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-3792823318710173179</id><published>2007-01-11T13:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T13:25:45.692-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gassy</title><content type='html'>I just got gas for $1.95 per gallon.  I haven't seen gas prices that low in who knows how long.  I filled up for a mere $25!  I couldn't believe it!  What a wonderful day for gas prices.  Let's hope they continue to get lower.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-3792823318710173179?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/3792823318710173179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=3792823318710173179&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3792823318710173179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3792823318710173179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/gassy.html' title='Gassy'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-173265054555248964</id><published>2007-01-08T09:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T09:48:38.775-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Has this ever happened to you?</title><content type='html'>1.) You know when you are standing in a large retail chain – like, I dunno, Target, we’ll say – looking at knives with your best friend, and a middle aged woman behind you rips off the biggest fart you have ever heard?  No?  You’ve never experienced that same situation before?  Well, it happened to Rachel and I this weekend at the Target in Roseville. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you notice that it seems to fall dead silent at the exact moment you hear a fart, burp, or someone briefly talking loudly about the topics of sex or genitals in public?  It seems like all of a sudden that is the one and only thing you hear in the entire world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel and I heard this woman fart, and I’m pretty sure it scared the culprit more than it did us.  We immediately had to halt all discussions about which santoku knife that Rachel should buy, and run two aisles down and begin laughing hysterically for 10 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sure the woman was mortified, but it provided unlimited entertainment for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) You know when you’re in Banana Republic and you see four young kids sitting on the floor around an ottoman and they’re making their pieces of candy have sex with each other?  No?  Haven’t been in that situation either?  Again… happened to Rachel and I this weekend too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banana Republic is usually a fairly quiet store except for the music playing overhead, so naturally the first thing we hear when we walk in are moaning and other sexual sounds.  We walk further towards the back of the store and we see four small kids sitting on the floor banging pieces of M&amp;M’s together (kind of like when you made Ken and Barbie kiss each other when you were a kid… basically smashing their faces together) while making sex noises and giggling.  And no, this wasn’t my interpretation of the situation, it is definitely what they were imitating.  I heard one of them say, “now make these ones “do it” together!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  Kids these days!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-173265054555248964?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/173265054555248964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=173265054555248964&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/173265054555248964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/173265054555248964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/has-this-ever-happened-to-you.html' title='Has this ever happened to you?'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-3371090707259712048</id><published>2007-01-04T13:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T13:51:32.337-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Annie, Annie!  Are you ok?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eQ-2dsCSIaQ/RZ1ag9wDVUI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Q5iLtsy9SFU/s1600-h/GenImage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5016265082339022146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eQ-2dsCSIaQ/RZ1ag9wDVUI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Q5iLtsy9SFU/s320/GenImage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie, Annie!!!  &lt;a href="http://today.reuters.com/news/articlenews.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&amp;amp;storyid=2007-01-04T171703Z_01_SP134430_RTRUKOC_0_US-KOREA-BABIES-ROBOT.xml"&gt;You're in labor!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-3371090707259712048?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/3371090707259712048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=3371090707259712048&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3371090707259712048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3371090707259712048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/annie-annie-are-you-ok.html' title='Annie, Annie!  Are you ok?!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eQ-2dsCSIaQ/RZ1ag9wDVUI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Q5iLtsy9SFU/s72-c/GenImage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-4858253055768638074</id><published>2007-01-04T11:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T11:17:13.334-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fashion where you least expect it...</title><content type='html'>LOL:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are talking full shrubs here, not mangy soul patches, the kind of beards that gay bears once seemed to be the only ones to flaunt (the better to attract each other at bars and roundups like the annual Bearapalooza or the Furball in Canada). "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/04/fashion/04fashion.html?ex=157680000&amp;en=69c281f1fd3966ed&amp;amp;ei=5124&amp;partner=permalink&amp;amp;exprod=permalink"&gt;Go here to read the full article.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-4858253055768638074?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/4858253055768638074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=4858253055768638074&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/4858253055768638074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/4858253055768638074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/fashion-where-you-least-expect-it.html' title='Fashion where you least expect it...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-744037866021912664</id><published>2007-01-04T10:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T10:13:56.105-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I carry your heart with me</title><content type='html'>i carry your heart with me (i carry it inmy heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root, and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ e.e. cummings&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-744037866021912664?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/744037866021912664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=744037866021912664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/744037866021912664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/744037866021912664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-carry-your-heart-with-me.html' title='I carry your heart with me'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-7815168668441296378</id><published>2007-01-03T11:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T13:11:14.527-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello 2007</title><content type='html'>I have successfully started on one of my resolutions for this year - working out. *Applause, Applause, Courtsey, Blow Kisses* I did the elliptical machine yesterday afternoon for 15 minutes without stopping... I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;! Great, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was managing a pretty consistent pace for the first 8 minutes, but then I felt like I was dying and I could really feel the burn in my chest. They say that burning sensation is an indicator that the exercise is working and you're burning fat, but I am &lt;em&gt;pretty&lt;/em&gt; sure the burning isn't supposed to be happening in your chest AND it was only my first time exercising in who knows how long, so I'm sure I wasn't supposed to be experiencing that. My eyes were also burning but that is because I was sweating so much and it was getting in my eyes (plus I could see my reflection in the window, tummy jiggling and all which I am sure contributed to the burning). I'm sure I looked like a big old mess afterward, but I didn't care... I am on my way to getting in shape!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that finished, I did a little stretching and some abdominal work back in the apartment. I really think I will be able to stick with exercising. I shall always keep a mental image of an Abercrombie model in my head and hope that some day I can look like that. Yes, I shouldn't be so focused on how my body looks, but it'll help me keep motivated to lose a little weight so my family will stop rubbing my stomach every time they see me and saying "Buddah Belly".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-7815168668441296378?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/7815168668441296378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=7815168668441296378&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/7815168668441296378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/7815168668441296378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2007/01/hello-2007.html' title='Hello 2007'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-958561779713671682</id><published>2006-12-29T14:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T14:24:20.091-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Verbatim</title><content type='html'>"It would be like a ghetto NASCAR."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mistah F.A.B.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I don't think the &lt;a href="http://www.startribune.com/484/story/904920.html"&gt;event&lt;/a&gt; this quote is associated with would be the smartest thing to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-958561779713671682?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/958561779713671682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=958561779713671682&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/958561779713671682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/958561779713671682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/verbatim.html' title='Verbatim'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-3033814560938422131</id><published>2006-12-29T10:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T11:07:37.611-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions</title><content type='html'>I was trying to think of a New Years resolution that I could make (and actually follow through with) this year.  So, I have managed to come up with some pretty sensible ones:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Start a 401K.  I know, I know.  I don't have one yet, let the lectures begin.  In all honesty, I haven't had the extra funds each paycheck to contribute to one, so maybe I can manage to put like $20 in each month.  It's a start, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Open a savings account.  No lectures on this either!  I used to have one but closed it out and used the money to buy my first car... haven't had the funds to start one since then.  My bank requires I need at least $300 in there at all times (or else they charge me $5 a day), so that is what is holding me back at the moment.  But when I get my tax returns back, a large majority of that money will be used to open a savings account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Lose some weight.  This is pretty generic, but my metabolism has slowed way down since college and I'd like to shed some of my tummy pudge and maybe even get my abs to show.  I know they are buried deep in there somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. "Harsher punishment for parole violators, Stan................ and world peace!"  Ok, so this one was a joke, but 10 points to whoever can name the movie this is from!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-3033814560938422131?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/3033814560938422131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=3033814560938422131&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3033814560938422131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/3033814560938422131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116679467220005872</id><published>2006-12-22T07:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T07:46:59.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Blog!</title><content type='html'>I am a horrible Dad to my blog... I frequently neglect it, forget to feed it, and miss its school plays... and apparently I almost forget when its birthday is... BUT luckily, I remembered before it was too late!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So - &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLOG!  You officially turn 1 today!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank God I remembered or else someone might have called social services on my ass.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'd also like to send out a big &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;C&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;HANNUKAH&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;K&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Z&lt;/span&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (however you spell it) to everyone!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116679467220005872?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116679467220005872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116679467220005872&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116679467220005872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116679467220005872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/happy-birthday-blog.html' title='Happy Birthday, Blog!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116640375138472047</id><published>2006-12-17T19:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T19:14:58.023-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I will try to fix you</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://youtube.com/v/2u6k-99qcCE" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a rendition of Coldplay's "Fix You" as sung by the Young at Heart chorus. I found this video on &lt;a href="http://www.scott-o-rama.com/"&gt;Scott's&lt;/a&gt; blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The YouTube video description says this clip is "from a documentary shown on Channel 4 in the UK called &lt;a href="http://www.youngatheartchorus.com/"&gt;Young at Heart&lt;/a&gt;, the name of the New England octogenarian chorus line. The performer here is Fred Mittle, who suffers from congestive heart failure. This song was intended to be a duet between Fred and another chorus member, Bob Salvini. Sadly, Bob died of a heart attack and it was left to Fred to carry the song on his own."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this was an amazing and moving video. It really adds emotional weight to an already intensely powerful song when it is placed in this sort of context. It makes you take a step back and realize how much you wish you could try to fix certain problems plaguing the ones you love - whether health or emotional.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116640375138472047?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116640375138472047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116640375138472047&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116640375138472047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116640375138472047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-will-try-to-fix-you.html' title='I will try to fix you'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116587337450350284</id><published>2006-12-11T15:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T15:42:54.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I's lerned lotz at skool</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/go_fug_yourself/2006/12/confessions_of_.html"&gt;This is the most hilarious post I have read in a long time.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking of starting an organization a la P.E.T.A. because of this subject... except call it something like "People for the Ethical Treatment of Audiences: Dedicated to eliminating the exposure of idiotic celebrity ramblings to audiences nationwide".  It's like the really dumb popular girl in high school trying to validate herself with something that is CLEARLY not meant to even get a "Check Plus" in a first grade spelling test.  The sad thing is - a first grader could probably write something far more cohesive and intellectual than Ms. Lohan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116587337450350284?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116587337450350284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116587337450350284&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116587337450350284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116587337450350284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/is-lerned-lotz-at-skool.html' title='I&apos;s lerned lotz at skool'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116541783695370122</id><published>2006-12-06T08:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T11:56:49.470-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Way to go, Lance!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://hosted.ap.org/photos/5/56163d80-b689-4926-b266-efaf9c1e4aa5-big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://hosted.ap.org/photos/5/56163d80-b689-4926-b266-efaf9c1e4aa5-big.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another celebrity power couple has taken a trip to Splitsville. Oh, wait, did I say power couple? I meant Lance finally kicked Reichen to the curb... probably after he realized that the Third Reich was just using him to advance his own career and "celebrity status", if he even ever had a celebrity status after all the buzz about winning the Amazing Race died down. Well, unless you consider Reich's ground-breaking performance as the bartender at Chez Rouge on Days of Our Lives a big status booster, then whatever. He didn't even have any lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lance needs the freedom to play the field... be a manwhore! He did just come out after all, and the Third Reich was his first relationship... so he needs to experience what this gay world has to offer. It's Lance Bass for Pete's sake! He could get anyone he wants at this point. He is no longer viewed as the awkward looking former N'Sync-er with a fat face who is probably gay. He is now viewed as the aesthetically pleasing, slimmed down in the facial region, hot-to-trot millionaire and former N'Sync-er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, you go boy! Way to get rid of Reichen! That relationship made me more uncomforatble than seeing Britney's cooter as she was getting out of Paris's car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116541783695370122?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116541783695370122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116541783695370122&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116541783695370122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116541783695370122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/way-to-go-lance.html' title='Way to go, Lance!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116534826702899312</id><published>2006-12-05T13:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T08:20:08.113-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sicky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7697/2002/1600/970974/Sick%20Luke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7697/2002/200/374316/Sick%20Luke.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Doesn't this make you a little sad? It makes me a little sad. My poor nephew is sick and this is the picture my sister sent me on my phone... I just want to hug the little guy! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116534826702899312?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116534826702899312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116534826702899312&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116534826702899312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116534826702899312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/sicky.html' title='Sicky'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116524401512965396</id><published>2006-12-04T08:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T08:53:35.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Muscled McPiercedpenis would have been better...</title><content type='html'>Chad:  What's your name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buff Stripper w/ 13 piercings: Diesel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chad:  Of course it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Brass Rail - Saturday night - Chad's 35th birthday outing.