<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><entry xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9003294.post-110711503963973649</id><published>2005-01-30T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-30T11:58:28.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>My date went alright. We went out to dinner then went to go play pool. I can't play pool for nothing. I understand the concept of the game, but I can't hold the stick right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my friend's daughter 1st birthday party yesterday and all I can say is thank God I don't have any kids. First of all the party was suppose to start at &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;4:00 pm&lt;/span&gt;, but she pushed it back to &lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;5:00 pm&lt;/span&gt;, so know me and the fact that I run on BP Time got there at &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;6:00 pm&lt;/span&gt;, hoping that the kids were done playing and maybe eating. I just wanted to drop off my gift and eat some cake. &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; it didn't turn out that way. When I got there no one was there and the food wasn't done. Let's just say that the party didn't start until &lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;8:00 pm&lt;/span&gt;, so I was there with all of the bad kids running around acting crazy. Everything that I wanted to miss I was right in time for. After going through this party, I know I'm not having kids for a &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;loooong&lt;/span&gt; time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9003294-110711503963973649?l=thestruggles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thestruggles.blogspot.com/feeds/110711503963973649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9003294&amp;postID=110711503963973649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9003294/posts/default/110711503963973649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9003294/posts/default/110711503963973649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thestruggles.blogspot.com/2005/01/friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Miss. Sincere</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12591697129973912835</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='03277055646800098896'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry>