<?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-7655600</id><updated>2011-04-22T01:27:15.180-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Might Just Be A Philosopher</title><subtitle type='html'>This ain't no country club</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7655600.post-113942509717801046</id><published>2006-02-06T17:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T13:58:17.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truths Of Good Looking Guy!</title><content type='html'>1.  In the first Good Looking Guy movie, Good Looking Guy gets into a relationship with a character by the name of Cassandra...The actress that played Cassandra was actually the twin sister of the actor that played Good Looking Guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Cassandra ended up Dieing at sea while sailing on a boat with Good Looking Guy...or did she?  After the supposed death of Cassandra the audience was introduced to a new character by the name of Papoofta.  Nobody realized it but the girl who played Papoofta was in fact the same actress who played Cassandra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  There was one Good Looking Guy film that took place at the Jones Production House but it did not catch on at all just like most films that are recorded at that House Studio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  The actress that played Martha was very rebellious and difficult.  The director would explain to her and tell her how to say certain lines but she would just say them however she wanted after doing multiple takes.  Also as Good Looking Guy had Dr. Feefo, Cloey, and Martha cornered, Martha said that she had to go tinkle.  But she really didn't have to and the password was definately not tinkle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  During a scene where Good Looking Guy is a little blue he begins to speak Irishy.  Then out of no where the actress that played Martha yells "You're not Irish."  But that is a false statement because the actor that does play Good Looking Guy does in fact have some Irish running through his blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  The Power Ball that Dr. Feefo and Cloey were after was in fact a exercise ball with just a piece of paper taped to it that read "Power Ball".  It had no power what so ever.  Also there was no possible way you could replace a human being with a so called "Power Ball" without the alarm going off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Shooby was not an official licesed hair styalyst and over charged customers.  Some people believe that Shooby was a female character but the truth is that the actor that played Good Looking Guy also played the role of Shooby.  Also, Aunt Linda stole the idea of Shooby but will never be able to actually fill the role.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  When Good Looking Guy and Papoofta were trying to save the world from a missle that was about to hit the earth they were actually on a stool that they pretended to be the missle.  This is evident because whoever was filming that scene did a horrible job and the audience could easily see the stool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  The director told the actress that played Papoofta to act "giddy" in one of the scenes and the actress tried really hard to act the part but looked rediculous trying to act "giddy".  The director would just throw the actress that played Cloey and the actress that played Papoofta into random parts just to pass the time and because he felt bad for them.  They weren't very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Migity is not really a word!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-113942509717801046?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/113942509717801046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=113942509717801046' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/113942509717801046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/113942509717801046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2006/02/truths-of-good-looking-guy.html' title='The Truths Of Good Looking Guy!'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-113909486783598214</id><published>2006-02-04T17:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-04T18:14:27.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>Its weird how you only notice change when its for the bad. I'm pretty sure I hate change more than anybody in the world. I get so used to a certain thing or feeling and when it ends it pisses me off. Things change, people change and as much as I want to see it stay the same there is nothing that I or any other person can do about it. How can somebody just sit there and watch a good thing slip away from them? At the rate that this is going nothing is ever gonna be the way it was before and just the thought of that sucks. If everything ends up changing then what's the point of working hard at anything in life? It will only change on you later. I try my hardest not to change but it kills me to watch everything change around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life changes on a daily bases&lt;br /&gt;Every minute every hour still we try to save it&lt;br /&gt;But I gotta keep moving and make it&lt;br /&gt;Heaven good, Lord knows life is crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-Changes-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Juelz Santana feat. Razah&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-113909486783598214?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/113909486783598214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=113909486783598214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/113909486783598214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/113909486783598214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2006/02/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-112890292821339407</id><published>2005-10-09T20:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-10-09T20:08:48.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>WE CAN LIVE LIKE KINGS!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Being male, middle classed, and white, I feel that I shouldn't have to work hard in order to be rich in life.  While viewing a television program on the MIT college blackjack team and how they were strategizing to beat the casino system, my eyes lit up and realized that I want to be a professional gambler.  Some reasons why I would want to professionally gamble for a living;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1.  I would get to make my own hours&lt;br /&gt;2.  I would get to travel the globe&lt;br /&gt;3.  I wouldn't have to dress up in a suit (but can if I want to)&lt;br /&gt;4.  If I got really good I would make a TON of money!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;...and those are just some of the reasons.&lt;br /&gt;The MIT blackjack team used a strategy called "counting cards" along with other blackjack methods, which was proven to improve your chances on WINNING.  I think to myself and say "self, this is a golden opportunity to make a ton of money.  Also making this money could be used to pay off your college tuition, pay for your moms new kitchen, buy somebody a car , and never have to work again."  I feel that this is the path that I must take.  If you are interested in joining my team please contact me ASAP.  I am currently in the proccess of making shirts for our team so I will need your shirt size.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you very much for your time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-112890292821339407?