<?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-26623786</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:33:57.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Horrible</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mr. H</name><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>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26623786.post-115017634502787171</id><published>2006-06-12T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T22:25:45.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Insomnia: Santa's Worst Enemy</title><content type='html'>6.13- It's 12:15 AM. The three people currently residing in this household have something in common besides the same last name, marital status, and tendenancy to plan out conversations in their heads. It is the fact that they are all awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A wise man said "I eat... and breathe insomnia." Okay, he's not that wise. That was me. I don't get it- today I went through a vigorous excercise routine (even more draining than my typical button-clicking excercise), drank little caffiene, and have absolutely no desire to go to sleep. In fact, I'm more awake than when I woke up. Honestly, that's not very new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The insomnia has driven us to desperate measures. We have rummaged through our storage closet, finding old costumes and old pictures. Then we went overboard. We started discussing internet forums. In detail. I don't know if there's anything more crazy. Right now, I'm trying to get to sleep. I don't think that will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wide Awake,&lt;br /&gt;Mr. H&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26623786-115017634502787171?l=mrhorrible.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/feeds/115017634502787171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26623786&amp;postID=115017634502787171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default/115017634502787171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default/115017634502787171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/2006/06/insomnia-santas-worst-enemy.html' title='Insomnia: Santa&apos;s Worst Enemy'/><author><name>Mr. H</name><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-26623786.post-114999570824105577</id><published>2006-06-10T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T20:15:08.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I think my brain is turning to mush. Or maybe cupcakes. Yum.</title><content type='html'>Sorry for the lack of updates. I've been busy... being lazy. I'll try to remain more faithful to my blog. Or should my blog be more faithful to me? I hear dogs are pretty faithful.&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.10-A little while ago, I walked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and got out a plate. This seems innoncent enough until you realize I was fixing myself a bowl of cereal. At least I didn't pour the milk first this time. (I don't care what you say, you are totally wrong if you think the cereal can come second.) Just a few minutes ago, I missed the stairs going up to watch some T.V. Then I missed the railing as I fell. Twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What could be the cause of this rapid loss in my brain's ability to function? Simple. I blame cupcakes. No, not the yummy kind, but the doll. In case you have not seen the commercial, it looks like a cupcake. Until you find out the truth. In disguise, it's a doll. Worst cupcake EVER! What could have possibly spawned the idea for this insane dolls? Perhaps it's a plot to reduce anorexia nervosa in young girls. Perhaps it's to trick me into wanting a cupcake every time I see the commercial. Either way, these alleged "cupcakes" are no good. They will get their own not-so-comfy spot on the "no good" list right between soccer and Operas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so since I've got some space to fill up, I'm going to talk about obsession. Specifically with T.V. shows. Yes, you know who you are. You have a wallpaper of a fictional character as your desktop on this very computer I am typing with right now. Sure, it's a great T.V. show, but you go to message boards to talk about what will happen in the final season. You go to the actors' MySpaces and post comments like "OmGsH! i &lt;3 u sO mUcH!!!1!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's what I don't get. People say video games are corrupting the youth, but at least in video games you control what's going on. The other option is staring at the tube while your brain cells slowly deteriorate. Maybe if you turned it off, and really listened, you could hear them screaming as they die. I don't think I've made enough to make this a long blog post, but Jimmy crack corn. Alright, I'm done for tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over and Out,&lt;br /&gt;Mr. H&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26623786-114999570824105577?l=mrhorrible.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/feeds/114999570824105577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26623786&amp;postID=114999570824105577&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default/114999570824105577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default/114999570824105577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-think-my-brain-is-turning-to-mush-or.html' title='I think my brain is turning to mush. Or maybe cupcakes. Yum.'/><author><name>Mr. H</name><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-26623786.post-114792332886627568</id><published>2006-05-17T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T20:26:53.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All my friends are pirateheads</title><content type='html'>5.17-Okay, I admit it. I'm a nerd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. They also say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I think it's going to be a rough 1000 miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been playing video games since about the age of three. Back then, I held a sega Genesis controller in my little hands and probably had no idea what I was doing. But I enjoyed it. For Christmas of 1996 or 1997, my brother and I recieved an N64 and a copy of Goldeneye: 007. I had played my friend's NES and SNES once or twice, and had already gotten close to Nintendo. Emotionally, not physically. The N64 is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. And the worst. No, not worst. And actually second greatest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister's ex-boyfriend, Leo, who is probably the coolest guy I know (besides Jeff), one day brought over a game of his for the N64. It was called The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. This was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. This game is quite simply the reason I still play video games today. If you have never played it before, I'd recommend you do. It will change your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the point is, now, 9 or 10 years later, here I am with a Gamecube, a DS, and 5 versions of the Gameboy. But my nerdiness has expanded beyond the realm of gaming- no, wait, it hasn't. Well, not much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I'm not a "fanboy". I don't like Nintendo more than Microsoft. Sony, yes, Microsoft, no. I'm saving up money for a 360 and a Wii. In case you didn't know, the Wii is Nintendo's next system. I'm not going to say a word. So anyways, I've been pretty tolerant when it comes to games for a certain system. However, there is one issue that can split nerd couples forever: The Pirates vs. Ninjas debate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't see why this ever came up in the first place. Ninjas are WAY cooler than Pirates. Sure, Pirates have guns and boats and cannons and steal treasure, but Ninjas have swords and metal stars and the really cool ones can turn invisible or fly. I may seem a little biased, but this is the one subject of which I think everyone has a stance. I don't believe it's possible to like Ninjas and Pirates equally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where am I going with this? I have no idea. But when it comes right down to it, Robots beat them both. Why? Because robots aren't human.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26623786-114792332886627568?l=mrhorrible.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/feeds/114792332886627568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26623786&amp;postID=114792332886627568&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default/114792332886627568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26623786/posts/default/114792332886627568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrhorrible.blogspot.com/2006/05/all-my-friends-are-pirateheads.html' title='All my friends are pirateheads'/><author><name>Mr. H</name><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></feed>