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116524401512965396?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116524401512965396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116524401512965396&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116524401512965396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116524401512965396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/12/muscled-mcpiercedpenis-would-have-been.html' title='Muscled McPiercedpenis would have been better...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116438294004154278</id><published>2006-11-24T09:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-24T09:42:20.073-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bobby K</title><content type='html'>I went and saw "Bobby" last night.  It was a pretty good movie, with an incredibly intense ending that left somewhat of an impact on me.  During the last few moments of the film, the audio from a speech Robert F. Kennedy gave was played.  I found it to be a very intriguing speech, and from time to time I think we need to be reminded of the great Americans of the past who spoke words of deep passion and relevance - - especially when my 18 year old niece leans over to me and asks who the movie is about and if "that guy" dies or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robert F. Kennedy on the Mindless Menace of Violence, April 5, 1968:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lost their cause and pay the costs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116438294004154278?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116438294004154278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116438294004154278&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116438294004154278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116438294004154278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/bobby-k.html' title='Bobby K'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116413003032356713</id><published>2006-11-21T11:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:27:10.336-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Let us be glad...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; Let us be grateful!&lt;br /&gt;Let us rejoicify that goodness could subdue&lt;br /&gt;The wicked workings of you-know-who...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17 Days until... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v518/Godslittlespunk/wicked_poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;And Chicago!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Who's excited?!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116413003032356713?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116413003032356713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116413003032356713&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116413003032356713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116413003032356713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/let-us-be-glad.html' title='Let us be glad...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116319612817680609</id><published>2006-11-10T15:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T16:02:08.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crayon High Society</title><content type='html'>I went to Target last night to buy my 2 year old nephew a birthday present.  I decided to get him some markers and crayons since he LOVES to color.  He'll make you sit down next to him, patting the chair, gesturing for you to sit down next to him and color along side him - and he does not let you get up until he says you're done coloring.  He can be quite the authoritative little bugger sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was standing in the crayon aisle of Target, I was overwhelmed with the different amounts and colors of crayons you can get nowadays.  Mauvelous, Macaroni and Cheese, Mango Tango, Inch Worm.  These are just a few of the colors they have now.  They even have a 150 count crayon package with all of their colors neatly arranged in a round plastic tote that spins around for your convenience while selecting a color. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the time when your elementary school status depended on the amount of crayons you had.  The hot commodity was the coveted 64 count box of Crayola's WITH the built in crayon sharpener in the back of the box.  You would have to keep a pretty close eye on who was borrowing your crayons and practically obtain collateral from your peers until they gave your crayon back, lest you don't get that crayon back or they try and fool you by giving you the wrong color back.  Your Crayola's could make you or break you back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided on a happy medium for my nephew's present - I got him the 96 count box of Crayola's WITH the crayon sharpener in the back.  I figured this should be enough crayons to last him a while until he eats them all like any other normal kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  And I'm sure everyone remembers the episode of Mr. Rogers when he tours the Crayola factory and showed us how crayons were made.  That was such a sweet episode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116319612817680609?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116319612817680609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116319612817680609&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116319612817680609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116319612817680609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/crayon-high-society.html' title='Crayon High Society'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116301346815981938</id><published>2006-11-08T13:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T13:17:48.173-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rummy, Out!</title><content type='html'>Finally, after 6 years &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/08/us/politics/09BUSHCND.html?hp&amp;ex=1163048400&amp;amp;en=90b2a0d9c77157ea&amp;ei=5094&amp;amp;partner=homepage"&gt;he's gone&lt;/a&gt;... finito... auf wiedersehen... au revoir... don't let the door hit your butt on the way out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116301346815981938?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116301346815981938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116301346815981938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116301346815981938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116301346815981938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/rummy-out.html' title='Rummy, Out!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116300909405126656</id><published>2006-11-08T11:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T13:55:10.050-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Good Day</title><content type='html'>It is certainly turning out to be a productive day in my book. I am man - hear me roar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I applied for a job with the Minnesota Senate Counsel today, which makes that the 5th job I've applied for in general over the last week and a half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I called my bank about a discrepancy on my account. The not-so-intelligent/let's-take-an-hour-and-a-half-to-serve-the-food restaurant in Wisconsin I ate at on Sunday over charged my check card by $25.54! Now that is a lot of money for poor folk like myself... luckily Beverly at US Bank saw that and didn't let it post to my account. Thanks Bev! You're a real peach!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now. Maybe the productivity will continue through the afternoon if I'm lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116300909405126656?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116300909405126656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116300909405126656&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116300909405126656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116300909405126656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/good-day.html' title='A Good Day'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116299376939438244</id><published>2006-11-08T07:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T07:49:29.413-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This just in...</title><content type='html'>Sadly, the gay hating, &lt;a href="http://www.startribune.com/563/story/761739.html"&gt;submissive wife&lt;/a&gt; from he 7th layer of hell won.  Did anyone see her &lt;a href="http://www.startribune.com/10134/story/786534-a795547-t3.html"&gt;hair&lt;/a&gt;?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116299376939438244?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116299376939438244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116299376939438244&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116299376939438244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116299376939438244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/this-just-in.html' title='This just in...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116292872719764579</id><published>2006-11-07T13:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T13:46:28.866-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Did you?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www1.umn.edu/umnnews/img/assets/4243/I-Voted.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 144px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 139px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="148" alt="" src="http://www1.umn.edu/umnnews/img/assets/4243/I-Voted.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116292872719764579?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116292872719764579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116292872719764579&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116292872719764579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116292872719764579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/did-you.html' title='Did you?'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116283451529424475</id><published>2006-11-06T11:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T11:35:15.503-06:00</updated><title type='text'>News Flash</title><content type='html'>Do any of you out there in Blogger Land remember the good old days of PBS children's programming? If I could, I would watch Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers still. I used to watch those shows well into college when I would be home "sick", and nowadays with all the insanity of the relentless political ads on TV, it's enough to make you miss "News Flash with Kermit The Frog".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.wikia.com/muppet/images/f/f8/SSNews.divorcedbird.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I always felt so much better after watching these shows. "News Flash" was always one of my favorite Sesame Street skits. The little morse code noise urgently beeping, "Kermit Theee Frog here" interviewing Peter Piper about his pickles, Sleeping Beauty, and my personal favorite, Don Music:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.wikia.com/muppet/images/5/57/Rowrowyourboat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I used to laugh my head off every time he would bang his head on the piano keys because he couldn't think of the right words for his song he was composing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So friends, let's take a few moments to remember those good ol' days of PBS when we didn't care about politics and only cared about whether or not Snuffalupagus would be making an appearance on Sesame Street.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116283451529424475?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116283451529424475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116283451529424475&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116283451529424475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116283451529424475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/news-flash.html' title='News Flash'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116283013427726610</id><published>2006-11-06T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T11:02:02.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Vote For Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://youtube.com/v/gJDFsUgbc_8" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is such a great commercial. Don't forget to vote tomorrow for your local Dems!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116283013427726610?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116283013427726610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116283013427726610&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116283013427726610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116283013427726610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/vote-for-change.html' title='Vote For Change'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116258898786723939</id><published>2006-11-03T15:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T15:24:49.226-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Must Mode</title><content type='html'>I was watching my regular Thursday night programming - &lt;a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/uglybetty/about.html"&gt;Ugly Betty&lt;/a&gt; - last night, and they were putting together ideas for the annual “Must Mode” list for their January publication; it is a list of the must have items or must do things for 2007. I decided to make my own list of things I must have / do / can’t live without…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. A fabulous pair of &lt;a href="http://www.puma.com/pindex.jsp"&gt;Puma’s&lt;/a&gt;. I really think that my footwear collection (all 5 pairs of shoes I own) MUST include a fabulous pair of Puma’s. My first pair of Puma’s I bought was in 7th grade and I thought I was da bomb. They were your traditional blue suede shoes with the signature white stripe along the sides. They were the biggest shoes in the world, but I loved them to death. I went without a pair of Puma’s for many years until I did my study abroad in Paris, where everyone and their dog had a pair on their feet. I succumbed to pressure and bought another pair of blue and white Puma’s, but these were the hip and trendy Euro shoes that hadn’t made it to the States yet. I have owned a pair of sleek and trendy Euro Puma’s ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="www.bumbleandbumble.com"&gt;Bumble &amp;amp; Bumble&lt;/a&gt; hair products: Made in New York City, these hair products are probably the best I have ever used. Not overly potent, great hold, and creatively designed packaging, make these products a must have for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://www.chapstick.com/moisturizer/index.asp"&gt;Chapstick Lip Moisturizer&lt;/a&gt;: The BEST Chapstick on the face of the PLANET. If it were a real person, I think I’d marry it and produce millions of little Chapsticks. It’s practically one with my body… my lips ar so silky and soft because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;a href="www.apple.com"&gt;iTunes/iPod&lt;/a&gt;: This is really a no brainer. Everyone loves this and I really don’t know what I’d do without it. Always a must have for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Something between my knees when I’m sleeping: And no I’m not talking about a man… I’m not that much of a skeeze. If my knees are touching, I have the hardest time getting comfy. So whether it’s a pillow, comforter, Matt’s leg, whatever – I need something between my knees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Chamomile tea with lemon and honey: I used to drink this when I had a sore throat and sometimes I would drink it a little while before a choir concert… it always makes me feel better inside and helps soothe my throat. I haven’t had it for a while, but I am going to rekindle that obsession now that I have a cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;a href="http://www.paris-france.org/en/"&gt;PARIS&lt;/a&gt;: France, not the Hilton. It is my goal to make it back to Paris at some point next year. If you ever find yourself in Paris, again FRANCE not the Hilton, it is a MUST to go to this quaint little bakery where the workers dress in what appears to be Chanel (it is Paris after all…) on Rue Daguerre. It was near the Denfert Rochereau metro stop and they made the BEST chasse-aux-pommes. Apple filled pastries that were like heaven on earth. Also, there is a Vietnamese restaurant at 178 Rue Daguerre right across the street from my school that makes the best Pho Soup… to die for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. An Ella Fitzgerald CD: Any CD of hers will do, really. Her sexy, sultry voice makes anything feel a million times classier. I still love her renditions of any Christmas song, and I love her Moonlight in Vermont.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. &lt;a href="http://www.ci.chi.il.us/city/webportal/home.do"&gt;Chicago&lt;/a&gt;: What in this city wouldn’t make it on a MUST list? I didn’t get out there but once this year, and that was a bad experience, so it is a goal of mine to visit again. From the Magnificent Mile to Boystown to Oprah, you need to get there if you have never been. And while you’re there – at the very least, get some caramel corn from Garret’s on Michigan Avenue, have lunch at the Signature Room atop the Hancock Tower, and catch a Cub’s game at Wrigley Field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Take a road trip with a loved one: Talk about a great way to get to know someone or to see if you’re compatible. And a perfect road trip would be to #9! Nothing says “Let’s see how long we can tolerate each other” better than cramming you and a lover or family member in a car with luggage and hundreds of miles of road ahead. I haven’t heard enough road tripping stories this year and I think they need to make a come back. Maybe Matt and I will take a road trip sometime… and hopefully live to tell about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116258898786723939?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116258898786723939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116258898786723939&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116258898786723939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116258898786723939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/must-mode.html' title='Must Mode'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116249084313888034</id><published>2006-11-02T11:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T12:07:58.393-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Secret Lover</title><content type='html'>I love Nyquil... it's fast and easy. I took a cap-full last night and was out like a light until the alarm went off this morning. The one down side to taking Nyquil is that it tastes like ass crack (a.k.a. black licorice) and it's effects last far longer than the regular 8 hour sleep schedule. I didn't think I was going to make it to work this morning because I was pretty much passing out and struggling to keep my eyes open. I am better now, but man - they should tell you not to drive or operate machinery until you know the effect it will have on you. On Tuesday night I barely slept at all and my throat was so sore the next day that I was 2 octaves lower than where I normally am; so to avoid a repeat sleepless night, I took some Nyquil and it is my secret lover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have a cold, by the way... I'm not taking it for fun... however... ;o)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116249084313888034?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116249084313888034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116249084313888034&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116249084313888034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116249084313888034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-secret-lover.html' title='My Secret Lover'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116232986833270731</id><published>2006-10-31T15:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T15:24:28.390-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween, Kiddies!</title><content type='html'>And now for a Halloween treat - something truly heinous and much scarier than accidentally stumbling upon your parent's S&amp;M dungeon while it's being rented out and used by your grandparents:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/images/215587/1_21_bachmann_michele.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.foxnews.com/images/215587/1_21_bachmann_michele.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And I shall be crowned the Queen of the Damned!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;HAPPY HALLOWEEN!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116232986833270731?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116232986833270731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116232986833270731&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116232986833270731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116232986833270731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/10/happy-halloween-kiddies.html' title='Happy Halloween, Kiddies!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116187670497229107</id><published>2006-10-26T09:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T09:31:45.166-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In the waiting line...