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/112890292821339407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=112890292821339407' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112890292821339407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112890292821339407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/10/we-can-live-like-kings.html' title='WE CAN LIVE LIKE KINGS!!!'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-112780025187729478</id><published>2005-09-27T01:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T01:50:51.906-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Childhood Memory</title><content type='html'>In the early 1990's I attended one of those lame birthday parties at the bowling alley.  I usually hate these types of parties because EVERYTIME the birthday boy/girl cries because they aren't doing good for some strange reason, and when the parents serve pizza, it never fills you up because there are too many mouths to feed.  After finishing my one and only piece my curiosity got the best of me and I wandered along the creepy path that led to the back of the alley.  When I crossed the threshold signifying the front from the back I was mezmorized by the glorious image before me.  It was hard to even describe the image with words but if I had to then I would have to say it was similar to the "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" scene where all the kids run and eat the candy while Agustus falls into the chocolate river and is sucked through the pipes (poor Agustus).  As I slowly make my way along the path made of bowling ball material, I notice something moving in the bowling pin bush.  I get very scared at first but then mustered up the courage to yell "hey you, get outta that bowling pin bush."   The shortest man that I have ever seen then became visible to me.  As I just stand there, awestruck by how short this little bitch is, I realize that he seems rather fermiliar to me.  Finally it came to me, the short man was Adam's friend Rick.  With my girlish non-puberty hitting voice I said, "Rick you old scaliwag, I never knew you worked in back of a bowling alley."  Then Rick replied in his Australian accent, "I don't work here mate, I've lived here for 18,309 years, along with many others of my kind."  Then he paused looked around and said, "Its ok everyone, it is safe to come out, and you can bring your Fosters with you."  To much of my amazement I see many little people with handlebar mustaches come out of the bowling pin bushes.  Seeing this scared the shit out of me, so quietly I said, "fuck this I don't feel like getting stabbed today," and went back the way I came as quickly as I could.  When I got back to the party everyone asked me where I had gone off to.  So I told them the whole story not leaving out a single detail.  Everyone laughed at me and called me an Idiot-Jerk.  I shrugged off their verbal abuse and then regained my composure.  That is when I bowled my first perfect game...thats right...a score of 300.  I never went back to that creepy bowling alley ever again but knew that someday Rick and I would meet again in the future!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-112780025187729478?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/112780025187729478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=112780025187729478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112780025187729478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112780025187729478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/09/childhood-memory.html' title='Childhood Memory'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-112149440476868995</id><published>2005-07-16T02:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-16T02:13:24.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Complete 360</title><content type='html'>Attending my father's wedding tonight made me realize how much of an asshole I am.  I haven't really gotten along with his girlfriend at all because I kinda felt like I was betraying my mom in some way.  I thought that my dad just devorced my mom and found just any women to replace her with.  Going to this wedding changed all my thoughts on that because I can see that he loves her.  I gotta stop being so damn selfish and accept the changes that are happening.  Times are always going to changes, and the character of a man is shown by how he deals with these changes.  Now I'm not sayin that we are gonna be one big happy family and its all gonna have a happy ending,  but I will be nicer to her and cut her some slack.  Its the least I could do.  I guess it takes something this big, like a wedding, to persuade my thoughts on a person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-112149440476868995?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/112149440476868995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=112149440476868995' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112149440476868995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112149440476868995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/07/complete-360.html' title='Complete 360'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-112062455927204323</id><published>2005-07-06T00:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T01:02:38.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Tuesday Night</title><content type='html'>Like every Tuesday evening, my friends and I went to Cavallos for "Wing Night". After we finished eating we realized that it was still early and the night was still young. So we all decided to go up to Erik's camp in Forest Port. As usual we played around with gasoline and did &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Ring Of Fire&lt;/span&gt; (that shit never gets old). On our way home Doug went 113 mph down the express way in his &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Light Blue&lt;/span&gt; 1995 Honda Accord. Anyways there is this knocked down One Way sign that we have been planning to take for a few weeks now and never got around to doing it. So we decided that tonight would be the best night to do it. As we pull up to the sign Danny P. gets out and shoves the whole sign, post and all, in the trunk of Doug's car. So we drove up Clinton St. with a one way sign hanging out from the back. Now the sign is currently leaning up in my garage and will stay there until we figure out somethin to do with it. I would have to say that tonight was a pretty successful night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/4107/640/100_1603.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/4107/320/100_1603.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just sitting there asking to be stolen!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-112062455927204323?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/112062455927204323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=112062455927204323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112062455927204323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112062455927204323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/07/just-another-tuesday-night.html' title='Just Another Tuesday Night'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-112054599377480876</id><published>2005-07-04T02:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T02:57:40.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Brisk Baby</title><content type='html'>I sit here staring at the last Lipton Brisk Lemon Iced Tea that came from my refridgerator. While I stare, I begin to ponder, and many question pop into my brain like Why do I like this beverage so much? and If Brisk Iced Tea was boiled in a pot would it still be called Brisk Iced Tea? I'm not quite sure why I like Brisk so much and I don't know what it would be called if it was boiled in a pot. But I do know one thing though, once it hits my lips my eyes light up like a 7 year old orphan boy on Christmas Morning. It quenches my thirst on a hot sunny summers day. I don't think Brisk Iced Tea gets enough credit as it should. People talk about how Snapple is sooooo good and so much better. All I have to say to those people is fuck Snapple, it tastes like shit, I'd rather drink my own urine. I'm just trying to show the world how much I love Lipton Brisk Lemon Iced Tea and I recommend it to Americans of all ages. Thank you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/4107/640/100_15961.