<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220</id><updated>2009-10-16T18:33:42.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BoatcHecker</title><subtitle type='html'>life is short.  boatcheck it.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-5250724505029493898</id><published>2008-10-09T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T00:53:02.368-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Four Score, and 11 months ago....</title><content type='html'>HELLLLOOOOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HEELLLLLOOOO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM MISTER ED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four Score and eleven months ago, our blogfather brought forth to this internet, a new creation, conceived in mary jane, in dedication to the winterization that all boats are created equal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, that's right l's &amp;amp; g's.....I have hacked into my old boatchecker account and am going to take this blog for a cruise around the high seas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea how I got into this blog.  It's a Christmas miracle really.  Speaking of Christmas miracles, I remember when The Blogfather, The Human Head and I ate some mushrooms at kyles loft.  after providing commentary for a zombie movie, i proved everyone wrong about something on Dick Tracy (the movie).  Don't ask what it was because i have no earthly fucking idea.  Anyway, after the movie, the blogfather killed christmas.  in the nativity scene, he knocked an angel off the top of the nativity scene and killed all the sheep and shepards, and sent baby jesus flying from his crib.  I just reread that last sentence, and the first thing that popped into my head was that movie "Throw Momma from the Train."  Weirdly enough, that is the second time i've been reminded of that movie today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of locomotives and mothers, my upstairs neighbors sound like a herd of elephants.  i pretty much accidentally told them that one day.  my roommate conveniently overlooked to tell me that the guys who worked in the dj store below us also live above us.  so i was in the store a couple days after i moved in talking to them about random shit, and they were like, "oh do you live above us?" and i said ya, and they apologized for the noise.  I said, "oh no problem at all.  You guys are absolutely nothing compared to our upstairs neighbors....they are ridiculous."  then they informed me that they were my upstairs neighbors.  everyone laughed uncomfortably. foot in mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate when i say things like foot in the mouth, because it prompts me to do two things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A) wonder what the fucking origin of the saying is and how long its been around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B) picture the fucking saying being acted out.  so i think about someones foot actually being stuck into their own mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's the big deal?  I'm not sure...it's not like its really that inconvenient to stop and think about it for a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just realized one of the greatest inventions of the last five minutes.  GUSHERS.  My roommate went to visit her friend in Wisconsin who works for General Mills, and now we have a shit ton of random food.  GUSHERS included.  So i have to get some right now.  brb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, so i went to the cabinet of joy and i returned with the following things:  Gushers, Chex Mix (two flavors - strawberry cheesecake or some shit and chocolate turtle), four candy corn, a reeses peices peanut butter cup and a glass of pink fuckin lemonade.  hell to the yessir.  i've died and gone to stoner heaven.  except for the fact that these pretzels are making me thirsty and pink lemonade will fuck a nigga up if she ain't prepared for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you have reached the end of this blog, but i highly encourage you to check out the postings from last november.  a different time of life, that was.  kinda feels like four score and seven years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cinemasterpieces.com/dicktracymay07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.cinemasterpieces.com/dicktracymay07.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/1546223856961986220-5250724505029493898?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/5250724505029493898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=5250724505029493898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5250724505029493898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5250724505029493898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2008/10/four-score-and-11-months-ago.html' title='Four Score, and 11 months ago....'/><author><name>mister ed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14832598899262633146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11948521628526601450'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-281775315702740221</id><published>2007-12-10T23:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T01:55:34.717-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold the Onions</title><content type='html'>I'm not too picky of an eater, although there are a few common tastes and textures that I don't get down with. I say no to most sweets, licorice, gum drops, and only select types of chocolate will be lucky enough to get kissed by my sexy smackers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am only reserved to a few types of vegetables. For the most part I will eat/drink anything you tell me won't kill me (and some things that will).