</title><content type='html'>I am on the phone right now at work on hold with Dillon's trying to schedule a delivery appointment.  After having been on hold for 5 minutes, I decided to turn on the timer function on my phone, and at this moment it is coming up on 9 minutes, which means I have been holding for close to 15 minutes once you factor in the first undocumented 5 minutes.  How ridiculous... how much time do you think we spend on hold in a lifetime?  At this point, I'm thinking its &lt;strong&gt;a lot&lt;/strong&gt; of time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  It's ringing!  I have reached a &lt;strong&gt;live&lt;/strong&gt; person at 15 minutes and 30 seconds... and the call &lt;strong&gt;finally&lt;/strong&gt; finished at 17 minutes and 30 seconds.  Wow!  And this, sadly, is pretty typical for these large chain stores. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was on hold with Wal-Mart (excuse me while I vomit) for &lt;strong&gt;35 minutes&lt;/strong&gt; of my life until I finally reached someone.  I tried desperately to bargain with Judy on the other end of the phone to get those 35 minutes of my life back, but she wouldn't budge.  I even tried the Wal-Mart tactic of "Rolling Back" and saying I'd settle for getting 30 minutes back, but she still didn't want to concede any "Roll Backs".  So I told her I'd roll her a punch in the nose... the call ended shortly after that.  Luckily I had already secured the delivery appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So just in those two calls alone, I have wasted a little over an hour of my life.  I don't even want to think about all those other calls I have made to the wretched Wal-Mart, Sam's Club, Dillon's, and other stores.  And I'd try to get revenge on the person and put them on hold for an equal amount of time, but I'm too scared that they would hang up, forcing me to call back and start my wait all over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, the turmoils of working for the man every night and day.  Big wheel keep on turnin'... Proud Robbie keep on burnin'... Rollin', rollin', rollin' on the river...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116187670497229107?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116187670497229107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116187670497229107&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116187670497229107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116187670497229107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/10/in-waiting-line.html' title='In the waiting line...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-116161462478439641</id><published>2006-10-23T08:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T08:43:44.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>News of the Stupid: Oh Crap</title><content type='html'>Those crazy frat boys... At what point do you think they thought, "Oh crap..."??? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Beer keg explosion in Connecticut kills 1, injures 7 partygoers&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associated Press&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last update: October 23, 2006 – 9:03 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onclick="window.open(this.href,'760058','width=620,toolbar=0,status=0,resizable=1,scrollbars=1');return false;" href="http://www.startribune.com/484/v-print/story/760058.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;NEW MILFORD, Conn. — Investigators were trying to determine who tossed a beer keg into a burning barrel at a party, causing a deadly explosion that sent metal shards slicing through a crowd of people.&lt;br /&gt;The explosion early Sunday killed Sean M. Caselli, 22, of New Milford. Seven other people were taken to hospitals with burns and shrapnel wounds, police said. Caselli was struck in the neck by a piece of flying metal.&lt;br /&gt;Sgt. Lee Grabner said investigators interviewed witnesses Sunday to try to identify the person witnesses say threw a quarter-keg of beer into the flames, and to determine whether criminal charges should be filed.&lt;br /&gt;Fires had been set in several barrels to keep people at the partygoers warm at the outdoors party in western Connecticut, said Police Captain Michael Mrazik.&lt;br /&gt;"This is a certain tragedy," said Police Chief Colin McCormack. "However, nothing I have been apprised of to this point in this investigation, which I caution is at the very early states, indicates a deliberate act on anyone's part."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-116161462478439641?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/116161462478439641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=116161462478439641&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116161462478439641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/116161462478439641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/10/news-of-stupid-oh-crap.html' title='News of the Stupid: Oh Crap'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115764567069713386</id><published>2006-09-07T09:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T10:14:30.856-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stars Are Blind... and drunk...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.actualite-de-stars.com/pics/bio/446.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.actualite-de-stars.com/pics/bio/446.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as much as I love Paris Hilton and her wacky antics on Simple Life (the first few seasons, that is... the 4th season sucks balls), I must say I laughed when I heard she got pulled over last night for a DUI. You'd think that with all the partying she does, that she would have been pulled over at least one other time, since apparently she drives sometimes and doesn't have a driver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to make this a little funnier, I was reading the little blurb on &lt;a href="http://www.kstp.com"&gt;kstp.com&lt;/a&gt; about this and she said that she had only had one margarita on an empty stomach and she was just so tired from work, so she was swerving on the road and got pulled over. Ok. What "work" does she do??? I wasn't aware that she had a job other than being rich for a living. If anyone can give me any insight on what Miss Paris does for a living then please tell me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115764567069713386?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115764567069713386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115764567069713386&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115764567069713386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115764567069713386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/09/stars-are-blind-and-drunk.html' title='Stars Are Blind... and drunk...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115764420686149386</id><published>2006-09-07T09:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T14:46:26.870-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I love this picture...</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.startribune.com/media/2006/09/01/14/01DEBATE.105_9O0G6.standalone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Amy Klobuchar: You look like a frickin' Backstreet Boy with that stupid headset on Mark. Dipwad. I'm going to totally cream you in this election. You don't stand a chance against my campaign's TV ads featuring my #1 human intrest bait/vote-getter - my big-earred "special" daughter giving two thumbs up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mark Kennedy: Shut up. I have my kids in my commercials too, plus I have this kickin' State Fair shack between the cheese curds stand and the pronto pup stand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;AK: Whatever, at least my booth looks homey and welcoming, and I was there everyday with Amy Klobuchar's daughter. And at least in my commercials I don't look like a stiff robot in another boring and predictable plaid accountant's shirt.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;MK: Shut up, hooch. Accountants are cool. I'm going to sit here and scowl at you now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;AK: Yeah, ok then. I'll be sure to send you a postcard from Washington, ass.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115764420686149386?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115764420686149386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115764420686149386&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115764420686149386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115764420686149386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-love-this-picture.html' title='I love this picture...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115625201217564089</id><published>2006-08-22T07:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T07:18:29.213-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm bringing Sexy Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed src="http://youtube.com/v/Fbs8a6LJYMo" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a video clip from "So You Think You Can Dance: Season 2".  It's the final four dancing to "Sexy Back", choreographed by Wade Robson.  It is one of the most fun/coolest/sexiest things I've seen in a long time.  I could watch it over and over and over... ENJOY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115625201217564089?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115625201217564089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115625201217564089&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115625201217564089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115625201217564089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-bringing-sexy-back.html' title='I&apos;m bringing Sexy Back'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115584654511308036</id><published>2006-08-17T14:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T14:29:05.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We caught him!  Yesssssss...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://members.aol.com/Wxpicturekare/menet0809.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://members.aol.com/Wxpicturekare/menet0809.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every gay Minnesotan guy's wish... that they could catch Sven... Matt and I did see him at Saloon a few weeks ago, but I didn't have my net on me.  Dammit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115584654511308036?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115584654511308036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115584654511308036&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115584654511308036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115584654511308036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/08/we-caught-him-yesssssss.html' title='We caught him!  Yesssssss...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115583370946303402</id><published>2006-08-17T09:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T13:54:52.600-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reality Round-Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;So You Think You Can Dance (henceforth known as SYTYCD) had their season finale last night, so if you haven't watched it yet and don't want to know who wins, READ NO FURTHER!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, now that that's done, I can say that I was kind of surprised to see that Benji won and not hottie potatie Travis; however, they are both phenomenal dancers and I absolutely loved their hip-hop "Nerd Dance"...&lt;br /&gt;                                               *Travis on top (I wish) &amp; Benji on bottom*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://z.about.com/d/realitytv/1/0/G/g/TravisWall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://z.about.com/d/realitytv/1/0/K/g/BenjiSchwimmer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, just look at how cute they are together! I want to take them home with me and keep them forever!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.timeinc.net/ew/dynamic/imgs/060816/235014__dance_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And the group performance last week to Sexy Back rocked my pants off, and I agree that Travis stole that performance... he had my attention the second he turned the corner and strutted down the stage... SIDEBAR: I'm upset that "Sexy Back" won't be available on iTunes until September 12th... I love that song and hope that they won't over play it on the radio so I get sick of it by the time I can buy it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly on the topic of SYTYCD, I was NOT PLEASED with how they abruptly got rid of Heidi and Donyelle after their solos... that was way harsh. They should have waited until the end to give them the boot. If I were those two, I don't know if I could have handled dancing the rest of the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on to Project Runway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The challenge last night took them to seedy Newark, New Jersey, America's Landfill and Arm Pit, to a recycling center where they had 30 minutes to collect recycled items to make an outfit of their choice. And in keeping with the show's normal theme, they had to be innovative and make the outfit in about 10 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fairly interesting challenge - making trash pretty. And not just any trash, but Newark, New Jersey's trash... a HUGE undertaking! I was thinking the only materials they would have to choose from would be crack pipes, dog feces, and used gym socks; but alas, I was wrong and they chose from various paper, plastic, and mylar remnants. Most of the designers did a good job, but then there were some who just didn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael won the challenge, and rightly so: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.bravotv.com/_content/images/eps306_Michael.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His presentation was gorgeous, and the execution was flawless. "Captain Save-A-Ho" is so going to make it to Fashion Week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allison was Auf'd for lame reasons: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.bravotv.com/_content/images/Eps306_Alison.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she was a little off this week! Who cares?! She has produced some of the most gorgeous pieces on that show, AND they have kept designers, like Kayne for example, because though he was a little off one week, they knew what he could do. Why not extend that same courtesy to Allison?! Get rid of Vincent! Who cares if he cashed in his 401K to do this show?! Go back to the insane asylum, Vinnie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura is also becoming quite the little frigid bitch! First she gets on Kayne's back about his "choices" regarding his pieces on the show, and then she digs into Vincent back stage after Allison gets the boot! Instead of consoling Allison and making her feel better, she's yelling at Vincent about how his dress didn't move and it basically sucked big donkey balls. It was quite the juicy drama! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's all she wrote for now! If and when I do another round-up post, it'll more than likely just be about Project Runway since that's the only reality show that's on right now that I watch...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115583370946303402?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115583370946303402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115583370946303402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115583370946303402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115583370946303402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/08/reality-round-up.html' title='Reality Round-Up'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115567371873682855</id><published>2006-08-15T14:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T14:28:38.746-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Accomplishments</title><content type='html'>I'm back from my long weekend.  It was very restful and I spent a majority of my time off getting the last of my things moved up to the apartment.  I can happily say that our apartment is finally in order and organized!  It feels really good to be able to say that after having lived in complete chaos the last two weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my biggest accomplishments of the long weekend was getting the laundry room organized.  It's so pretty in there now that I could just sit and stare at it for hours and revel in my fabulous organizational skills.  Most people would probably look at it and think, "Wow, he's a wee bit anal retentive...", but I don't care because I get my rocks off on doing that sort of stuff and the laundry room was by far one of the biggest challenges I had to tackle after moving in.  That and teaching Matthew how to fold towels the right way (i.e. MY way... hehehe), but we're still working on that one... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a completely different note, my second biggest accomplishment of the weekend was going to Valleyfair with Matt and walking around with my sister and 6 of her youth from her soon-to-be-former-church's youth group.  I decided I'm really too old and fragile to cram myself into one of the seats on the "Corkscrew" rollercoaster and survive a minute of sheer torture on one of the roughest rollercoaters in the midwest.  The antique cars are always a good time, even though I had to put all of my weight on the gas pedal just to get the car to move, while the 6 year old girl in the car ahead of mine was driving with the greatest of ease, having no issues pushing her gas pedal down.  That and spending $7.53 on a medium soda and a small fry, which I seriously think came with about ten fries, is a little ridiculous.  I still had fun, but my goodness, my body hurt at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So those were two of my biggest accomplishments from the long weekend.  I feel like I deserve a medal or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115567371873682855?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115567371873682855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115567371873682855&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115567371873682855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115567371873682855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/08/moving-accomplishments.html' title='Moving Accomplishments'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115522830082537944</id><published>2006-08-10T10:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T10:47:00.020-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dumber Than A Box of Rocks" Quote of the Week</title><content type='html'>I have found a new favorite website to visit every day: &lt;a href="http://www.overheardinminneapolis.com"&gt;www.overheardinminneapolis.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in lieu of my laziness at the moment to think of something to write, I'll just copy and paste this funny quote from OIM's post today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"Stay In School" Real Life Example #297&lt;br /&gt;Middle-aged office woman: So, when is your last day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Summer intern: I'm leaving in September to study abroad in Paris.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Middle-aged office woman: Paris, huh? In France?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Summer intern: That's the one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Middle-aged office woman: So what do they speak over there?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Summer intern: ...Really?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Middle-aged office woman: *silence as she, glassy-eyed, waits for an answer*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Summer intern: Portuguese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115522830082537944?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115522830082537944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115522830082537944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115522830082537944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115522830082537944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/08/dumber-than-box-of-rocks-quote-of-week.html' title='&quot;Dumber Than A Box of Rocks&quot; Quote of the Week'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115505436303015908</id><published>2006-08-08T10:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T10:26:03.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow, I suck!</title><content type='html'>So I know I said I'd post something everyday, buuuuuuuuuuuut, I suck and haven't had the time to actually fulfill that goal.  I promise that I have a really good excuse this time for not posting since last Monday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started moving all of my stuff up to St. Paul this last week.  I am now an official renter.  I was handed the keys to our (Matt and I) apartment on Saturday the 5th.  So ever since that happy day, I have been shuttling to and fro getting all of my little stuff that I can haul in the Jetta up to my new humble abode. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I know that doesn't explain my lack of posts between the 31st and the 5th, but I was very busy at work that week, and I usually blog while I'm chained to my desk.  I do have a computer at home, but I was so tired each day after work that I couldn't muster enough energy to get off my butt and walk that 10 feet to the computer.  Plus I'm still in the stone age and have dial-up internet at my house in Burnsville... but now I have DSL, so I should be posting more frequently I hope!  I might even force Matt to blog more too... so, there you have it.  My lame excuse for my lack posts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115505436303015908?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115505436303015908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115505436303015908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115505436303015908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115505436303015908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/08/wow-i-suck.html' title='Wow, I suck!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115438013017814146</id><published>2006-07-31T14:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T07:22:16.543-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in Translation</title><content type='html'>My nephew Luke is 20 months old now and is just barely starting to learn a few words aside from his normal gibberish (which I think is a combination of French, Spanish, Russian, German, and Chinese... and a smattering of northern Minnesotan). His word of choice at the present time is "hi". From the opening of a door to the opening of an eye, he'll greet you with his limited vocabulary of "hi" about 80 times in a row. Another "word" he has aquired is "la". "La" happens to mean "bye-bye", though when I first heard him say the word, it took me a while to translate what exactly he was trying to communicate with me until it was accompanied by a waving hand gesturing for me to get out. I am also quite proud to say that, other than boring old ma and pa, he can say my name. He addresses me as Rob or Ra-Ra, depending on his mood and laziness factor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everything he babbles about always makes sense however. More and more lately, I am starting to pick up subtleties thinking he really is trying to say something coherent underneath all the mumbles and jumbles. You can ask him a question and he will respond. Though I don't really comprehend what he is trying to tell me, I will nod in agreement and smile as though I'm following along with everything he is telling me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, at lunch today I was being lazy and lying on the couch while he used my legs as a highway for his Matchbox cars. I asked him a simple question: "Lukie! Are you going to go swimming in the pool this afternoon?" To which he responded: "Aye bloob a doob flerple nerples mathwich." Or something to that extent. I didn't get a direct quote so I had to paraphrase. Now, in my mind I tried to translate his crazy reply to which I guess he was telling me that either he (A) was going swimming this afternoon and he was very excited; or he (B) was mowing and trimming a spoon and he was merry exited. No matter what, I got lost along the way and before I could clarify what exactly he was trying to tell me in response to my question, he was in the other room talking to the TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everything is as confusing as the above incident - there will always be the clear answer of "NO" where he throws himself to the ground in the most dramatic fashion and puts his head on the floor shaking it back and forth while whining and screaming.  The terrible two's are coming... I'd better brace myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115438013017814146?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115438013017814146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115438013017814146&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115438013017814146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115438013017814146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/07/lost-in-translation.html' title='Lost in Translation'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115410325071184158</id><published>2006-07-28T09:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T10:14:12.353-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crappity, Crap, Crap, Crap!</title><content type='html'>Picture this:  attempting to collect your own "specimen" in a teeny tiny cup; then having to scoop small amounts of the "specimen" and mix it into a vile filled with preservative to make sure you don't have a parasite from Mexico, which your friends have so lovingly named "Pepe".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115410325071184158?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115410325071184158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115410325071184158&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115410325071184158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115410325071184158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/07/crappity-crap-crap-crap.html' title='Crappity, Crap, Crap, Crap!'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115403239063565340</id><published>2006-07-27T13:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T14:51:24.523-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why yes, Jimmy!  You ARE a Transport American...</title><content type='html'>So I didn't blog yesterday. Oops. I said I'd blog something every day. So I'm blogging today and I'll try and make it longer to compensate for yesterdays lack of motivation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So even though I detest my job and have been crapped on by trick-ass management more times than I'd like to say, it was suggested that I write about a day in the life of a Transport America slave. So, a la the dreamy &lt;a href="http://www.kare11.com/assetpool/images/06315164711_s_sungaard_bio.jpg"&gt;Sven Sundgaard&lt;/a&gt;, here is my day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:15 - Alarm starts beeping because Matthew needs extra time to wake up. Repeat this annoyance about 5-6 more times until he gets up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:00 - Matthew comes back from showering and rubs my back until I wake up... I think about rolling over and slapping him for waking me up from my dream about Sven. I think maybe my dream has come true and Sven is actually rubbing my back, roll over, nope, still Matt ;-) Get up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:04 - Stand in front of bathroom mirror and put in my contacts and hop in the shower. Sing something like "Defying Gravity" from "Wicked" to entertain myself. Sometimes make it a duet with Matthew while he finishes getting ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:13 - Kiss Matthew goodbye as he jaunts off to work so he can support our lavish lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:15 - Finish getting ready and dress myself. Yes, I do dress myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:30 - Walk 83 miles to my car down in the parking lot and drive to work. During my drive I take time to reflect on how much I loathe TA, I participate in solo sing-a-longs, think about the weekend, and yell at crummy morning drivers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:00 - Arrive at my desk (give or take 5 minutes) and log into my computer. While it's logging in I look out our floor to ceiling windows longing for the outside world and 4pm to hurry up and roll around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:15 to 12:00 - I usually spend this time working; HOWEVER, a lot of it is spent slacking off on the internet, emailing friends, talking to my sister who works here, and blogging. I always get my work done pretty quickly, so I have a lot of time on my hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:00-1:00 - Lunch! WOOHOO! I get an hour away from this crap hole!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:00-4:00 - Work, chat, email, and of course, surf the internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:00 - FREEDOM!!! Tear out to my car as fast as my little legs will carry me... throw on my shades and crank up the music. Peel out of the parking lot and avoid plowing down nice co-workers... the ones I don't like so much I narrowly avoid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:27 - I get home and Matt and I sit around watching the last half of Oprah and make dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:30 - Wheel of Fortune!!! Yell out the answer to the puzzle long before the players get it and then yell at the players like an old man for being stupid. Think about applying to be on the show because I know I could make a haul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the night's activities varies and depends on what we have planned. We are usually in bed by 10 because we're a couple of grandpas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There you have it. It might be kind of boring, but......... you'd be right! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115403239063565340?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115403239063565340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115403239063565340&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115403239063565340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115403239063565340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/07/why-yes-jimmy-you-are-transport.html' title='Why yes, Jimmy!  You ARE a Transport American...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-115384709793679089</id><published>2006-07-25T10:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T11:04:57.953-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dust Yourself Off and Try Again...</title><content type='html'>I gave up on blogging a while back after I decided no one was really reading anything I had to say.  That or people were reading, but just didn't comment on my boring musings of my life.  Sometimes writing something everyday got to be more of a chore than anything; however, I really do love to write. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always a passion of mine when I was a kid to write.  I could sit in front of a keyboard and put my little imagination to work and whip out a story in an hour.  I'd write family newsletters complete with a weather forecast (courtesy of someone like Paul Douglas or Ken Barlow of course) and a comic section.  I was encouraged most to write by my 9th grade english teacher, Mrs. Born.  She was a huge fan of my writings and always told me what a wonderful style and dry sense of humor I had in my pieces.  She even went as far as giving me an award at the 9th grade awards ceremony saying I'd be the first published writer of my graduating class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well all of that passion and imagination kind of went down the drain when I got into my senior year of high school and college and was forced to write endless scores of research papers and legal summaries for some law classes I took.  Doing something like that for 4 years really sucks any and all ambition and cleverness right out of a person.  There was a brief stint when I studied in Paris my junior year of college when I had to write all my papers in french.  That kind of lit a flame under my derriere for a while and made me feel like a true writer since most great authors/thinkers from the last century were french.  Simone de Beauvoire.  Jean Paul Sartre.  And as much as I hate reading her work - Marguerite Duras.  However, as much fun as writing en fraincais and pretending to be philosophical while sipping my espresso in a sidewalk cafe was, I was quickly brought back to reality by my french professors form of love and praise for my work.  When I say love and praise, I mean breaking a student down mentally and verbally to the level of an infant, building them back up, and then ripping them a new rear end.  All the while scolding you in french and smelling of bad cheese and body odor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I overcame that little speedbump and managed to pump out some of my best work my senior year of college via my political science senior thesis and french portfolio.  Writing got put on the back burner after college and I kind of missed writing the dreaded research paper.  All those years of loathing and spite for writing those late night papers actually tured out to be a secret love of mine.  Thus, inspired by some friends who had blogs and one quite notable blog by Stephanie Klein called Greek Tragedy (which, if you haven't read her blog before, I highly suggest it, and check out her new book), I began my own blog here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been really bad at keeping up with this, hence the two month gap between my last post and this one, I am making a resolution, a la Miss Klein's once upon a time, to write every day.  Whether it be something as little as 5 sentences or as long as a novel, write every day.  We shouldn't let laziness get in the way of something we're passionate about.  A passion sets us free from everyday stresses like work and gives us a chance to enjoy life.  Writing is a passion and I shouldn't let it die because I feel like I have nothing to write about.  If I'm passionate about it, I'll find something to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned my friends.  Hopefully you'll see great things on this blog!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-115384709793679089?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/115384709793679089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=115384709793679089&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115384709793679089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/115384709793679089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/07/dust-yourself-off-and-try-again.html' title='Dust Yourself Off and Try Again...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114667388104410940</id><published>2006-05-03T09:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T10:35:40.686-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Job Hunting - Not for the weak and weary...</title><content type='html'>I've been job hunting for who knows how long, only to come up empty handed... am I not looking in the right places? Do potential employers find me hideous and unemployable? No, that can't be the case, I am a phenomenal dresser and I'm pretty sure my hygene is top-notch. They must be intimidated that I'll bitch-slap them en francais if they make a wrong move. Yes, that must be it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to my co-worker, Lisa, about our job situations since we both seem to be in the same boat. I had never really talked to Lisa much until I moved desks and now sit right next to her. I was always intimidated by her pretty looks and her "popular girl" personality, but we began emailing last week and she's grown on me. We've started to lean on each other at work when we're at our wits end with our supervisors, and since we can't exactly have a verbal conversation about our frustrations, we've found another way to be bitter and spiteful - email. Through the gossip we've shared with each other, I've come to learn that we are not the only ones here who are fed up with our jobs and supervisors. She has been looking for a new job for about as long as I have, and she too has come up with nothing. So the best her and I can do while doing the job search is complain about our co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds me somewhat of the movie "9 to 5", starring Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, and Dolly Parton. For those of you who haven't seen this movie, I'd suggest it. The three women battle the "sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot" boss-man in a series of events, and in the end, they pretty much come out on top. But their frustrations with work and their boss reminds me a lot of what Lisa and I talk about, minus having a pot party while doing that. Why is work so stressful? And it's not stressful in the sense of having a lot of work to do - don't get me wrong, I have plenty of work to do - but it's stressful in the sense that I work with a bunch of monkeys whose jobs I could be doing a million times better than them. But alas, my company doesn't see that. So I'll be stuck doing what I'm doing until one day, hopefully in the very near future, I get a new job that takes me to new heights.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114667388104410940?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114667388104410940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114667388104410940&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114667388104410940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114667388104410940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/05/job-hunting-not-for-weak-and-weary.html' title='Job Hunting - Not for the weak and weary...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114444212929834989</id><published>2006-04-07T14:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T14:35:29.356-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ants In My Pants</title><content type='html'>It's Friday afternoon and I am sitting here at work, barely able to contain myself and giddy with excitement that I get to blow this popsicle stand in a half hour.  I only had a 4-day work week, since my birthday was on Monday; however, this week has dragged on and on and on... and I didn't think it would ever end.  But alas, it's drawing to a close, and thus begins my weekend-o-fun! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I finally get a night to just stay at home with Matty and do nothing all night tonight.  I'm looking forward to this bit-o-nestling because I don't think my brain can handle any more thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Matt and I get to crash a bachelorette party tomorrow night, and I'm very excited!  Let's face it, 2 fun gay boys ALWAYS make the party more fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  It's supposed to be nice outside all weekend... it's about frickin' time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, stop laughing!  I know my weekend plans look really lame now that they're all typed out, but I'm really looking forward to it!  It's the first time in a while where Matt and I haven't been committed to any plans with anyone!  We're just so damn popular!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114444212929834989?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114444212929834989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114444212929834989&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114444212929834989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114444212929834989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/04/ants-in-my-pants.html' title='Ants In My Pants'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114365126049179330</id><published>2006-03-29T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T11:00:40.073-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Basic Instinct 2: Meet Mrs. Satan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/gallery/wouldyouwearit/060410/sstone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/gallery/wouldyouwearit/060410/sstone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it just me, or does Sharon Stone look a little like the bride of Satan here? This was what she looked like for the premiere of Basic Instinct 2... A few observations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Try not to look so crazy, even if your fictional character is.&lt;br /&gt;2.) Since when is it the "in thing" to match your lips to your hair color?&lt;br /&gt;3.) She really needs a new stylist - I mean, who the heck thought it would be sexy to give her the Marie Antoinette/Hootie McBoob Prostitute/Ratty looking up-do?&lt;br /&gt;4.) You're 50-something, and not hot enough to show your cooter anymore on screen, so let's start looking more our age and a little less scary/slutty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Check out &lt;a href="http://bertachel.blogspot.com"&gt;Bertachel&lt;/a&gt; for fashion critiques and other random fashion slams!**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114365126049179330?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114365126049179330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114365126049179330&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114365126049179330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114365126049179330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/03/basic-instinct-2-meet-mrs-satan.html' title='Basic Instinct 2: Meet Mrs. Satan'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114356681909162417</id><published>2006-03-28T11:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T11:53:57.616-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Fly Zone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.worsleyschool.net/socialarts/personal/pic00.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.worsleyschool.net/socialarts/personal/pic00.