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/278/4107/320/100_15961.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It goes down Smooth&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-112054599377480876?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/112054599377480876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=112054599377480876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112054599377480876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112054599377480876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/07/brisk-baby_04.html' title='Brisk Baby'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-112025139911665697</id><published>2005-07-01T16:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-07-01T16:56:39.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I'm afraid of stickers</title><content type='html'>They are just so sticky.  Is it wrong that whenever I see a sticker I cringe?  I am 6'1" 195 lbs. and i am afraid of stickers.  I'm comfortable admitting it to the world.  Most common people are afraid of &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;spiders or snakes&lt;/span&gt;, yet i am not.  Maybe if i learned about how they make stickers then they wouldn't be that scary anymore.  A sticker that I dislike specifically is the ones that Price Chopper puts on your bag after you've paid for your groceries.  I HATE THEM because they are that stupid &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;bright orange&lt;/span&gt; color and when you try to peel them off, they don't usually come off all in one piece.  I can't really explain why I am afraid of these stupid things.  They just creep me out.  I think I need to see a psychiatrist to work me through this issue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-112025139911665697?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/112025139911665697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=112025139911665697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112025139911665697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/112025139911665697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/07/why-im-afraid-of-stickers.html' title='Why I&apos;m afraid of stickers'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-111899214524128179</id><published>2005-06-17T02:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-17T03:09:05.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'>College</title><content type='html'>Tonight made me realize that college isn't too far away.  Knowing that 3 out of the 9 people that i partied with tonight are going to Siena with me, made me feel comfortable to leave.  The only thing that is making me want to stay is the friends that i've had for the last 9 years.  I know that going to college is the next step and everyone is doing it, but i can't help but think that going to college might cause the end of the 5 best friends that i have.  We've been through it all and i don't think i could ever make friends like them ever again.  It seems like yesterday that we were playin sports and havin sleep overs.  I will never forget those days.  I don't want to grow up.  I want time to stop and i want to stay this age forever.  It will never be like this ever again.  I hope that when i come back from college I will get a taste of the past and remember all the good times that we had.  But right now I shouldn't be dwelling on the future that is to come i should be living it up, Summer SauceFest 2005!!!  DTX- My boyz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-111899214524128179?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/111899214524128179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=111899214524128179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/111899214524128179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/111899214524128179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/06/college.html' title='College'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-111899040155105305</id><published>2005-06-17T02:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-17T02:40:01.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelin good</title><content type='html'>I'm sittin at my computer on a Friday early early morning because i just got home.  My day was awesome because we started off by goin to Hinckley Lake to celebrate the end of HIGH SCHOOL!!! we also celebrated Dan Kinney's Birthday.  After that i came home and played some video games with my friends then they left and I took a nap.  After my nap i went to D-labs house to party some more.  We all left her house at around 12:15 and Weller and I went to his house and played some 2004 NCAA Football.  He beat my drunk ass     21-14.  At around 1:40 we picked Oddy up and we all went home.  It was quite a fun day and i must say HAPPY 18th BDAY KINNEY!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-111899040155105305?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/111899040155105305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=111899040155105305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/111899040155105305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/111899040155105305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/06/feelin-good.html' title='Feelin good'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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-7655600.post-111586748134031523</id><published>2005-05-12T02:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T23:12:09.266-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cousin Approval</title><content type='html'>I sit here wallowing in my own emptiness browsing at the blogs of my 2 cousins. One has a blog that is more comical and happy. The other has a blog about the troubles in his life and how sometimes he is meloncolly. Yet they both have something in common that I do not. As I am coming to a crossroads in my life I am noticing that I don't play a cool instrument, I don't have long cool rocker hair, and i lack the writing skills that both cousin A and cousin B obviously possess. Now I know what many of you are thinking right now. Matt you have a good life. You are atheletic, rediculously good looking, and an all around good kid. But i'm more than that. I have feelings and a strong urge to be accepted in this cold cruel world. Now cousin A has his comedy and cousin B has his gift of writing. But where do i come in? I want to be cousin C and i want cousin A and B to be proud of me. We would all be so good together and people could call us the ABC cousins. I don't know what I will write about in the future but I can tell you this, It will make you laugh and make you cry (but not at the same time though, thats too hard to do). So keep it real! Focker Out&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7655600-111586748134031523?l=wborodtx.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/feeds/111586748134031523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7655600&amp;postID=111586748134031523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/111586748134031523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7655600/posts/default/111586748134031523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wborodtx.blogspot.com/2005/05/cousin-approval.html' title='Cousin Approval'/><author><name>Matt</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12937081638046258136</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></feed>