&lt;br /&gt;I'll have nothing to do with mushrooms no matter how you heat em. Onions can be tolerated if they are in soup or used for flavoring somehow. But mushrooms, fuck that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this morning when I woke up and went to have my usual 8am coffee and eggs (scrambled with cheese please) with my old Vietnam Veteran jungle buddy Joe Gummo at our local VFW Denny's, I began to remember my dreams from the night of sleep prior to this coffee talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered dreaming about going to a sound studio in a tall building and watching a local band practice. The band was not so good. First of all their only instrument was a guitar which they passed in a circle and they were so lazy that they didn't even stand while performing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While there I rearranged someones doll house while sitting outside next to a tree. This doll house seemed to be an antique toy of some kind. It was all wooden and there were farm animals included in the set. I don't think most kids give a darn about wooden toys or stupid dummy head farm animals these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the dream or what I remember as being the end I had asked the back up guitarist if there was anything to eat because my belly was a rumblin' and all he had to offer was some chocolate covered onions. I had never tried this style of onions before but since I can tolerate the funky little tear jerkers in some circumstances I figured that I would at least give these a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not bad. I'm just happy that my only option wasn't stupid fucking mushrooms!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: right; font-size: 8px;"&gt;Blogged with &lt;a href="http://www.flock.com/blogged-with-flock" title="Flock" target="_new"&gt;Flock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-281775315702740221?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/281775315702740221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=281775315702740221' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/281775315702740221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/281775315702740221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/12/hold-onions.html' title='Hold the Onions'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='14237851068584008592'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-5424045714997739887</id><published>2007-12-09T20:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T20:23:04.031-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just checking..................</title><content type='html'>to see if this is really as convenient as it seems.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;p style="text-align: right; font-size: 8px"&gt;Blogged with &lt;a href="http://www.flock.com/blogged-with-flock" title="Flock" target="_new"&gt;Flock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-5424045714997739887?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/5424045714997739887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=5424045714997739887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5424045714997739887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5424045714997739887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/12/just-checking.html' title='Just checking..................'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='14237851068584008592'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-6812733873545759059</id><published>2007-12-09T20:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T20:08:07.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flockin' A!</title><content type='html'>I just started to use the newest and most bestist web browser in the galaxy thanks to my tech support and friend the Cyber Soldier a.k.a. The Human Head. That is pretty much all I have to say right now so soak it up blogmeisters.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;p style="text-align: right; font-size: 8px"&gt;Blogged with &lt;a href="http://www.flock.com/blogged-with-flock" title="Flock" target="_new"&gt;Flock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-6812733873545759059?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/6812733873545759059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=6812733873545759059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6812733873545759059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6812733873545759059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/12/flockin.html' title='Flockin&amp;#39; A!'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='14237851068584008592'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-2544821438482376478</id><published>2007-12-07T03:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T00:50:06.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CHICKEN POT PIE</title><content type='html'>it's been a while since my last blog. i took a hiatus because i was afraid i was becoming a pothead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i thought it might be safe to smoke again, as i was out of the pothead zone, but now i'm right back where i started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hid from a bum tonight.  i was on my way home tonight around 4:00am after smoking after work, and as i was walking in my building, i saw a bum coming in my direction.  all i could think about was a story The Human Head told me at lunch today.  apparently, when him and his friends ate mushrooms a couple years ago, they left a loft building downtown to go out.  well, while walking to the bar, they saw a bunch of bums coming at them.  convinced the bums were after them, they started calling them 'bum missals.'  so i saw this bum missal coming at me, so i jumped behind a concrete wall.  in plain view of the bum missal.  i realized that should the bum missal have chosen to activate, i would have been screwed.  because i was in no shape to combat bum missals, much less figure out a better plan than jumping behind a wall while he was looking at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;speaking of missals, apparently chicken pot pie would make a really good weapon.  whether it is frozen or hot, you could put it in a cannon and do some pretty major damage.  especially if its hot.  because it has been proven (by unanimous decision of the founders of this blog) that chicken pot pie is the hottest food ever. no matter what, it never, ever cools down.  and this raises a pretty important question.  