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7697/2002/1600/Chair%20Guy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Co-workers are an interesting bunch... and not to single out any specific industry or trade, but I must say, hands down, that the transportation/trucking industry is BY FAR the most interesting group. While everyone is rather irritatingly pleasant and nice to one another, I have never heard the F-Bomb dropped so much in my life, nor have I seen particular people eat a smorgasbord of McDonald's breakfast, almost every morning before. Another interesting tidbit is how much some people totally invade others' private bubble. There is one person in particular, and we shall call him Humpy (obviously NOT his real name, although it should be).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Humpy needs something from you or needs to talk to you, he will come stand behind your chair. Now, this may seem reasonable to some people, but he doesn't just stand there. His front side is, no joke, pressed up against the back of your chair. He'll just stand there until you notice him and ask him what he needs. Honestly, I think Humpy get's his rocks off on practically humping the back of your chair. Sometimes he even gets a little physical with it by patting your shoulders... I mean, it's bad enough that one has to feel Humpy breathing down onto the top of your head, but there is no need to, as Olivia Newton-John once sang about, "get physical". At work, my personal bubble is a no fly zone for anyone - especially you, Humpy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114356681909162417?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114356681909162417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114356681909162417&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114356681909162417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114356681909162417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/03/no-fly-zone.html' title='No Fly Zone'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114348064357001300</id><published>2006-03-27T10:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T11:36:53.863-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bowl-O-Rama</title><content type='html'>I think I might become a pro-bowler. I don't know if it was the sweaty balls we were using, or if it was the previous bowler's germ-infested shoes I was using, or if Bi Al's bowling karma was wafting toward lane 8, but I was tearin' it up our first game. We were ALL tearin' it up on our first game. I scored a 150! I think that was the highest score I've ever had at bowling. However, after that first game, my old age and arthritis started kicking in and each game after got subsequently worse and worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second game we maintained our spark and I got 119, which is still good for me. I think the crusty beer we were drinking was starting to kick in, too, so our scores slipped a little, along with the ability to control the level of our voices and control of the sweaty balls. I know that sounds dirty, but seriously, the balls we sweating like no other... which, being a germ-o-phobe, worried me a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third game we decided that we all had to bowl with the opposite hand. Lord almighty. I have never laughed harder in my life! We all looked like a group of special-ed string beans who could not control their limbs... people were staring and pointing at the 4 twenty-somethings bowling worse than their 3 year-old kids. We did manage to hit some pins, but overall, that game was for entertainment purposes... also, bowling like that is a sure-fire way to clear the lanes next to you on both sides so you can act even more stupid and not have to worry about what your bowling neighbors might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last game we played only lasted 5 frames, so we granny-bowled. I actually did pretty well with this one. I managed to get 3 or 4 strikes in a row. Matt and I also learned that it is much easier for boys to granny bowl than girls... proof positive by looking at Cathy's granny bowling form, which I would try to descibe, but there really aren't words for it. Good times, good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in conclusion, I suggest bowling to everyone if they are looking for something entertaining to do... especially cosmic bowling. There's lots of sexy black lights, so be sure to wear non-jizz stained clothing, but make sure you wear something that will make you glow. And as always, there's a ton of choice people and fashion statements being made, so it's a fabulous pick-me-up if you're feeling down about yourself!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114348064357001300?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114348064357001300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114348064357001300&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114348064357001300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114348064357001300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/03/bowl-o-rama.html' title='Bowl-O-Rama'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114322151281718861</id><published>2006-03-24T11:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T11:53:38.366-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch-up...</title><content type='html'>It has been well over a month since I've posted anything on here... I think it's been a combination of sheer laziness and lack of something interesting to write about. So much has (NOT) happened in the last month! Where to begin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time we met... hmmm, that was... whew! February 15th! I'm a little behind the times I guess... well nothing major happened in those last two weeks in February, so we'll just move on to March...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-March 5th: The Oscars have been mulled over and over, so I won't give my fashion critiques, other than to say Reese looked gorgeous and I'm happy she won the Oscar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-March 11th: Matt's family took a trip up to the Big City and we all went out to dinner at Buca's for his mom's 50th birthday. It was excellent and the wait for a table wasn't bad, minus the 800 times my front side got plastered against the fake Roman pillar in front of the "bread baking observation area" in the packed-so-tight-it-was-a-fire-hazard waiting room, while Juan Cucaracha (or whatever his name was) kept opening the oven, exposing my face to the flames of hell... *gasp* ... while my back side was being violated by unknown strangers passing by. And I'm pretty sure my face was dripping with sweat, which probably got onto some of the bread Mr. Cucaracha was making... but that's ok because it adds more flavor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March 17th: St. Patrick's Day. Matt and I took this day off for fun, and we were both sauced by 9am. Ok, I lied, we weren't sauced at all that day, but we did go to the bar downtown for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That, friends, brings us to today, March 24th. Tonight I am going bowling at Sunray with Rachel, Cathy, and Matt. Bring the cameras, kids! I haven't been bowling since college; however, I do have the bowling form down pat where the one leg sweeps majestically behind the other. That, I can do... the ball, on the other hand, doesn't have such perfect form and usually ends up in the gutter. I have an innate fear that I'll be "that guy" whose bowling ball slips off his fingers while he swings his arm back to throw the ball down the alley, and then gasps in horror with his hands covering his mouth in shock like he just won the Miss America pageant, while the ball flies back and hits someone in the face... I think its cosmic bowling tonight though, so at least it will be dark, and no one will witness my dainty bowling skills.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114322151281718861?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114322151281718861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114322151281718861&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114322151281718861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114322151281718861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/03/catch-up.html' title='Catch-up...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-114002229678825920</id><published>2006-02-15T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T10:51:36.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Limbo</title><content type='html'>I read my friend Missy’s blog last week and she had a very insightful post about packing and organizing for a life that hasn’t even started yet.  After college, like Missy, I started buying household items for a future apartment or house, and packing them up along with other personal belongings hoping that someday soon I would be moving away and on my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that same day I got home from work and stood in my room looking around at what I have collected over the months since moving back home from college in mid-2004.  I realized I had bought a lot of stuff for a future residence.  I bought a big boy bed, a bookshelf, a chair, a computer desk, numerous household decorations such as pictures, vases, lamps (I seriously have more lamps than I can shake a stick at – it’s kind of a vice of mine.  I love cool lamps… it’s weird, I know), artsy stuff from Ikea, mirrors, and candles.  I had such grandiose dreams – living at home with my mom for a short period of time and then moving out with a roommate after having lived at home for 6 months and living happily ever after.  That dream soon faded away into oblivion and I stopped buying and organizing for something that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After living at home for a while, I began to realize that I would not have the ability to move out on my own because a.) I had no more options for roommates as all my friends had found other people to live with, and b.) I was not making enough money to live on my own without a roommate because rent is so outrageous for a one bedroom.  Living at home really isn’t all that bad.  I can’t complain because my set up is really quite ideal.  Cheap rent, I have the entire lower level of my mom’s house to myself, free cable, free internet, free utilities… and I can close off half of the lower level where my bedroom and bathroom are from the rest of the house.  And besides, I’m practically living at Matt’s apartment anyway, so I am hardly ever actually living at my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been off the home decorating kick and buying things for a while until this past weekend when Matt and I went and toured some of the homes in the Parade of Homes booklet.  He and I looked at some townhouses in Woodbury.  If he and I end up staying in Minnesota, we would more than likely get a townhouse – and just looking for fun gave me the itch to start anticipating a move again – and the move would not even happen until October or November.  Then Monday night my mom and I went to Target together and she bought my sister some new dishes for her birthday and she convinced me to buy this lamp (like I need anymore lamps!) that was on clearance.  We finished splurging on household items and went home and I started collecting items from my old bedroom upstairs and organizing them into big Rubbermaid containers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know if it’s me just wanting to move, or if it’s my Bree VanDeKamp/Martha Stewart obsession with keeping things organized, or if it’s just the Spring Cleaning phase coming into play… Since I can’t quite put my finger on what the deal is, it makes me feel like I’m in limbo – and it’s not just the whole living situation above, but my career and future as well.  There are some things I know I am certain of at this point, but not everything.  I think a lot of people my age are in limbo at this time of their life.  I guess I just have to wait and see what comes my way and hope for the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-114002229678825920?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/114002229678825920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=114002229678825920&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114002229678825920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/114002229678825920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/02/limbo.html' title='Limbo'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113926326791344214</id><published>2006-02-06T15:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T08:37:12.306-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bathroom Encounters</title><content type='html'>Rule NUMBER ONE when in the men's restroom: NEVER talk to the guy at the next urinal while you are peeing (mainly if you don't know him).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has had to have happened to every guy at one point or another in his life - you're having a peaceful piss, and then the guy at the next urinal decides to be all neighborly and strike up a conversation about baseball, or some other masculine topic which I would know nothing about, given my circumstances. You stand there - uncomfortable and trying to pee faster just to get the heck out of there - awkwardly staring at the wall and noticing that the no-talent ass clown next to you is actually trying to make eye contact with you. This brings me to Rule NUMBER TWO: If you happen to be one of those guys who talks to his urinal neighbor, do not try and make eye contact. It's just uncomfortable and gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It should be one of those known rules in the bathroom to not talk to anyone (unless you really know them well, but even then you still stare at the wall, not at them), but occasionally you get those rebels who break the rules and make it weird. However, all of the above can be avoided, if you have more than two urinals to take advantage of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule NUMBER THREE: If there are numerous urinals to choose from, always leave a space of one urinal between you and any other guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this came about because here at work, I only have the option of two urinals and two stalls in the bathroom on this floor. There have been many times where I'll be standing in an empty bathroom doing my business and some clown will come in and stand at the next available space, and strike up a conversation with me like we've been best friends for years. It's uncomfortable. And it's just weird. Don't do it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113926326791344214?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113926326791344214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113926326791344214&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113926326791344214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113926326791344214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/02/bathroom-encounters.html' title='Bathroom Encounters'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113898697584805477</id><published>2006-02-03T11:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T14:27:09.266-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Buca</title><content type='html'>I ventured to Matt’s homestead in O-Town again last night. We went down for the &lt;a href="http://www.owatonnagunclub.com/"&gt;Owatonna Gun Club’s&lt;/a&gt; annual roast beef dinner. The food was pretty good and Matt’s dad paid for our tickets, so I couldn’t complain too much. It was everything I could have imagined – small town gun club, small town people, with home cooking. It was quite a nice break from the city for a few hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got to meet Matt’s newest pride and joy – his 2 week old nephew, Christian. Christian is a little peanut of a baby with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He is quite a sight to see; however, I have to remain loyal to my Lukie… he’s still the cutest little man that I know! But Christian is certainly right up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matt held his “Buca” most of the night and got his “Christian fix”. Matt was so sweet with Christian. He held him in his arms and his hands gently cradled his head. I had never seen Matt hold a baby before, and to be quite honest – it was one of the cutest and most touching things I’ve seen. For those of you who don’t know Matt, he’s very tall, so seeing this tall guy holding a tiny little seven pound infant was adorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For someone who said he doesn’t want children, he does a great job of handling one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113898697584805477?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113898697584805477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113898697584805477&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113898697584805477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113898697584805477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/02/buca.html' title='Buca'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113890020147429530</id><published>2006-02-02T10:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T13:23:35.626-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been a while...</title><content type='html'>Wow, it's been almost a week since I posted anything on here. I haven't had much to write about I guess! I'll just write a brief recap of this last weeks events and write something with more substance later on, that is if my mind can come up with something interesting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My mom's surprise party went off without a hitch! It was a lot of fun and she was very surprised. Her family had come up from Kansas and Iowa to help us celebrate and she was very excited to see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Matt and I passed the 4 month mark... it's gone by fast, but in a good way. ***Ok, ok, ok... because a little whiny someone-who-shall-remain-nameless complained that I put a bad picture up here earlier, I had to post a different one.  SO, this is Matt and his co-worker Kari at their skating party last Friday.***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7697/2002/320/Kari%20and%20Matt%2C%20gold%20medal%20winners%21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I interviewed for a Customer Service Manager position here at work. It would be a nice promotion for me and make it more tolerable to stay here for a while longer. I'll find out late next week whether or not I got the job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I bought the Oprah 20th Anniversary DVD collection at Target. Oprah sure knows her stuff! And she certainly knows how to make people cry with her human interest pieces. Oh Mattie Stepanek... that story makes me cry every time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/10110000/10112155.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That marks most of the highlights since last Friday. Pretty boring, I know - but I promise to think of something better to put up here! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113890020147429530?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113890020147429530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113890020147429530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113890020147429530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113890020147429530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/02/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s been a while...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113839267078256032</id><published>2006-01-27T13:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T14:11:10.870-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Similarities</title><content type='html'>Today is my mom's 60th birthday, but if she asks how you found out her age, you didn't hear anything from me!  Me and my other siblings are throwing a surprise party for her at a restaurant in Burnsville tonight, and even my grandma and aunt from Kansas are coming up to help celebrate.  I'm very excited about it as she deserves every bit of the fun and attention, not just today but every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I were looking through a box of my mom's pictures a couple of weeks ago to make up a photo display for the party, and judging from some of the photos, my mom (and my parents together) looked like she's had some crazy adventures when she was younger.  It's amazing how much one picture can say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at my mom's college days and when she was married to my dad and they were living here and out in California, it makes me wish I knew my parents at those various stages in their life.  I don't know many of their stories, or anything really about when they were married, and some of those stories I'm missing out on.  It makes me wonder just how much I am like my parents.  That's not to say I don't think I'm anything like my parents, but I want to know what things we had in common - like what they were involved in and what they were like when they were my age - if they had similar problems or joys, and see if I can relate.  Overall, I'm more similar to my dad (if you want to know specifically how I'm more similar to him, just ask).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My siblings always make fun of me and say I'm a clone of my father, which I have been coming to the conclusion, good or bad, that I have many of his mannerisms; but at least I'll have youthful good looks and won't look a day over 40 until I'm probably 80, which more than most people can say!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am definitely my parent's child, smoldering good looks and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113839267078256032?