<?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-12154118</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:22:47.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i wish i were fat</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-3281081016716058986</id><published>2009-01-08T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T16:08:11.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas At My House</title><content type='html'>Some of you might have just four people at your house at Christmas time or maybe just a few more. but at my house there were 22 people.  I know that's a lot but it wasn't as crazy as I thought it would be but still it was kind of like the movie Home-Alone.                                                                                                                                        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the little kids at my house are a lot nicer than the kids in the movie I tell you that. I loved everybody being hear though because I never get to see everyone at once. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one thing I dislike about Christmas is saying good-bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-3281081016716058986?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/3281081016716058986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=3281081016716058986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/3281081016716058986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/3281081016716058986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2009/01/christmas-at-my-house.html' title='Christmas At My House'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-2610856682225222042</id><published>2008-02-22T07:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T22:57:20.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The moment you’ve all been waiting for….. applause, applause, applause</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am so obsessed with Nancy Drew. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I read the books.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77rDfIcnfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f0aTQoS8Aus/s1600-h/joeblog1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 276px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77rDfIcnfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f0aTQoS8Aus/s400/joeblog1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169827867396972018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I play the games.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77s-_IcnhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MnCCPnQHzso/s1600-h/joeblog3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 215px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77s-_IcnhI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MnCCPnQHzso/s200/joeblog3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169829989110816274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I love the movie.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77tnPIcniI/AAAAAAAAAAk/nMgOrFuwTJA/s1600-h/joeblog2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77tnPIcniI/AAAAAAAAAAk/nMgOrFuwTJA/s200/joeblog2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169830680600550946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt; &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;And Pamela Sue Martin is the best Nancy drew so far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77uS_IcnjI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9GcyHp9AJz0/s1600-h/joeblog4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 164px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77uS_IcnjI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9GcyHp9AJz0/s200/joeblog4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169831432219827762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;That is Parker Stevenson as Frank Hardy (left) and Shaun Cassidy as Joe Hardy (right). &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;And the doll is beautiful, I just ordered her today.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77yN_IcnoI/AAAAAAAAABU/TQ9Wzo_PB8A/s1600-h/joeblog5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 261px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77yN_IcnoI/AAAAAAAAABU/TQ9Wzo_PB8A/s320/joeblog5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169835744366993026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;But for the people that don’t know who Nancy Drew is, I will tell you. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;In the year 1930, a woman &lt;span style=""&gt;by the &lt;/span&gt;name of &lt;span style=""&gt;Mildred Wirt Benson (aka Carolyn Keene) wrote three Nancy Drew books about a small town girl solving mysteries in River Heights.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then Harriet S. Adams wrote a few more books in the series and Charles Strong wrote one.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In all there are 56 Nancy Drew books. One day, I decided to draw pictures of scenes from the games, so I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Game One: Secrets Can Kill .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Nancy goes to visit her Aunt Eloise and that is where a student is murdered in the local high school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nancy has to figure out who did it, with the help her best friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne (George is a girl, by the way). &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Also helping her is her boyfriend Ned Nickerson, who, when he says “hello” sounds just like my brother-in-law, which I think is funny. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;To make a long story short, Nancy gets stuck in the school’s basement where there is a bomb, and she has to turn it off before she can get out, which is through an air vent and that is the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;picture I drew&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77yi_IcnpI/AAAAAAAAABc/DoKAL-kGuJo/s1600-h/joeblog6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 212px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77yi_IcnpI/AAAAAAAAABc/DoKAL-kGuJo/s320/joeblog6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169836105144245906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Game Two: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Stay Tuned For Danger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Nancy gets hired as an extra on a TV show called Light of Our Love (kind of cheesy, huh?) in New York to work under cover to find out who is sending threatening notes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;and poisoned chocolates &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;to one of the actors. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So while filming an episode, one of the spotlights falls and almost hits him. After filming was done and everyone has left the set, Nancy finds a ladder that goes up to where the spotlights are, but the wheel is stuck and Nancy haves to find some &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;oil.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;When she went up the ladder, she discovered a piece of fabric and that is the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;picture I drew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77zg_IcnqI/AAAAAAAAABk/BFkIWZ9Y_3A/s1600-h/joeblog7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77zg_IcnqI/AAAAAAAAABk/BFkIWZ9Y_3A/s320/joeblog7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169837170296135330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Game Three:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Message in a Haunted Mansion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;Rose, one of Nancy’s friends, invites Nancy to help renovate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(29, 27, 17);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;an old Victorian mansion that is going to be turned into a bed and breakfast. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;However, there have been scaffolding accidents and odd things have been happening, like crying women, ghosts and whispering paintings. So Nancy puts on her detective cap and begins to play detective. At one point, Nancy walks into the front hall upstairs and looks at a mirror and sees a woman with blond hair who is dressed all in white.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77z1PIcnrI/AAAAAAAAABs/oV7mR7DsBLY/s1600-h/joespot6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 342px; height: 228px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77z1PIcnrI/AAAAAAAAABs/oV7mR7DsBLY/s320/joespot6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169837518188486322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(29, 27, 17);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(29, 27, 17);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(29, 27, 17);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(13, 13, 13);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"&gt;I hoped you liked my first new post in a long while and look forward for my next post about the next three Nancy Drew games.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-2610856682225222042?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/2610856682225222042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=2610856682225222042' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/2610856682225222042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/2610856682225222042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2008/02/moment-youve-all-been-waiting-for.html' title='The moment you’ve all been waiting for….. applause, applause, applause'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/R77rDfIcnfI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f0aTQoS8Aus/s72-c/joeblog1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-113106538491107002</id><published>2005-11-03T16:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-03T16:49:44.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the sims: babies and children</title><content type='html'>if you've heard of the sims, please comment on this post!  because i never get any comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, if you've never heard of the sims, which is probably impossible, i will tell you a few things about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's just like people, but they're on the computer.  you have to fulfill their needs, take care of them.  like hunger, bladder, comfort, hygeine, energy, fun, and stuff like that.  you manipulate them to do whatever you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is also something called, "having a baby." unlike in real life, in order to have a baby on the sims, the wife asks, "should we have a baby," and the computer chooses whether or not you have a boy or a girl.  you have to have three people take care of the baby, which would be nice in real life, but is not always possible.  there are three things you do to the baby: feeding, playing with the baby, and singing.  after the baby is asleep it will only sleep for a few "sim hours" which aren't real hours, but little hours on the computer.  after three days the healthy baby will become a boy or a girl child.  if the baby is not healthy during the three busy days of babyhood two people will come and take the baby away from the parents.  the woman will pick up the baby and the crib will disappear.  the man will zap the fridge with a gun and the fridge will disappear.  why? i always think that but i don't really ever find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when the baby grows up into a child you have to click on the bookshelf or the child won't be able to study for school.  if the child doesn't study, he or she gets an F- and suddenly the child is wearing a reform school outfit.  when the child goes to reform school the parents never see him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more on older children later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-113106538491107002?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/113106538491107002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=113106538491107002' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/113106538491107002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/113106538491107002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/11/sims-babies-and-children.html' title='the sims: babies and children'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112811307233834925</id><published>2005-09-30T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T13:44:32.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my book: a classic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/molasses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/400/molasses.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my latest obsession is boston's great molasses flood.  i plan to include a feature about it in my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My Book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had a hard time finding a name for my book but the first disaster is going to be the great chicago fire.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/great%20chicago%20fire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/400/great%20chicago%20fire.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the second disaster is the molasses flood, pictured above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the third disaster, the final one, is, of course, the great titanic tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/titanic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/400/titanic.