if the pot pie is left in tact as a pie forever, and none of the heat escapes, will it remain hot forever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the subject of chicken, the other night i got on my elevator at 2am, and there were six fried chicken legs.  the next morning i got on the elevator again, and there was one chicken leg and three chicken bones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-2544821438482376478?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/2544821438482376478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=2544821438482376478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/2544821438482376478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/2544821438482376478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/12/chicken-pot-pie.html' title='CHICKEN POT PIE'/><author><name>mister ed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14832598899262633146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11948521628526601450'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-4231837017350459575</id><published>2007-12-07T02:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T03:02:55.793-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FACTORY SET.</title><content type='html'>It was ice ice baby outside tonight so the ale house that I work at was slow, and aside from serving the 3 groups of total freaks who were in there, we didn't really have much to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 1&lt;br /&gt;==========&lt;br /&gt;Group 1 consisted of 3 horny young dorks and 1 girl who looked like a real life bratz doll.  The guys' goal was to get the brat drunk and have sex with her.  Before they left, the girl left us a present in the men's bathroom sink in the form of vomit.  She is currently being raped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 2&lt;br /&gt;==========&lt;br /&gt;Group 2 was only 2 people, so not really a group.  They weren't too bad.  They actually did nothing wrong and the only reason they were weird was because the girl works at After diner.  That place is rank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GROUP 3&lt;br /&gt;==========&lt;br /&gt;The third and final group was on lots of cocaine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music played through headphones is fucking awesome.  I am listening to Bat For Lashes and it feels like it is listening to me.  What does that even mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fur-Gold-Bat-Lashes/dp/B000RHRFUO/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=music&amp;qid=1197025192&amp;sr=8-1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51kmO%2BIdgCL._AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm probably going to change my myspace song after I get done blogging.  Then I am going to scrobble a little bit before I go to sleep.  Next I will either play boggle or scrabble while listening to the buggles eating bugles.  I will most likely put the bugles on the tips of my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will leave you with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IL0gT1WEDLM&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-4231837017350459575?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/4231837017350459575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=4231837017350459575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/4231837017350459575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/4231837017350459575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/12/factory-set.html' title='FACTORY SET.'/><author><name>Gigliorononomicon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695343299794411422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='03113128381307000453'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-7677964554578386612</id><published>2007-11-20T22:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T08:12:21.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'>KAYAK</title><content type='html'>Ok, so i am high, sitting with the Blogfather and his girlfriend at my friend Joes house while he is still at work.   i am currently teaching the BF how to illegally download entire albums more quickly and efficiently.  Because everyone knows that efficiency is the most important part of ripping people off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past five minutes, the following has occurred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe's semi-crazy, but 100%  awesome co-worker Verna just came in with him.  She has to be over 45 yrs old, yet she immediately pulled out a joint and started talking about how joe asked her in front of customers tonight how she grooms herself down there.  BLogfathers girlfriend compared Verna to a mother-figure to joe.  joe said 'True.....but i dont think i've ever asked my mom if she shaves her carpet with a rock."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe just yelled out "My status is the baddest!"  Twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogfather made a decision to go find the nearest gas station that serves tallboys and said the ironic thing about our current situation is that he went to Joes to 'be alone' and he is now surrounded by a bunch of idiots.  (idiots was my word, not his)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogfather is freaking out because we are telling him he needs a tetnis shot after cutting himself on a dumpster and stepping on a nail.  then Verna came in and told him he felt like he had a fever.  joe just told him he looked jaundice...which is funny in its own right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bearnstein Bears are on tv right on mute.  all i can hear is some remix of the klaxons, which joe keeps yelling "it's soulwax, motherfucker."  cool, joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe just confused Bob the Builder with Thomas the Train.  who the fuck is bob the builder?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now teaching Joe how to illegally download music more efficiently as well and i'm pretty sure i just blew his mind. he is now yelling and cursing at his computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe just said "Ill fight a motherfucker over it".  I guess that's an improvement over last week's "I'll go Nautical on your ass".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joe's kayak still looks extremely out of place in his apartment.  i am now having an internal debate on whether or not a kayak is a boat.  i also just realized that kayak is a palindrome.  i am also wondering why they didn't make the word 'palindrome' a palindrome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to go home, but the walk accross the parking lot from Joes place to mine seems virtually impossible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-7677964554578386612?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/7677964554578386612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=7677964554578386612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/7677964554578386612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/7677964554578386612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/ok-so-i-am-high-sitting-with-blogfather.html' title='KAYAK'/><author><name>mister ed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14832598899262633146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11948521628526601450'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-728937524058018342</id><published>2007-11-20T02:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T15:25:39.405-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know how to blo.....</title><content type='html'>........g my blog. And this has become a mothertrucking prob. After all I am the father of some bastard of a blog called boatchecker and I suppose that a blog may contain feelings and personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My lungs have made a commitment to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to be high to do this and i have to do this to be high.&lt;br /&gt;How else can i explain?&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand how to take care of boatchecker and i never will if I get the scared face.&lt;br /&gt;I can do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am part of a team and my mates only hold me up to what i am able to produce and that's how i figured out that  i DO know how to blo......................&lt;br /&gt;...............g my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-728937524058018342?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/728937524058018342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=728937524058018342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/728937524058018342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/728937524058018342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-dont-know-how-to-blo.html' title='I don&apos;t know how to blo.....'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='14237851068584008592'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-6131175619826234406</id><published>2007-11-18T23:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T02:12:11.194-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DESTINATION BLOG</title><content type='html'>BLOG - Person, Place or Thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, when i asked myself this question, i immediately ruled out person.  i mean, clearly, a blog cannot take on human characteristics.  it cannot think.  and no matter how funny its content, it cannot sit there and laugh at itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as i got to thinking more about how a blog could be a person, i started to wonder why no one has named their child "Blog".  I mean, seriously, maybe there really is someone out there whose real name is "Blog."  And as he grows up, he has to introduce himself as "Blog."  He will go through school, and write "Blog" on the top of his homework assignments.  Then he'll hand out his school photos to all the other kids, and his mom will have printed "BLOG - 5th Grade" on the back of the picture.  When he plays Red Rover on the playground, everyone will yell  "Red Rover, Red Rover......send BLOG right over."  And eventually, when he graduates, he will have "BLOG" written on his diploma, and the principal will say "Congratulations BLOG"....you are now ready to enter the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now...what happens when BLOG enters the world and becomes a blogger himself.  And he quickly follows in his parents footsteps and becomes obsessed with blogging.  In addition to having to admit that he is obsessed with himself, he will eventually have to make a blog profile.  it will ask for 'Name' and Blog would have to type 'Blog.'  Then it will ask 'Interests' and Blog will have to type 'blogging.'  So he is 'Blog' who likes 'blogging'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;getting back to the subject at hand.  I have realized that I don't think BLOG can be a place.  So, someone should tell The Human Head that you cannot ever get to destination: BLOG.  But after figuring out how cool 'Blog' the person could be, I think I need to figure out how to get to BLOG, the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because how awesome would it be to drive into a city and look at a sign that says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to BLOG&lt;br /&gt;Population:  41,000&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-6131175619826234406?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/6131175619826234406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=6131175619826234406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6131175619826234406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6131175619826234406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/destination-blog.html' title='DESTINATION BLOG'/><author><name>mister ed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14832598899262633146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11948521628526601450'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-6239431475006061792</id><published>2007-11-18T23:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T23:15:26.041-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hunting and pecking</title><content type='html'>lookathimgo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2/3 of the boatchecker blog just got high with someone we work with and he is a machine right now.  The two bloggers are clinically retarded and the nonblogger is sitting at the bar just yappin away about quantum physics and shit.  It is blowing our freaking minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typing is incredibly difficult right now seeing as how I somehow forgot how to read. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie Cooper looks crazy right now because she had to put headphones on to be able to think correctly.  Role-E-Poly is dj'ing and he is going to be very upset because we blogged without him.  He is very sensitive about blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rap music is really cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I found out that my brother actually uses the ash tray in his car.  He said he wanted to stop littering.  Good for him.  He also just bought a pair of Doc Martens in the year 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever Winnie Cooper is blogging about must be hilarious because she hasn't even started typing yet and she can't stop laughing.  And the guy sitting behind me is kinda freaking me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly have to stop because I think I might have gotten to blogged.  Rick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-6239431475006061792?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/6239431475006061792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=6239431475006061792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6239431475006061792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6239431475006061792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/hunting-and-pecking.html' title='hunting and pecking'/><author><name>Gigliorononomicon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695343299794411422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='03113128381307000453'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-5330907591564949325</id><published>2007-11-16T04:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T09:44:19.471-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GUMBA</title><content type='html'>so i just got home after a pretty long night.  im high. i'm tired. i'm cold.  the very last thing i wanted to do was get on the computer and be reminded of how much i used to love video games.  seriously, from the age 7 to probably 12 or 13, video games ruled my life.  it started with some detective game called 'sam spade' on the computer.  i remember nothing more about it.  then there was a game in which i was some robot trapped in a huge building.  i could go in and out elevators, onto different floors and into different rooms.  it was cool except you could not win the game.  in fact, no one ever understood what the point of the whole thing was.  eventually you would enter into the wrong room, two darth vader looking guys would stroll in and shoot you.  the screen would say something like "you have entered the wrong room and invaders have shot and killed you."  real cool...don't give me any directions or weapons and just leave me to roam around some random building....only to be stalked down and killed by 'invaders' who clearly have some sort of agenda...not to mention guns.  anyway, quick interruption....does anyone remember prodigy? it was some sort of computer internet thing...some time around the MS-DOS era.  all i know is my dad used to 'check the stock market' with it.  i always thought that sounded really important. so back to the topic at hand...video games.  next came oregon trail.  you have killed 17 buffalo, a deer, a turtle and a wild plant, but only have enough room on the wagon for half of the plant.  and oh ya, your little brother tommy has died of dysentery.  perfect, why shouldn't kids be introduced to hunting and deadly diseases in 3rd grade.  let's even make them design an epitaph for their dead family member!  i dont know where in the timeline marble madness falls (on computer, not NES), but it ate up a good 7 months of my life. i also think it may have started my love for electronic music at a very young age.  the last one i'm going to write about is CONTRA.  this is only the last one because otherwise i will go on forever.  there are so many others that affected me, but definitely not enough time...RBI baseball, super mario kart, donkey kong (the original), sonic the hedgehog, duckhunt and some game named Kirby on Gameboy.  i dont remember much about that except he was this little marshmellowy looking guy who ran around eating things, blowing up real big and flying around.  but back to contra, my only note here is in reference to the noise the bridge made when it blew up while you were crossing it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BOOMCHIWAWABOOMCHIWAWABOOMCHIWAWA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't act like you don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, i wish i started on this subject without any real reason other than it is awesome, but here is a video that got me going.  it is also awesome. But before you watch, I think it is necessary to proclaim how awesome zelda was and how much i love gumba's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8QNI3W8UB-s&amp;amp;rel=1&amp;amp;border=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8QNI3W8UB-s&amp;amp;rel=1&amp;amp;border=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-5330907591564949325?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/5330907591564949325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=5330907591564949325' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5330907591564949325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5330907591564949325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/gumba.html' title='GUMBA'/><author><name>mister ed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14832598899262633146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11948521628526601450'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-6967445744383838779</id><published>2007-11-16T01:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T03:53:20.778-08:00</updated><title type='text'>songz</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;This is a comprehensive review of some of today's hottest tracks.  Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG:  something by roy orbison&lt;br /&gt;apparently this song is on the pretty woman soundtrack.  i think it might be from some david lynch movie.  it is very scary.&lt;br /&gt;i really wish it was over.