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113839267078256032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113839267078256032&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113839267078256032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113839267078256032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/similarities.html' title='Similarities'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113813975328562753</id><published>2006-01-24T15:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T15:55:53.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kind of Town</title><content type='html'>Well, apparently I’m not one of the cool kids who got to go on a cruise, but I at least got to go to Chicago this weekend.  So THERE! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a rather unpleasant two and a half days, which I’d rather not get into on this post or else it’ll just angry up the blood again.  Let’s just say rude and ungrateful people suck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matty and I got to at least spend a little less than a day on our own in Chicago, so once we left the beast behind, we made our way to our hotel to check in.  We got into our room and were finally able to shower and change clothes after having stewed in our own filth for two days.  We were so rank that you could actually see the stink lines coming off our bodies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we were all dolled up and ready to show Chicago’s gay boys how to work it, we went to dinner and then headed to the bars.  It was pretty dead at most of the watering holes, but it was a Sunday night, so I wasn’t expecting anything huge… but I still had a blast.  We went to Cocktail, Roscoe’s, Side Track, and Hydrate.  Matty got drunk, which is always fun because then he tells me a lot of nice flattering things, which a boy like me likes to hear every once in a while.  There was also a late night stop at Walgreen’s on Halsted.  Late night Walgreen’s shopping sprees are always fun when you’re drunk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was a rather pleasant way to forget all of the chaos and bitterness involved in the move.  Plus it reminded me why I want to move to Chicago and just how much I’m in love with Matty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113813975328562753?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113813975328562753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113813975328562753&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113813975328562753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113813975328562753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-kind-of-town.html' title='My Kind of Town'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113761959106481559</id><published>2006-01-18T15:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T15:48:24.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>75 Things About Me</title><content type='html'>This was going to be "100 Things About Me" but I had to actually get some real work done...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I have really blue eyes, and I know how to use them to my advantage.&lt;br /&gt;2. I have 3 sisters, and 2 brothers.&lt;br /&gt;3. I broke my collar bone senior year of college playing football with choir boys and girls.&lt;br /&gt;4. My first job was selling baby clothes and baby furniture at Sears.&lt;br /&gt;5. I originally went to Gustavus Adolphus College to study to become a high school English teacher.&lt;br /&gt;6. I made out with my 9th grade girlfriend, Kim Olson, in the preschool rooms in the basement of my church.&lt;br /&gt;7. I can sing the entire musical “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat”.&lt;br /&gt;8. I tried smoking when I lived in Paris because everyone else was doing it. It never really caught on with me, but when I came back, I used to smoke when I drank.&lt;br /&gt;9. I saw Dennis Quaid at the Houston Airport on choir tour when we were waiting for our plane back to Minnesota. I followed his children around the bookstore there. They look most like his ex-wife Meg Ryan.&lt;br /&gt;10. I wet the bed until I was in 6th grade.&lt;br /&gt;11. I pick at my scabs.&lt;br /&gt;12. I’m in love with my Chapstick Lip Moisturizer.&lt;br /&gt;13. I saw Pope John Paul II on New Years Day 2003 at the Vatican and listened to his New Years address to the public. It was one of the coolest moments in my life, even though I’m not Catholic.&lt;br /&gt;14. When I was 6, I was the ring bearer in my brother’s wedding and I pooped my pants because I got super nervous. My dad threw my underwear away in the boy’s bathroom at the church and I had to go commando down the aisle with the flower girl, whose nickname was Peaches.&lt;br /&gt;15. I was an uncle for the first time at age 7.&lt;br /&gt;16. I don’t write my check card receipts into my checkbook. I should start doing that.&lt;br /&gt;17. I love Drea DiBartolo’s stuffed baked clams.&lt;br /&gt;18. I lost my virginity in a tent set up in the living room in an apartment in College View, my senior year of college. It was with an ex-girlfriend of mine.&lt;br /&gt;19. I hate math and science.&lt;br /&gt;20. I get hot flashes at least once a week.&lt;br /&gt;21. I don’t “pass wind” in front of girls unless I know them really, really well.&lt;br /&gt;22. I love Starbuck’s caramel macchiato.&lt;br /&gt;23. Michael Bublé makes me want to spooge a little.&lt;br /&gt;24. I used to let my nieces give me a make-over when they were younger.&lt;br /&gt;25. My sister Allison used to practice painting nails on me.&lt;br /&gt;26. I think Matt Marshall is HOT.&lt;br /&gt;27. Sometimes the Boy and I go to Abercrombie &amp; Fitch just to see if there are hot boys working.&lt;br /&gt;28. I love dipping apple slices in peanut butter.&lt;br /&gt;29. “To Kill a Mockingbird” is one of my favorite books and movies.&lt;br /&gt;30. My parents were going to name me Andrew Robert or Joshua Robert, but my mom liked the nickname Robbie.&lt;br /&gt;31. Santa at my dad’s house brought us all a stocking full of office supplies when I was 8. I still complain about that Christmas to my dad, that an 8 year old should get toys – not a stapler and tape.&lt;br /&gt;32. I have never cheated on a significant other, and I don't plan on ever doing that.&lt;br /&gt;33. I like ankle socks.&lt;br /&gt;34. I prefer tighty whities over boxers, but will wear both.&lt;br /&gt;35. Someday I want to live in Chicago.&lt;br /&gt;36. I used to steal food from the cafeteria at Gustavus when I worked there freshman year.&lt;br /&gt;37. I got severely constipated after I had my jaw surgery and had to ask my mom to go buy me a laxative.&lt;br /&gt;38. I got an “A” on my senior thesis in college, and it’s my pride and joy – all 33 pages of it.&lt;br /&gt;39. I think Michelle Kwan is too old to be competing in this year’s Olympics.&lt;br /&gt;40. I love my featherbed.&lt;br /&gt;41. My favorite episode of Will &amp;amp; Grace is “Old Fashioned Piano Party”.&lt;br /&gt;42. Rachel is my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;43. I got drunk for the first time when I was 15 at my cousin Natalie’s wedding.&lt;br /&gt;44. I love the game Dance, Dance Revolution.&lt;br /&gt;45. I used to model for the salon my mom works at when I was in pre-school.&lt;br /&gt;46. I dyed my hair my sophomore year of college and it turned out a bright orange color. It was supposed to be a light blonde. I looked like a leprechaun.&lt;br /&gt;47. My sisters and I used to dance around to the Beach Boys in our living room when we were kids.&lt;br /&gt;48. Of all my siblings, I’m closest with my sister Allison.&lt;br /&gt;49. It took 2 nurses and 30 minutes to give me my vaccinations when I was 11 years old. I screamed bloody murder.&lt;br /&gt;50. I was in a car accident with my mom the summer after 7th grade.&lt;br /&gt;51. My dream is to be a writer or journalist.&lt;br /&gt;52. My boyfriend’s name is Matt… there – the mystery of “The Boy” is solved.&lt;br /&gt;53. I don’t understand teenage girls’ obsession with looking like hoochies.&lt;br /&gt;54. I think Nicole Richie needs to eat something.&lt;br /&gt;55. I am a hair snob… I only buy expensive salon products.&lt;br /&gt;56. I get expensive salon products at a 40% discount because my mom works at a salon.&lt;br /&gt;57. When I was a young child, my mom told me they took our dog, Shadow, out to live on a farm. I didn’t realize they actually had him put to sleep until I was in college.&lt;br /&gt;58. My hands shake all the time… the doctor calls it “intentional tremor”, and it’s not life threatening.&lt;br /&gt;59. I have a lead foot, and drive 80-85 miles per hour on the freeway.&lt;br /&gt;60. It’s always been easier for me to make friends with girls than boys.&lt;br /&gt;61. I cry when I watch the movie “My Girl”. 100% guaranteed every time. “Where are his glasses?! He can’t see without his glasses!” How can you not cry during that scene?!&lt;br /&gt;62. I want to be an interior decorator.&lt;br /&gt;63. I can’t pee when someone is looking.&lt;br /&gt;64. I sucked my thumb when I was a kid.&lt;br /&gt;65. I slept with my security blankie until I graduated from high school. I still sleep with it sometimes. We have a special bond.&lt;br /&gt;66. I have never seen “Debbie Does Dallas”, but I kind of want to.&lt;br /&gt;67. I stepped on a toothpick once and it went through my foot.&lt;br /&gt;68. I lost my first tooth at my grandma’s house and cried even though it didn’t hurt.&lt;br /&gt;69. I like to snuggle with Matt.&lt;br /&gt;70. I decorate cakes better than Martha Stewart.&lt;br /&gt;71. I called in sick one morning so I could sleep in. I lied and said I had a migraine. I only took the morning off, and worked the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;72. When you Google my name, a website comes up for Robert Hill Productions. “Robert Hill” is a porn producer.&lt;br /&gt;73. There is another Robert Hill on the “No-Fly List” issued by the government. Every time I go to the airport to check-in, I have to wait 10 minutes while they verify I’m not THAT Robert Hill.&lt;br /&gt;74. I used to dance/jump along to the Pointer Sister’s “Jump (For My Love)” when I was little and my mom played it on our stereo.&lt;br /&gt;75. My Jetta’s name is Max Wang. He is the younger brother of my old Jetta, Gretta Wang. (Yes, I name my cars!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113761959106481559?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113761959106481559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113761959106481559&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113761959106481559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113761959106481559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/75-things-about-me.html' title='75 Things About Me'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113760679043981184</id><published>2006-01-18T10:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T11:56:25.393-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Le Fabuleux Destin de Rob</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.cyndischick.com/images%20m-z/Winter-in-Paris--534.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting here listening to a track from the soundtrack to Amelie, "Une Comptine d'une autre ete", and it's making me miss my hometown of Paris. Paris was always good to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When this song is playing in the movie, we see Amelie doing the little eccentricities that bring her joy and comfort - cracking the sugar coating on creme brulee with a spoon, plunging her hand into a sack of grain at the outdoor market, and skipping stones on the Canal de St. Martin. Listening to this song always makes me think of all of the joy and comfort Paris brought to me, and all of the little things I fell in love with there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The city is rich in history and culture, which I immersed myself in, but for the most part one of my favorite things to do was observe the locals and tourists. I would take the Metro from my apartment to the stop "Cite", emerge from the caverous underground station, and there in all it's majesty stands Notre Dame cathedral . There, I would find a spot to sit and just watch. Little French children with balloon-tied wrists chasing pidgeons. The Batobus traversing down the Seine, filled to the brim with tourists snapping photos. Mothers pushing their children in the stroller. An old man wearing a beret surveying the bouquinistes along the Seine. Out of all the places to people watch this was my favorite. By the end of my stalking the locals, I usually had quite an appetite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd then walk across a bridge to the other side of the river to the Latin Quarter, and here nestled among the intimate cobblestone streets and alley-ways was one of the best Greek restaurants in all of Paris. You could get a world class gyro with fries and a Coke for 6 Euro. In Paris, that's a great bargain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One (of the many) other thing I loved to do in Paris was go to the outdoor markets on the weekends. Rain or shine, you could always find outdoor markets along neighborhood streets. A gathering of neighbors and friends, vibrant colors, and fresh smells were abundant under the red and yellow striped tents. Each market was unique and usually had one stand that sold something different than the last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list could go on and on, but it would only make me miss Paris even more. I wish I could go back and visit, but since that is not a possibility at the moment, I'll only have my memories. As Gertrude Stein once wrote: "America is my country and Paris is my hometown." How true it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113760679043981184?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113760679043981184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113760679043981184&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113760679043981184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113760679043981184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/le-fabuleux-destin-de-rob.html' title='Le Fabuleux Destin de Rob'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113744532084167652</id><published>2006-01-16T14:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T15:02:00.853-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ho Runner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.showauto.com/FL/Pinellas/f1621/photos/16ew0406.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.showauto.com/FL/Pinellas/f1621/photos/16ew0406.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was driving to work this morning I saw a burgundy Oldsmobile Delta '88. It instantly reminded me of my old Delta '88 I drove in high school. Granted the one I drove had oxidized paint from having been in Florida for 3 years with my sister, the radio only worked if you put the fuse in or else the antenna would run continuously, and you could house a family of 10 in the backseat - it was a great car. My dad used to drive it before I drove it, and his license plates read "I'm Easy". Classy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a sexy car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113744532084167652?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113744532084167652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113744532084167652&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113744532084167652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113744532084167652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-ho-runner.html' title='My Ho Runner'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113744363751949595</id><published>2006-01-16T14:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T14:34:21.073-06:00</updated><title type='text'>*Sigh*</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.richard-seaman.com/USA/Cities/Chicago/Landmarks/ChicagoSkyline.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.richard-seaman.com/USA/Cities/Chicago/Landmarks/ChicagoSkyline.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I want the future to be here now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113744363751949595?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113744363751949595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113744363751949595&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113744363751949595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113744363751949595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/sigh.html' title='*Sigh*'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113710208473390055</id><published>2006-01-12T15:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T15:46:15.340-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Trippin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5746/1975/400/drpepper.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Alternating drinking this...&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 217px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="233" alt="" src="http://hamilton.house.upenn.edu/cafe/images/frappuccino.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and this...&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 194px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 328px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="312" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/5/5e/Dr_pepper_can.jpg/180px-Dr_pepper_can.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Equals...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Me bouncing off the walls...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So this is what being on LSD is like... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113710208473390055?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113710208473390055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113710208473390055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113710208473390055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113710208473390055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/im-trippin.html' title='I&apos;m Trippin&apos;'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113709949200172869</id><published>2006-01-12T14:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T14:58:12.016-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Most Addicting Game EVER</title><content type='html'>Move the red block around without getting hit by the blue blocks or touching the black edges!  You'll be hooked!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://members.iinet.net.au/~pontipak/redsquare.html"&gt;http://members.iinet.net.au/~pontipak/redsquare.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Procrastinate now, don't put it off...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113709949200172869?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113709949200172869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113709949200172869&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113709949200172869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113709949200172869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/most-addicting-game-ever.html' title='Most Addicting Game EVER'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113700694762077056</id><published>2006-01-11T11:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T13:15:47.676-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you like some food with that grease?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.culversaurora.com/culverlogo.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.culversaurora.com/culverlogo.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Culver's on my lunch break today because my nieces gave me a gift card for there, and now I feel like I'm going to yak all over my computer screen. I've never enjoyed Culver's all that much because their food is covered in grease, marinated in grease, infused with grease... however you want to put it. You could take a bite and watch the grease spray out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, it didn't cost me anything, just the gas to get there! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to haul ass to the boy's room and throw up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113700694762077056?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113700694762077056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113700694762077056&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113700694762077056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113700694762077056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/would-you-like-some-food-with-that.html' title='Would you like some food with that grease?'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113690878060452042</id><published>2006-01-10T08:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T10:04:28.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Soundtrack of You</title><content type='html'>We make many happy memories during our time here on Earth, and a smell, a sight, or perhaps a song can make those periods from our life surface. We smile upon these memories - a time spent with friends or family, a first date, a vacation, a kiss - and then let out a sigh and relive the moment in our mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, the strongest tie I have to most of my memories is music. A particular song I hear can take me back to my bedroom at my host parent's apartment in Paris, overlooking Rue de Charonne and the bustling markets... to my small dorm room when all of my friends and I would cram in together like sardines and watch movies under mountains of pillows and blankets... or to the Boy's bed, laying together, hands intertwined in the blue early morning light. Compile these songs together, and you'd have my personal soundtrack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you had a personal soundtrack, what would be on your list? Here are a &lt;em&gt;few&lt;/em&gt; tracks from mine (believe me, the list could go on and on):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Kissing" by Bliss&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Scientist" by Coldplay&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Feels Like Home" by Chantal Kreviazuk&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Call On Me" - Eric Prydz vs. Retarded Funk Remix by Eric Prydz&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Fernando" by ABBA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"Stole" by Kelly Rowland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Jump (For My Love)" by The Pointer Sisters&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Mr. Man" by Alicia Keys&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Goodbye Is All We Have" by Allison Krauss and Union Station&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Smoke" by Ben Folds Five&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Bootylicious" by Destiny's Child&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Winding Road" by Bonnie Sommerville&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Little Wing" by The Corrs&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Shine" by Cyndi Lauper&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Agnus Dei" by The Dale Warland Singers&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Stone" by Dave Matthews Band&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Case of You" by Diana Krall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Over My Head (Cable Car)" by The Fray&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Proud" by Heather Small&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Beautiful" by India.Arie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Truth" by India.Arie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Naked As We Came" by Iron &amp; Wine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Sodom, South Georgia" by Iron &amp;amp; Wine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Mr. Big Stuff" by Jean Knight &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Home to Me" by Josh Kelley&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Cry Me A River" by Justin Timberlake&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Dreamer" by Ozzy Osbourne&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"How Many Licks" by Li'l Kim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Tu es mon autre" by Lara Fabian&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"L'accordeoniste" by Edith Piaf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Lady Marmalade" by Christina Aguilera, Li'l Kim, Pink, and Mya&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What's Your Fantasy" by Ludacris&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"In The Waiting Line" by Zero 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Do What You Have To Do" by Sarah McLachlan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"New Slang" by The Shins&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Me and Julio" by Simon &amp;amp; Garfunkel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Strange" by Tori Amos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"We're Going To Be Friends" by The White Stripes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113690878060452042?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113690878060452042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113690878060452042&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113690878060452042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113690878060452042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/soundtrack-of-you.html' title='The Soundtrack of You'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113681970428435270</id><published>2006-01-09T08:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T09:16:19.940-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Heart Girl Talk</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.vintagegamestore.com/shop/images/10020587.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.vintagegamestore.com/shop/images/10020587.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of all the puking and whatnot between myself and the Boy this weekend (we were both sick) we managed to have a great time on Friday night playing Girl Talk: Secret Diary Edition with my bestie Rachel. Having never played this game before and it being from the 80's, it provided some much needed laughs...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine three 20-somethings sitting around a St. Paul apartment playing a game geared toward 1980's teenage girls with bad crimped hair and large puffy bangs, dressed in pastels. Funny, I know - but it was a blast, really! And the best part was that you could win "Hot Boy Cards" (at least that's what we called them) which had a picture of a boy and a description of him. They had the bad boy, the sensitive boy, the jock, the nerd... you catch my drift. I won Mitch, Cody, Michael, and Brad. They're so dreamy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at the end of the game, the winner got to read the embarrassing secrets that we each wrote down and put into the "Personal and Confidential" file at the beginning of the game... and believe me friends, there was one particular secret from the Boy that was VERY funny...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** Just look at how much fun the girls are having on the cover of the game box... talk about fugly though... honestly, what were people thinking back then with their personal style choices? I'm not saying I was any better, but still... permed hair? And that sexy little pink sweater vest the girl on the right is wearing (probably with a pink paisley button down shirt underneath)? And the hot teal denim shirt the other girl is sporting with the matching teal bulb earrings?&lt;br /&gt;H-O-T!!!***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113681970428435270?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113681970428435270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113681970428435270&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113681970428435270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113681970428435270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-heart-girl-talk.html' title='I Heart Girl Talk'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113639516798005644</id><published>2006-01-04T10:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T11:19:28.003-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dance Like Nobody's Watching</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.blancheonline.net/Bilder/haus15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.blancheonline.net/Bilder/haus15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've ever watched the &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/SouthBeach/Strand/5836/goldengirls.htm"&gt;"Golden Girls"&lt;/a&gt; on a regular basis (&lt;a href="http://www.lifetimetv.com/shows/golden/"&gt;in syndication on Lifetime&lt;/a&gt; every weekday from 5pm-6pm CST!), apparently all of life's problems can be fixed by sitting at the kitchen table and talking with your 4 elderly roommates. You can always find Blanche, Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia gathered in the kitchen hashing out their problems at 2am. I, on the other hand, find it much more helpful to do the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; like nobody's watching; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; like you've never been hurt. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; like nobody's listening; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;live&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; like it's heaven on earth." ~Mark Twain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Boy and I do this on a regular basis. We find ourselves caught up in singing the theme to "Golden Girls" in a very low bass voice and then laughing ourselves silly afterwards, or dancing to classics like &lt;a href="http://www.aceofbase.com/"&gt;Ace of Base's&lt;/a&gt; "All That She Wants". It was a long process to woo the Boy into singing in front of me and for me to dance in front of him, but now it's not a problem. It makes all of my problems from the day disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dancing in any form - car dancing, in a club, or in the comfort of your own home - is one of the most liberating things a person can do. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dance it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love someone - anyone - everyone. Love can be contagious. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sing at the top of your lungs in the car. Who cares if you get funny stares from other drivers? &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sing it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live like today is your last day on earth. Smile and love your life. &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Live it&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have our problems from day to day. Try not to let them get you down. I posted earlier about hating my job. Its not a definite punishment - it will pass. &lt;a href="http://www.marktwainhouse.org/"&gt;Mark Twain&lt;/a&gt; was a smart man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113639516798005644?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113639516798005644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113639516798005644&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113639516798005644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113639516798005644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/dance-like-nobodys-watching.html' title='Dance Like Nobody&apos;s Watching'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113638703609012119</id><published>2006-01-04T08:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T09:33:06.376-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy on the Verge</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/twentieth_century_fox/office_space/_group_photos/jennifer_aniston2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/twentieth_century_fox/office_space/_group_photos/jennifer_aniston2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://us.movies1.yimg.com/movies.yahoo.com/images/hv/photo/movie_pix/twentieth_century_fox/office_space/_group_photos/ron_livingston4.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm being whiny about my job today. This isn't a rare occurrence, but I flew off the handle this morning 5 minutes after I sat down at my desk because the company I work for is an evil corporation. So, here are "10 Reason Why I Hate My Job".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In no particular order...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Imagine me shaking my fist angrily and shouting "ROTTEN!!!"]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I am the only person in the entire company that does what I do... the work load gets a little overwhelming... a LOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Total lack of communication between management and the "underdogs"... a.k.a. ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Stupid Aramark jacked up the prices in the vending machines AGAIN! I'm not going to pay $1.25 for a Dr. Pepper people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Damn boxelder bugs... we have some sort of infestation here and they feel the need to do kamikaze dives into my face. Just die off already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Second shift workers... in the words of Karen Walker, "Lordy, Lordy... look at all the freaks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Coverage... when my sister is out, they make me cover for her and do her job... this puts me very far behind in my own work, and they wonder why we aren't getting paid by our customers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Building maintenance... shoveling? What's that?! De-icing the sidewalks? No way Jose!!! We like to see the employees biff it on their way in and out of the building!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Pay... my pay sucks. I should be making substantially more that what I am making now... "He earns minor duckets at a thankless job".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. No Year-End Bonus... we get nothing... no "thank you", no "good work", no money... nothing! I got a little jealous this year because all of my friends received bonuses ranging from $200-$1000...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. People telling me to do things that aren't a part of my job... this is a regular occurrence and I must continuously remind my "slow" co-workers that it's not my job or problem to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There you have it... I'll try and stop whining now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113638703609012119?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113638703609012119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113638703609012119&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113638703609012119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113638703609012119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/boy-on-verge.html' title='Boy on the Verge'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113632580372050586</id><published>2006-01-03T15:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T16:03:23.743-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful, Part One</title><content type='html'>Ok, ok, ok.  So I've been inspired by the posts and newspaper articles I've been reading, and I decided that perhaps it's time to put up my list of the "Things I am Thankful For In 2005/Best of 2005".  So, in no particular order, here it goes friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nephew, Luke:  Luke turned 1 this last November and I have been so thankful for having him in my life.  I am lucky and get to see him at least once every week (it's usually 2-3 times a week) and he brings the biggest smile to my face.  He is such an entertaining little guy and most of our conversations include him saying "na-na", "ba-ba", and "da-da"... among other incoherent phrases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Boy:  We met on October 1st, and we're still going strong.  He has changed my life for the bettter since meeting him and I couldn't have asked for a better guy!  He treats me like a prince and keeps me active in my old age... and he's just like me, which is scary sometimes, but a good scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New York City: I ventured to the Big Apple for the very first time this last year in August with my friend Missy.  It was hotter than heck, but I still loved every minute of it!  Highlights include buying hotdogs from Habib in Central Park and seeing the musical "Avenue Q" and seeing the puppet sex... believe me, once you see puppets having sex and the puppeteers making sex noises, you've seen everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel Time: This consisted of watching Project Runway and hating Wendy Pepper AND watching Dancing With The Stars and hating Kelly Monaco whilst stuffing our faces with Chipotle, LeAnn Chin, the Ho, or Subway... oh, and occassionally compairing our stomach blubber and doing clay facial masks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easter 2005: I went to Kansas with my mom to visit my grandma, aunt and uncle.  I have never spent Easter with my mom's family before and so I am thankful for that opportunity.  Plus the Easter Bunny in Kansas puts cash in the eggs... I made out with $25!  Woo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Las Vegas: I went here in December with the Boy.  It was our first out of state trip with each other.  We were forced to spend every moment together (except for when I was hungover all day that Saturday), and we never got sick of each other...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bertachel: This new fashion label was created this last year by Rachel and I.  It's our future clothing line, which will be all the rage in a few years once we get it going.  Our dream, our baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all so far folks, I'll try and think of some more later while I'm on the elliptical machine...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113632580372050586?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113632580372050586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113632580372050586&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113632580372050586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113632580372050586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/thankful-part-one.html' title='Thankful, Part One'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113625733638894722</id><published>2006-01-02T20:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T07:36:53.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>R.I.P. iPod</title><content type='html'>Today is a sad, sad day for me. My beloved iPod, which has been in my possession for a mere 5 months, has died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had it connected to my computer and it was being updated by iTunes and being charged. At the same time my mom and I were installing a new light fixture in the bathroom, so she switched off the electricity to the whole house instead of just the bathroom, and it surged my iPod and completely fried it. I just now discovered it has passed on, and I'm super pissed... there's $325 I'll never see again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R.I.P. My iPod that I bought in New York City at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square. August 6th, 2005-January 2nd, 2006.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113625733638894722?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113625733638894722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113625733638894722&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113625733638894722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113625733638894722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2006/01/rip-ipod.html' title='R.I.P. iPod'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113596092212132140</id><published>2005-12-30T10:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T10:42:02.133-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss D</title><content type='html'>I went out to dinner last night with the Boy and one of his girl friends, Drea.  I was a little nervous to meet her, as I always am when I meet one of his friends for the first time.  All I had been told about her is that she was Italian and somewhat upfront.  This didn’t help my situation any, as I am very shy when I first meet someone and I didn’t want to give off the wrong impression. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three of us met at Old Chicago for dinner.  The Boy and I walked in the door and Drea had just arrived.  The usual introductions were made, and so far, so good.  I could tell I was going to like her company.  We found a table in the bar area and ordered a much needed drink and deep dish pizza.  After inhaling half of my Honeyweiss and a few slices of pizza, my nerves were finally starting to calm down and I could truly begin to appreciate my new acquaintance and the evening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began to loosen up and make more eye contact with Drea.  Being shy straight off the bat is not a good thing to have to deal with.  The longer you let it hold you back, the harder it is going to be to jump into the conversation and get to know someone.  I began to speak more and throw in my two cents, and after a while, I was able to be myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drea is one of the most fascinating people I have met in a long time.  She is from Chicago and is here in Minnesota finishing Veterinary School at the U; however, she didn’t go to school here all four years.  Prior to transferring to Minnesota, she spent 3 years in Grenada (in the Caribbean) – I never got around to asking her why she decided to come to the frozen tundra.  She is now basically done with school and has found a job back in Chicago, so the Boy and I are going to help her move back to the Windy City in January.  But I digress…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to talking about her experiences in vet school and how excited she is to move back to Chicago.  We talked all about the neighborhoods the Boy and I were thinking of moving to when we move out there and which neighborhoods to avoid living in.  All the talk about Chicago made me want to move there even more.  The Boy kept using the phrase “when we move out there” with such confidence that it made the notion of us actually making this move together more real and that it’s actually going to happen.  He wants to make the move with me and that made me feel so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We consumed more Schnapps and Honeyweiss, we laughed, we talked more, and I felt like I had known Drea for longer than the 2 or 3 hours that we had been sitting in Old Chicago.  It was a comfortable setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evening came to a close and we parted ways.  Plans for New Years Eve were made, and we three are going to make filets and baked clams on Saturday night.  It was great to meet someone who is so warm and full of life.  I’m just sad that I didn’t get to meet her until three weeks before she moves to Chicago!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113596092212132140?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113596092212132140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113596092212132140&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113596092212132140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113596092212132140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/miss-d.html' title='Miss D'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113587612630010229</id><published>2005-12-29T11:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T11:08:46.316-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of Us – A History of Two Best Friends</title><content type='html'>Reflecting upon another fabulous and hilarious night with my bestie Rachel, I felt compelled to write the story of how she and I became best friends.  WARNING: This is lengthy… so try and keep up!  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I was, a freshman in college standing in Bjorling Recital Hall, wearing a heinous orange t-shirt, trying to resemble a rock quarry worker for the dress rehearsal of the Collegiate Chorus’ “The Flower That Shattered the Stone”.  I was the last person in line waiting to get on stage, aimlessly looking around and wondering how the hell I had been talked into joining this strange ensemble.  As I was beginning to imagine all the teasing I was going to endure from my friends after they saw this little musical, my thoughts were interrupted by an overly bouncy and perky Asian girl, who clearly possessed the personality like those residents from the North Side of campus.  The North Side, known for their rambunctious “social activities” and partying, was very well known and I had never really associated with them.  This crazy Asian surprisingly lived on the tranquil and sleepy South Side, but was obviously a wannabe North Sider.  But all of my perceptions of North and South Side changed forever on that night I’ll keep locked in my heart forever… for that perky Asian who should have been from the North Side, evolved into my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought to myself, Lord, they are going to give me so much sh** for doing this musical… how am I ever going to live this down?!  Just then a lovely and overly hyper Asian bounced on over to me and introduced herself as Rachel.  Rachel and I were having a surprisingly pleasant conversation despite the clear differences in personality, and I think we were maybe five minutes into it when she discovered I speak French.  Once this little tidbit was revealed, Rachel immediately stopped and said, “Oh my GOD!  What does ‘Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?’ mean?!”  I was shy and kind played dumb at first, but then with some prodding revealed that it means “Will you sleep with me tonight?”  We both laughed, and I’ll admit, by the end of the conversation, I had a bit of a crush. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The musical went off without a hitch.  The main characters sang their parts beautifully, namely one Miss Ali, who had the lead role and nearly brought tears to my eyes every time I heard her sing “Make Them Hear You” from the musical “Ragtime”.  Of course my friends sat in the front row and I couldn’t look at them for fear I’d burst out laughing, and I got my ample share of jabs and teasing from them, but they liked the show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last song was sung, the crowd cheered, and then there was the traditional gathering outside the recital hall where we could meet and greet the audience.  I found my friends and was talking to them when I was sought out by Rachel and her friend Lisa.  “Lisa, this is Rob; Rob this is Lisa.  He’s my boy toy!”  Mind you dear reader, that the words “boy toy” were not just spoken normally, but rather said with a musical touch and to add icing to the cake, Rachel accompanied this musical tribute with what is now deemed the “Boy Toy Jig”.  Yes friends, she did a little dance.  Imagine if you will a fully clothed burlesque dancer shaking her ta-ta’s and wiggling her body like a little wiggle worm… it was that classy… but it will forever remain etched in my memory as the first time I knew Rachel would be one of those special people in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The year ended and I didn’t talk to Rachel over the summer.  In fact, I didn’t talk to her until fall semester of sophomore year when I joined Chapel Choir.  Walking up the stairs to the balcony in Christ Chapel, hearing the chatter and laughing of choir friends reuniting – there she was, as crazy as I remembered her.  This year she lived on the North Side and had a new permed hair style, while I remained on the nerdy South Side with my former butt-part hair style. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel and I began to hang out after choir when I was invited to eat dinner with her and her other choir cronies after rehearsal one evening.  We found we complimented one another very well and surprisingly had a lot in common.  I’m normally very shy when I first meet someone, but once you get to know me, I bloom like a flower and my true colors are revealed.  It turned out I could be just as crazy as Rachel and the rest of the North Side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had become pretty good friends at this point and Rachel often traveled to the South Side (and I to the North Side) to visit and we would cause a ruckus in Sohre Hall – falling into garbage cans, shopping for man bras for a particular someone-who-shall-remain-nameless, and debating whether or not another particular someone-who-shall-remain-nameless would end up dating Marissa Kolander or be gay.  Good times had by all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, this friendship turned into romantic feelings and it all came full circle one November evening in Uhler Hall, while Rachel and I were visiting one of her friends nicknamed “Hobie”.  We both had a little bit to drink – ok a lot to drink – and ended up sitting at the top of the stairwell outside Hobie’s room and our “feelings” were revealed.  I’ll leave the rest to your imagination!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our romantic relationship lasted 3 weeks and it was ended sitting outside the Courtyard Café a day or two before Thanksgiving Break.  Let’s just say it didn’t end well, and Rachel and I didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the year, and all of junior year, except for one brief encounter just before the Gustavus Choir, which Rachel was now a member of, left for their tour of Italy for J-Term. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a cold January day our junior year.  I had just returned from Paris and studying abroad for a semester, and I was at Gustavus visiting friends and wishing the choir happy trails as their buses were loading to head to the airport.  Rachel and I bumped into each other and we said “hello” and I briefly told her about my study abroad experience and that they would have an amazing time in Rome.  That was the extent of our communication junior year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to December of senior year – Rachel’s apartment in College View for a post Christmas in Christ Chapel party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another performance of “C in CC” under my belt – it was time to unwind and have some fun before it all started again the next day.  It turned out that Rachel was having a “C in CC” choir party at her apartment, so I figured, eh, it can’t hurt.  I’ll know lots of people there.  I arrived and approached the “bar”, a.k.a. the kitchen counter, and Rachel was standing there pouring drinks and taking shots… being just as crazy and fun as I had always known.  A conversation ensued that would reveal many, many secrets about our sophomore year relationship and the evil forces driving the break-up, and in a matter of minutes, a year and a half of bitterness and confusion ended and we were on speaking terms again.  I felt great.  It felt like I had my friend back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there on out, we hung out, went to the bar together, and we were able to rekindle that special bond we had before.  For length reasons, I’m going to leave out some details, but since Rachel and I mended our relationship that December, we have become best friends and our bond has become so strong.  We realized that we could never date again, for reasons that are now clear cut and obvious (namely because I’m gay!), but I couldn’t have asked for a better way to have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not have asked for a more faithful and loyal friend.  We have persevered through so many trials and tribulations and we’re still standing by each other’s side.  She and I are so much alike that it’s scary.  We now claim that we’re twins that were separated at birth, except she stole all the Asian looks while we were still in the womb, and we found each other 20 years later at Gustavus…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you’re still with me at this point, good job.  And here’s to you, Rachel – may we always be best friends and Twins.  Your friendship is highly valued.  And cue Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings”…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus endeth the second sappy post in two days… LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113587612630010229?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113587612630010229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113587612630010229&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113587612630010229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113587612630010229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/story-of-us-history-of-two-best.html' title='The Story of Us – A History of Two Best Friends'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113580011120499910</id><published>2005-12-28T14:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T14:01:51.213-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Feels Like Home</title><content type='html'>The Boy and I got to talking about Chicago last night while making dinner at his apartment, and we’ve come to the conclusion that we both want to move there.  Chicago is a beautiful and bustling metropolis filled with excitement, entertainment galore, and good people.  We’d fit in perfectly and it is a good possibility that at this time next year, we’ll be living there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though we talked about a lot of different topics, our talk last night was one of those talks that made me stop and realize just how important the Boy is in my life and how happy he makes me.  There are some things in life that you are so unsure about, but when something or someone comes along in life that makes you smile all day thinking about them, or makes you want to climb to the top of the highest mountain and preach your love for them to the world – that’s just wonderful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I have ever felt so sure of anything for quite some time.  I’ve come a long way since graduating from college, and the Boy has helped me through a lot since we started dating.  I’m sure you’re probably getting sick of me gushing about him, but just know this – for those of you who know me, the Boy has made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time and he’s gone above and beyond all of my expectations.  I just hope I’m doing the same for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I’ll close this post with a quote from the genius musings of one Miss Carrie Bradshaw from the final episode of “Sex and the City”:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“…I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic; those that are old and familiar; those that bring up lots of questions; those that bring you somewhere unexpected; those that bring you far from where you started; and those that bring you back.  But the most exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you, you love - well, that's just fabulous.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113580011120499910?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113580011120499910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113580011120499910&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113580011120499910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113580011120499910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/feels-like-home.html' title='Feels Like Home'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113570106658942574</id><published>2005-12-27T10:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T10:31:06.596-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Aaaand cue Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye...</title><content type='html'>Another Christmas has come and gone!  I finally got into the spirit of the season on Christmas morning when I saw all of our stockings had been filled to the brim by “Santa”.  I felt like a little kid again because I couldn’t wait to see what I got… and then I was tortured by having to wait all day to get to open my gifts.  I got a lot of great things this year, and as usual, my mom was in tune with her children’s wants and needs for presents.  So, I’m giving props to my mom for another fabulous Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed Christmas immensely this year, as we did it in a little bit different form at my mom’s.  Normally we have a nice brunch in the morning with the whole family and open our presents and stockings; however, none of my siblings could make it over to the matriarch’s abode until Christmas afternoon - so we still had the extended family over for brunch, and then it was just my mom and her 4 kids, 1 grandkid, my sister’s husband, my brother’s fiancée, and a partridge in a pear tree for Christmas afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The siblings arrived around 3pm, and we opened presents and stockings and ate some food.  We laughed and enjoyed each other’s company… it was just a nice intimate setting and you could feel the love circulating about the room.  I felt like Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera Ellen should be popping up in our living room singing “White Christmas”.  Overall, it was a nice thing to have that day, and it made me realize just how much I love and appreciate the family I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here’s a belated Merry Christmas to everyone – I hope your holiday was everything you hoped for!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113570106658942574?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113570106658942574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113570106658942574&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113570106658942574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113570106658942574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/aaaand-cue-bing-crosby-and-danny-kaye.html' title='Aaaand cue Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113528404672441407</id><published>2005-12-22T14:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T14:40:46.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanted: Christmas Spirit</title><content type='html'>Is it me or did the Christmas season sneak up on us all too quickly?  I am not really in the Christmas spirit yet, which is sad because it’s about 2 days away now and I should be shaking my presents under the tree trying to figure out if I’m getting clothes or… clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it’s the fact that I’m a big boy now and I’m making my contribution to society by working at a thankless job.  It doesn’t allow time to get in the spirit…  It’s not like the good old days when you’d get 2-3 weeks off from school to recuperate, play in the snow, and tear open your presents, acting surprised that your parents got you that Nintendo (even though you knew that’s what you were getting because you snooped around in their closet while they were gone one day).   And the presents – I know it’s about the giving and not the receiving, but now that I’m an adult, the gifts I get from family aren’t as thrilling anymore.  I think things started going downhill when I turned 18.  When your dad accidentally gives your little brother a Christmas present that was intended for you, leaving you present-less with no gifts to open, it makes enjoying receiving presents a little less fun.  This actually happened to me a few years ago, but I ended up getting $80 in cash from my dad to replace the unpleasantness… :)  Ever since then, my dad’s gifts have been minimal, and we get cash.  A little impersonal, but hey, at least I can get something I actually want! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of giving gifts, I have already bought most of my gifts for everyone… this is a rare occurrence, so take note!  I only have to buy my future sister-in-law a whimsical snowman cake plate from Marshall Fields, a knife set (who buys knives as a gift?!  Apparently I do...) for my mom, and I have one or two more things to buy the Boy.  Though I know what I need to buy and where to buy it, it’s now a matter of me getting to those places, shoving women, children, and the elderly out of my way so I can get to my purchases quickly and maintain my sanity.  I’ve only had to flip someone off and mouth f*** you once this season while driving near a mall!  I’m doing great!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113528404672441407?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113528404672441407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113528404672441407&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113528404672441407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113528404672441407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/wanted-christmas-spirit.html' title='Wanted: Christmas Spirit'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113528219041917636</id><published>2005-12-22T13:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T14:09:50.433-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Man-O-Pause</title><content type='html'>My body's thermostat is broken.  Simple as that.  I think I am experiencing the male form of menopause... that or I'm trapped in a 50 year old woman's body.  This has been a reoccurring problem for me over the months.  Temperature wise, I'll be perfectly fine and comfortable one second and then two seconds later it'll be like I just finished 3 hours of "Sweatin' To The Oldies"!  After experiencing an "episode", it will take me several minutes to cool down and I'll be left with an embarrassing souvenir of the incident in the form of a lovely sweat line down my back... sexy, I know.  AND, it's always a plus when this happens at work, like it did just now (hence the reason for this entry), and people keep asking if you're ok because you look red, and sweat is pouring down your forehead like Niagara Falls.  Lovely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113528219041917636?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113528219041917636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113528219041917636&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113528219041917636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113528219041917636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/man-o-pause.html' title='Man-O-Pause'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20101222.post-113526793730178543</id><published>2005-12-22T10:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T10:12:17.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog virgin...</title><content type='html'>So, I never imagined starting a blog.  I mean, how interesting can my life be that it requires me to share it with the world?!  Not very... but I find myself to be quite funny sometimes.  Plus, my life does have it's fair share of adventures and my mind does have interesting thoughts occassionally... plus Rachel, my bestie and person I'll move into a nursing home with (very soon, as we both are aging rapidly...), has shown me through her own blog that this can be quite entertaining.  Thus, I am starting my own even if she will be the only one to read it.  :)  I'll post more later once I think of something exciting to post.  Yay!  I've finally lost my blog virginity.  I think I need a cigarette after that doozy...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20101222-113526793730178543?l=robertandrew.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/feeds/113526793730178543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20101222&amp;postID=113526793730178543&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113526793730178543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20101222/posts/default/113526793730178543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://robertandrew.blogspot.com/2005/12/blog-virgin.html' title='Blog virgin...'/><author><name>Roberto</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06615369972935998641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