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i ever get my book published you guys should just read it. there are sad moments, happy moments, terrifying moments, moments of distress: it's going to be a terrific read. i hope it makes the best seller list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a pen name.  i don't want to tell you what it is.  i dont' want to be stressed by people wanting my autograph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/signing%20autograph.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/400/signing%20autograph.jpg" alt="" 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/12154118-112811307233834925?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112811307233834925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112811307233834925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112811307233834925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112811307233834925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/09/my-book-classic.html' title='my book: a classic'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112706539385789882</id><published>2005-09-18T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-18T11:03:21.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>don't miss it don't even be late</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/ferris%20wheel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/400/ferris%20wheel.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last night i went to the friendship festival. it's like a fair or a carnival. almost every year they have different carnival companies running the rides. but this year it was the same people who came last year. there were a few different rides, though. i like go-carts and anything with cars, like bumper cars. last night i went on the bumper cars like fifteen times. i like it because you get to just smash into anybody and their cars. i 'd love to drive a real car but don't have my license yet. my parents say i have to be 18 years old to get my license.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the "zipper" is a little cage that twirls around and goes up and down.  it makes me want to throw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i was little i went to the fair and most of the rides made me sick. i felt nauseated and hot and dizzy. one time i got home i walked into my room and barfed all over the junk in my room. i'm glad i have parents to clean up my barf. i've never puked at the fair before. i think &lt;a href="http://www.boogiechild.blogspot.com"&gt;ben&lt;/a&gt; did before. one time i got sick and the next day i was eating a little bowl of cheese and i was watching a movie about cheese and mice and i put my hand over my mouth and nearly swallowed the barf but i ran to the bathroom and threw up on the floor. some of it came out my nose and it burned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the food at the fair is great. there's all sorts of food. last night i had some lemonade that tasted like it didn't have any sugar in it. i ate something really cool. they were like curly fries. the lady put the potato in a machine that cut it into long curls. the man asked, "do you want cheese on that?" and i said, "sure!" so he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i won a lot of prizes as i do every year. i won a cool mardis gras mask for my nephew &lt;a href="http://www.greenemama.blogspot.com"&gt;henry&lt;/a&gt; because he was bugging me about the mask that i won for myself. his is cooler than mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we had lots of fun.  it was awesome.  henry, will and i rode horses in a circle.  there were two ponies and two horses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i came home i didn't barf, thank heavens,  i watched "i love lucy," the one where she tells the truth (3rd season) for 24 hours in order to win a hundred dollars.  ricky pays her anyway, even though she tells a fib.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112706539385789882?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112706539385789882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112706539385789882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112706539385789882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112706539385789882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/09/dont-miss-it-dont-even-be-late.html' title='don&apos;t miss it don&apos;t even be late'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112467237397223065</id><published>2005-08-21T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T14:27:25.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>introducing the family: my adorable cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/jc22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/jc22.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am going to talk about my adorable cat.  i usually talk baby talk to him.  it's all he understands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my sister was at camp in ohio and the camp janitor was going to drown this little, teeny, rowdy kitten. maybe it was biting or scratching him. my sister saved him. she and he-who-will-not-be-named (old skinny boyfriend) drove him from ohio to illinois. when she got home she begged my dad to let us keep the cute little adorable cat. with all of her girlish charm she convinced my dad, who rolled his eyes and said, "okay."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we named that adorable cat john calvin (after that french dude).  here is a picture of my adorable cat's namesake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/john%20calvin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/john%20calvin.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my cat is as cuddly as ever when he's inside but is rowdy and vicious, not really vicious, but just rowdy, when he's outside. he doesn't really hurt me. well, hardly ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/jc111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/jc111.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some people might think this is kind of gross. my brother, will, was letting the cat outside and the screen door banged shut on john calvin's tail. with a terrified, shrieking meow, john calvin was stuck. will opened the door to see if he was okay. but he wasn't. he ran upstairs and on the porch was a teeny little tip of his tail. it was like a little toupe on the porch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here is a picture of a man wearing a toupe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/toupe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/toupe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(what a sick look.  he looks like a pastor i know.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112467237397223065?