&lt;br /&gt;im so serious, the end part right now is freaking me the fuck out.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by:  Tom Cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG: Gangsta's Paridise&lt;br /&gt;i have been spending most of my life, living in the Gangsta's Paridise.&lt;br /&gt;I can no longer even hear the song because Tom Cruise keeps yelling "WEIRD AL, WEIRD ALL....and something about butter.  Next think you know, he'll be jumping on couches.&lt;br /&gt;Tom Cruise sucks.  Both the blogger and the "actor".  i seriously cannot believe he married Joey Potter.  i wish i could say his child is ugly.&lt;br /&gt;i have no idea how i got on this subject from gangsta's paradise.  wouldn't it have been WEIRD if Michelle Pfieffer married Tom Cruise?&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: Winnie Cooper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG: Dixie Chix&lt;br /&gt;i don't know this song.  but i recognize it.  i think it is the theme song to some wb show.&lt;br /&gt;it is probably the most positive sounding song i've ever heard and it makes me want to ride a tractor and shit.&lt;br /&gt;anything with a fiddle is awesome and this song has it.&lt;br /&gt;fiddle faddle is a good example of my previous statement.  it is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: Tom Cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG: Tina Turner...something about a hero&lt;br /&gt;Man, speaking of hero's...that Ike Turner was a pretty stand up guy.  what i am about to type is most likely aroun 91% inaccurate, but here goes.  a while ago St. Louis definitely ended up on E! online as a top story because our mayor refused to grant an "Ike Turner Day" in st. louis because he beats women.&lt;br /&gt;why do i have a strange and overwhelming feeling that i am totally thinking of someone else and confusing them with ike.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: Winnie Cooper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG:  pink - get the party started&lt;br /&gt;i don't care what anybody says, this song kicks ass.&lt;br /&gt;she is bad ass and can go for miles.  if you know what i mean.&lt;br /&gt;it's also hard to type this blog while dancing.  ike turner.&lt;br /&gt;roly poly is going to be joining our discussion and we are all really excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by:  Tom Cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG: puttin' on the ritz&lt;br /&gt;I remember when Peter Boyle as Frankenstein in Young Frankenstein with Gene Wilder danced to this on a HIGH school stage. This is one of the best scenes to ever be filmed in black and white. And it was a comedy. I love crackers. For real, I'll put it on the Ritz. Best with crab and horseradish!&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: roly poly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this song is by taco.  ritz.  superduper.  tom cruise needs to EDIT his previous post and add RITZ to the list of weird words.&lt;br /&gt;along with the word cracker.&lt;br /&gt;and butter.&lt;br /&gt;there is tap dancing in the middle and the ending if extremely creepy.  speaking of creepy...and tap dancing...i know how to tap dance extremely well.  not many people know that about me, but its true.  i know how to do something called shuffle off the buffalo.  how weird is that.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: Winnie Cooper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG:  Miles Davis tap dance&lt;br /&gt;miles davis is the godfather of funk.  he was a black man and i'm pretty sure he played every instrument on his recordings at the same time.  nobody can do that except him, and that is why there is no good new music.&lt;br /&gt;listening to this kind of music while i am on pot is very juicy.  two thumbs way up.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by:  TomKat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok....i believe what we have here folks is a bit of a subliminal message sent to Tom Cruise and me. roly poly claims to have played this because its 'a classic' (a classic!) but i know the real reason. the truth is the title. we smoked his weed without him. started playing a game without him. he came in late...didn't know the rules...and got confused. what a bunch of FREELOADERS we are....someone needs to change their display name to freddie freeloader.&lt;br /&gt;miles davis kicks ass.  jazz is cool.  but not as cool as chaz.  (first cd is dropping Wed. Nov 28th at some bar...get ready)&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: W.C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;=====+=====&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SONG:  it's my life&lt;br /&gt;i wish with every fiber of my being that this song did not remind me of my best friend in college.  she had some powerful connection with bon jovi.  it was kind of embarrassing.  wow...i don't think anyone has ever said that before.   powerful connection to bon jovi.  i mean, i'm pretty sure if i were to ever overhear anyone say they had a powerful connection to bon jovi, i'd drop everything and play the squawk bawx.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: w.c.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ow chicca chi whoa whoa.&lt;br /&gt;Was there really 7 ounces of sperm found in Jon Bon Jovi's stomach? Does any one remember that rumor? It has to be a nation wide falsehood. I'm old.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in my elementary talked about it.&lt;br /&gt;It's my rumor.&lt;br /&gt;reviewed by: Roly Poly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-6967445744383838779?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/6967445744383838779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=6967445744383838779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6967445744383838779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/6967445744383838779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/songz.html' title='songz'/><author><name>Gigliorononomicon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695343299794411422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='03113128381307000453'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-8088545810015809212</id><published>2007-11-16T01:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T01:32:19.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>weird words</title><content type='html'>furby&lt;br /&gt;boat&lt;br /&gt;word&lt;br /&gt;blog&lt;br /&gt;capitalization&lt;br /&gt;capitalize&lt;br /&gt;peanut&lt;br /&gt;limit&lt;br /&gt;van halen&lt;br /&gt;burn&lt;br /&gt;pliers&lt;br /&gt;tyrannosaurus&lt;br /&gt;mirh&lt;br /&gt;lanyard&lt;br /&gt;youtube&lt;br /&gt;tube&lt;br /&gt;flap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will add more to this when I am good and ready.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-8088545810015809212?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/8088545810015809212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=8088545810015809212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/8088545810015809212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/8088545810015809212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/weird-words.html' title='weird words'/><author><name>Gigliorononomicon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695343299794411422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='03113128381307000453'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-5184372993188879351</id><published>2007-11-14T21:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T21:51:38.837-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Show Time!</title><content type='html'>There are two drama series on some other premium cable network that blow "Mobsters" and "Groupies" out of the watered down premium that most people worship known as "OBH".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have changed the name so that this network would not get it's ratings hurt. Everything has feelings, just look at text messaging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, "Mobsters" ended its run as a drama cult but was worthy of watching in it's prime. But the other, "Groupies" is still hotter than my pee-pee the morning after that girl I took home ended up needing $300 for the time we spent together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really thought she was the one, oh well.&lt;br /&gt;She wasn't the one and after watching Groupies I didn't think that it was the one either. I really don't see what the draw was but what the fuck ever. Maybe because every single person in America wants to be famous (and yes this includes my shallow ass). I don't know what it is but fame is crack cocaine for the ego. You can't stop after the first hit but all it does is continues to guarantee the erosion of ones' character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two shows on the other less worshiped network that are actually not about the glam or the Gotti but rather kind of close to real life shit and I am hooked for quite possibly the first time ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HIGHLY recommend the one that is named after a green product that elevates your mood and is being sold by your average suburban housewife to make ends meet. And as I watch more of the other one about a guy that writes his way through fucking and fucks his way through writing I really don't know which one stimulates my media ego more. This one is named with one word combined with the name of a very large Pacific Coast state and the act of sex or fucking or whatever you sinners wanna call it.&lt;br /&gt;Check em, love em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roly Poly curling up and rollin' out pussies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-5184372993188879351?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/5184372993188879351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=5184372993188879351' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5184372993188879351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/5184372993188879351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/show-time.html' title='Show Time!'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='14237851068584008592'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-3276032346675584441</id><published>2007-11-14T17:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T17:21:09.561-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HERB</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So, for my first boatchecking blog, i had this grand story about how the idea originated, how we formed the boatchecking team, so on and so forth. but honestly, i think i might have smoked too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My two fellow boatcheckers had already completed their first blogs, and i cracked under the pressure. i deleted the entire thing and went back to what i know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Noun + Verb = Sentence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this brought back to me one of the most awesome stories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; of all time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D066kuivSfs/RzueqL0qgRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWArOxlamsM/s1600-h/lottojacket5lj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D066kuivSfs/RzueqL0qgRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWArOxlamsM/s320/lottojacket5lj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132870647884185874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The year was 1994.  The year of the Lotto jacket&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; and Gin Blossoms.  I was twelve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the entire 6th grade class was to put on a musical play. the name of it escapes me, but it doesn't even matter. all you need to know about is the star.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;His name was HERB the Verb.  he wore hiking shorts.  and his jam went a little something like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Herb the Verb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;a man of action.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;he's busy all the day through.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;he runs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;he walks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;he whistles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;he talks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;he does whatever you do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Then, the music slows.   the lights dim.  Herb is standing in a corner by himself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And he sings:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sometimes i like to stand very still.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;just as i am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;and then i'm a verb of being.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(the chorus yells) "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;YOU ARE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(Herb points to himself proudly)  "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I AM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;There were other songs.  they were all about parts of speech.  none were as influential.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;i somehow got stuck as the adjective green. which was fine, i guess. except that the girl next to me was the adjective 'tall.' she was 6 inches shorter than me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is no doubt in my mind that Herb smokes grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;~JJ overandout!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-3276032346675584441?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/3276032346675584441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=3276032346675584441' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/3276032346675584441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/3276032346675584441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/herb_14.html' title='HERB'/><author><name>mister ed</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14832598899262633146</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='11948521628526601450'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D066kuivSfs/RzueqL0qgRI/AAAAAAAAAAM/UWArOxlamsM/s72-c/lottojacket5lj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-3944883046568723082</id><published>2007-11-14T17:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T17:12:56.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>boatchecking defined</title><content type='html'>What is "boat checking"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boat checking is a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boatchecking season begins around the same time of year as Winter, when people need to wear boats to keep warm from the dropping temperatures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people go to a bar they don't want to wear their boats the entire time, so they check them with the boat checker. The boat checker checks the boat into a small room and hangs onto it for them until they ask for it back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes people need to go outside while they are at the bar just to get some fresh air or to smoke. This is a good time to get your checked boat and put it on so you can go outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I have clarified the name of this blog. I know there was a lot of confusion before about it, and I just wanted to let people know what it means to us as a country.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-3944883046568723082?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/3944883046568723082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=3944883046568723082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/3944883046568723082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/3944883046568723082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/boatchecking-defined.html' title='boatchecking defined'/><author><name>Gigliorononomicon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16695343299794411422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='03113128381307000453'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1546223856961986220.post-4256261949004438233</id><published>2007-11-13T21:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T22:47:01.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>idea fright!</title><content type='html'>Have you ever started a blog with two of your friends and all you expected to do was become the most talented and influential trio of writers to ever touch a keyboard? I figured that you had, and that's how you will most likely relate to us. But when you started yours, did it take over an hour to just set up the posting account. Probably not, unless you were smoked up like the three of us. One of us, me, Roly Poly didn't even know how to set it up. The other one, her, Jungle Julie is skilled at this sort of thing, but said she was blown out a couple of times during set up. The third one, him, Mulgarco just started playing video games and I'm not sure if he even knew that the other two of us were here. But he had the sweet skavatto so we let it slide. If you don't know about skavatto then you don't you don't know about delayed inspiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are we finna' go to Hollywood for being writers of this 'high' tier, or this was just a passing of the time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest all I started with was&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;idea fright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Roly Poly rollin out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1546223856961986220-4256261949004438233?l=boatchecker.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/feeds/4256261949004438233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1546223856961986220&amp;postID=4256261949004438233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/4256261949004438233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1546223856961986220/posts/default/4256261949004438233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boatchecker.blogspot.com/2007/11/idea-fright.html' title='idea fright!'/><author><name>Blogfather</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17668720593110789361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='14237851068584008592'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>