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112467237397223065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112467237397223065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112467237397223065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112467237397223065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/08/introducing-family-my-adorable-cat.html' title='introducing the family: my adorable cat'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112385284618761512</id><published>2005-08-12T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T06:20:46.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the unsinkable molly brown -- a home in denver</title><content type='html'>in 1894 maggie, the nickname for margaret (molly) (she had two nicknames), and her husband j.j. (the nickname for james joseph) moved to denver, colorado. their family was growing. their house was big. they had remodeled it after they moved in. they also added on more house to the original. the woman servants had their rooms in the attic of the house. the men servants had their rooms on the second floor. i think it should have been the other way around. unless they had an elevator, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/molly%20brown%20house%20in%20denver.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/molly%20brown%20house%20in%20denver.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they had indoor plumbing, which was novel in that day. each person had their own bedroom. molly's parents lived with them and they had their own room, too. they had a modern kitchen that had a butler's pantry and a cook's pantry. they also had electric lights. the house was a beautiful home. you can &lt;a href="http://www.mollybrownmuseum.com/"&gt;take a tour of it&lt;/a&gt; if you visit denver, colorado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/brown%20family.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/brown%20family.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;look forward to part three: divorce.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112385284618761512?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112385284618761512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112385284618761512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112385284618761512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112385284618761512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/08/unsinkable-molly-brown-home-in-denver.html' title='the unsinkable molly brown -- a home in denver'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112378760612371640</id><published>2005-08-11T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T12:13:26.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mayonnaise</title><content type='html'>my sister thinks mayo is made out of puke. "it is!" she says. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mom says she likes it sometimes, but not all of the time.  other people are like this, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i love mayo. ::smacking lips:: yum, yum. i love it all of the time. i just ate a mayonnaise sandwich -- two slices of bread with mayo on each slice smacked together, cut in half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my sister in law, janell, was walking by and she turned around to get another thing and she bumped right into me and one half smacked on the floor. she thinks it's gross, too. she was really disgusted because it smacked on her. i picked it up and she told me to put it in the trash. i don't know if i was going to eat it or not. so i threw it away and finished the other half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my sister doesn't want me to breathe on her.  she says that the stench of the mayo is more than she can take. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i like to drink delicious hot coffee with a little half and half and hazelnut cream and it tastes even better with a mayonnaise sandwich on the side. maybe someday i'd like to dip some pretezels in mayo; nice, gooey, creamy, mayo. my sister will not type anymore about mayo now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/mayonnaise.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/mayonnaise.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you've been a wonderful audience, folks. goodnight. since no one reads my blog, i can write about disgusting things like mayonnaise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112378760612371640?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112378760612371640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112378760612371640' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112378760612371640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112378760612371640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/08/mayonnaise.html' title='mayonnaise'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112320072363812089</id><published>2005-08-04T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T17:24:44.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the unsinkable molly brown -- my other favorite person part 1</title><content type='html'>molly tobin brown was born in the town of hannibal. she was a hillbilly. actually, that's just what i call her. she was really just a poor immigrant. she was born on july 18, 1867. molly really wanted to read and write. in the musical about her life most of the story isn't true to her life, but the lyrics about wanting to read are close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/molly%20brown%201.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/molly%20brown%201.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;i'm going to learn to read and write.&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to see what there is to see.&lt;br /&gt;if you're going nowhere on the road to somewhere&lt;br /&gt;if you meet somebody you know it's me.  (i think this is how it goes. . .)&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to move from place to place.&lt;br /&gt;find a house with a golden stair.&lt;br /&gt;and if that house is red with a big brass bed&lt;br /&gt;i'm gonna live there.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but she didn't really sing in real life. she went to a town called leadville and met james joseph brown. they fell in love but she really wanted to marry a rich man and be really wealthy. but she married him and said she'd be better off with a poor man because she loved him and didn't care about being rich. they went back to hannibal after awhile because molly was pregnant. they had a baby boy. they named him lawrence. i think that's what his name was. he was born september 1, 1886. no, that was the date she was married. sorry. lawrence was born, yeah, his name was lawrence palmer brown. he was born september 13, 1887. his nickname was larry. so they moved back to leadville and had another child, katherine ellen brown. nickname: helen. she was born july 1, 1889.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after that and a few years of marriage they struck gold.  the biggest gold strike in america.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/molly%20brown%202.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/molly%20brown%202.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;look forward to part two: a home in denver&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112320072363812089?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112320072363812089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112320072363812089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112320072363812089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112320072363812089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/08/unsinkable-molly-brown-my-other.html' title='the unsinkable molly brown -- my other favorite person part 1'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112258440633856791</id><published>2005-07-28T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-28T14:00:06.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cats</title><content type='html'>my sister has kittens.  berio and ophelia (those are their names).  berio is black with green eyes.  his sister, ophelia, is gray with green eyes.  i love them.  my sister is mad at them because one of them created a foul stench of pee.  she says that ernie will kill them with a boot when he finds out.  hopefully he doesn't read this blog.  what will happen if he does read it?  my sister says they will live outside now.  i don't want to write this but my sister is the typist.  "oh, come on, typist!" i shout.  "can we just delete that?"  ("can we just untype the part about the peeing?")  the door was shut to go to the basement to the litter box and the cats couldn't hold it any longer.  poor kittens!  how would ernie feel if he couldn't make it to the potty?  he would probably go on the floor and we'd have to make him go outside all of the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my cat at home, john calvin, goes outside a lot.  he is the most precious cat on the whole entire earth.  but in the summertime he loves being outside.  he's really wild outside.  he's striped, kind of like ophelia, but he's old.  one time my brother will was letting john calvin outside and our screen door slammed him on the tail.  and this giant shriek came out of his mouth.  will opened the door to gently see if he was okay and it was just like a little black toupe from his tail on the porch -- it had been cut off!  i went upstairs and the cat was under my parents' bed.  i couldn't see any part of his tail.  i moved something next to him and i saw blood dripping off of his tail, his poor, little, skinny bone tail.  my brother ben put him in a towel and brought him to the car and put him in a basket and we took him to the vet.  when he came home he had a special little kitty towel and my mom put him down.  ben said his tail looked like a rat tail.  they had to cut off some of his tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"please, delete this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ernie squirts them with a water bottle when they come into his studio.  the kittens run away.  ernie is a mean heartless cat hater.  my sister is blind to his evil cat-hating ways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112258440633856791?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112258440633856791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112258440633856791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112258440633856791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112258440633856791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/07/cats.html' title='cats'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112119971669958079</id><published>2005-07-12T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-12T13:21:56.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>introducing the family: grandma betty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/DSC01525.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/DSC01525.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;this is my grandma.  it looks like she has lipstick on but she doesn't wear it at all.  most of her pictures are kind of weird like this one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she lives upstairs in my house.  she just sits in her chair all day and comes down for lunch, dinner and breakfast.  she forgets a lot.  sometimes she asks a question like, "why would you want to do that?" to something i say i want to do and it's really hard to answer her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she has almost all of her teeth.  and they are all sweet teeth.  she says she doesn't have one sweet tooth at all.  but she's crazy about candy and ice cream.  if we're going to get ice cream she says, "is your dad gonna get us some sundaes (sounds like sunduhs)? ho! ho! ho!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she's not very crabby at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;her family tradition from the house she grew up in was yelling to see who can talk the loudest when everyone is talking at once.  she does that at our house, too.  i guess she passed the tradition on to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a little secret i did once -- my great aunt edith, my grandma's sister, was talking on the phone with grandma and i picked up the phone because i wanted to hear what they were saying.&lt;br /&gt;they kept yelling at the same time, over each other.  our old phone used to be broken and it had it made a crackling sound so when i put my hand over the mouthpiece so that they couldn't hear me on the phone the thing would crackle and my grandma would say, "i think someone is on the internet." and aunt edith would say, "oh, really? i didn't know that."  at the end of the conversation i put my finger in my ear and rubbed it because i almost went deaf hearing their yelling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112119971669958079?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112119971669958079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112119971669958079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112119971669958079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112119971669958079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/07/introducing-family-grandma-betty.html' title='introducing the family: grandma betty'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-112111549776560230</id><published>2005-07-11T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T13:58:17.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my lifetime dream</title><content type='html'>my lifetime dream is to try to get into show-business. it is. first i will get into a play and then make it to broadway. and someday i hope that there will be some famous producer, you know, from a movie, that will come and will see me and will want me to do a screen test. and then i will be in movies. with famous movie stars like liv tyler &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/liv2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/liv2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and lindsay lohan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/lindsey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/lindsey.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what's her name, from the titanic -- kate winslet. leonardo's a lucky dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/leokate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/leokate.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's too bad marilyn monroe is already dead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/marilyn%20monroe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/marilyn%20monroe.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or judy garland -- i'd love to star opposite her. my sister says she had a moustache and i can see it when i watch "the harvey girls."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/1600/judy2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4742/1015/320/judy2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;since my dream will never come true i will just get into plays and that's it. my sister says that i have to learn to pay attention to almost everything to get into plays. i have a hard time paying attention at all. maybe i could pay my sister to let me be in one of her plays. maybe there could be someone that looks just like me who could be my stunt-double or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-112111549776560230?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/112111549776560230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=112111549776560230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112111549776560230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/112111549776560230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-lifetime-dream.html' title='my lifetime dream'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-111870231523025579</id><published>2005-06-13T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-13T15:38:35.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>introducing the family: my mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.fromtheprairie.blogspot.com"&gt;my mother&lt;/a&gt; is desperately in love with pink.  pink anything.  here is a picture of her taken today.  she is in the backyard of my sister's house.  she is wearing pink.  her toenails are even painted pink. but the toenails are not in this picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;code&gt;&lt;img src="http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b159/joecampbell/DSC03473.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she likes to talk on the phone a lot.  she loves old fashioned things like, you know, old houses, stuff like that.  she loves chocolate.  she likes to eat it while watching "i love lucy."  she has four seasons of "lucy" on dvd.  if the next season has not come out she pre-orders it and it comes to us when it's available.  she is very excited when she finds out the next one is coming out soon.  she just gets hyper, prancing around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-111870231523025579?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/111870231523025579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=111870231523025579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111870231523025579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111870231523025579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/06/introducing-family-my-mother.html' title='introducing the family: my mother'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-111825067779697799</id><published>2005-06-08T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-08T10:11:17.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my southern ways</title><content type='html'>southern tea.  when we have iced tea i just have to have it sweetened.  even though i was born and raised in the north i still love sweetened tea.  i don't remember the first time i had it.  maybe it was when my brother in law ernie came over.  he drinks sweet tea.  his whole family does at their house.  maybe someone southern will comment about sweet tea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;code&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.hartleysbrand.com/images/ICE-TEA-PICTURE.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;every time i put sugar into a glass of iced tea i always put too much.  i just can't stand it, i love sugar.  i'm a kid.  i always had to have sugar i hot tea, too, but i don't really do that anymore.  i just drink it plain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i take a drink of southern tea my mouth rejoices.  my throat just enjoys the sweetness and the coldness of southern tea.  when it hits my stomach it's just this cold sugar feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mom won't make sweet tea for me.  she makes it for ernie sometimes.  my mom doesn't like sweet tea.  when she was little her aunt edith would paint in my grandma's house.  and my grandma would make this special, some kind of tea with lots and lots and lots of sugar.  and one time my great aunt edith didn't want it so she gave it to my mom and my mom got very sick.  and that's a true story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she doesn't care if i drink it as long as she puts the sugar in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my sister makes sweet tea.  she has a pitcher full of it in her refrigerator.  she drinks unsweetened tea, though.  the pitcher for ernie.  and sometimes for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-111825067779697799?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/111825067779697799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=111825067779697799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111825067779697799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111825067779697799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-southern-ways.html' title='my southern ways'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-111661089199950430</id><published>2005-05-20T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-20T10:41:32.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>swing your partner</title><content type='html'>i ride with a friend, cara, and her sister, emily.  and ben, my brother.  this last time we went to this, i think it was kind of like an old, abandoned boy scout camp because it had this little cabin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there are these two old ladies that look like they were teenagers in the 1930's because they had these little dresses like the lady pictured below. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;code&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.safeplace.net/jpmorgen/dad_sue.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the ladies were dancing together all of the time.  they were having a real good time.  one of the ladies was my "neighbor" during one of the dances.  she had these long fingernail, real long.  and everytime she took my hand she would squeeze it and stick her fingernail straight into my skin.  and after me and my partner got on the very end i started laughing and looking at the hole in my hand.  i don't know which hand it was now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know.  there are a lot of people to dance with.  once i went to a barn dance and danced with this lady whose hand was so sweaty that we were hold hands for part of it and as soon as we let go i had to wipe my hands on my pants.  sick.  there was another lady one time whose hands were so cold that a chill went up and down my spine.  i'm serious.  it was so cold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pretty girls to dance with.  there aren't many.  most of the girls dance together for most of the dances.  i don't know why.  i don't.  there's a girl i used to dance with who wore high heels and fell down all of the time.  then she took her shoes off and danced barefoot.  she was pretty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-111661089199950430?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/111661089199950430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=111661089199950430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111661089199950430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111661089199950430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/05/swing-your-partner.html' title='swing your partner'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-111584363716686076</id><published>2005-05-11T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T13:35:16.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sink me!</title><content type='html'>i don't how i got obsessed with it -- it just happened. i've been studying everything about the Titanic. books, movies, photos, blueprints, the internet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've looked up nearly every survivor. on the passenger list is listed "the unsinkable Molly Brown" who married a guy and they struck it rich. Molly Brown left her husband and went to Paris. i think. later she got on the Titanic to go home back to him. Molly Brown survived by getting into the 16th life boat. she threatened to throw the only man off of the life boat because he wouldn't let the women row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. and Mrs. John Jacob Aster were going from Egypt to Paris, and later to the Titanic. Mrs. Aster was pregnant. She was Mr. Aster's second wife, the second Mrs. Aster (her husband was divorced to the first Mrs. Aster). She got into the lifeboat by putting a deck chair over the A-Promenade window. then she slid into the lifeboat because she was five months pregnant. when Mr. Aster sank with the Titanic he left his pregnant wife and son. i don't know if he had other kids. his son came out of the white star line office and hid his tears by covering his face with his hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe this is the view Molly Brown and Mrs. Aster saw from their life boats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;code&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v470/molliegreene/Titanic.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-111584363716686076?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/111584363716686076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=111584363716686076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111584363716686076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111584363716686076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/05/sink-me.html' title='sink me!'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-111534183101625421</id><published>2005-05-05T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-05T18:10:31.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>napoleon dynamite and the titanic</title><content type='html'>i did this thing on the internet, this quiz to see who you are from napoleon dynamite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was napoleon.  i thought this was really funny that i was able to choose everything that napoleon would do, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was told about napoleon dynamite by a friend of mine.  he had seen it like five times already. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am like napoleon because i like to draw.  instead of drawing ligers i draw detailed drawings of the sinking titanic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tape together paper models of the titanic.  i made a grand staircase just this afternoon.  the thing falls over if it is not propped up against the wall or the side of the piano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am also working on a to-scale model of the titanic with my dad in the basement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-111534183101625421?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/111534183101625421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=111534183101625421' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111534183101625421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111534183101625421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/05/napoleon-dynamite-and-titanic.html' title='napoleon dynamite and the titanic'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WxwxNskHPbY/SQ20jKhoFcI/AAAAAAAAACY/nTmZ1_S5TAY/S220/freaky+Joe.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12154118.post-111341792103819688</id><published>2005-04-13T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-06T06:06:05.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this is my blog</title><content type='html'>this is my blog.  i hope to write about napoleon dynamite, the titanic, and my favorite piano teacher.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12154118-111341792103819688?l=unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/feeds/111341792103819688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12154118&amp;postID=111341792103819688' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111341792103819688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12154118/posts/default/111341792103819688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://unsinkablejoe.blogspot.com/2005/04/this-is-my-blog.html' title='this is my blog'/><author><name>unsinkablejoe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18171506852901630087</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' 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