<?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-7471068469698855425</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:36:44.145-08:00</updated><category term='herman&apos;s great influence'/><category term='goggle wearin dogs. dogs for non-violence.'/><category term='cat hater'/><category term='Mr. T cereal'/><category term='poor grammar'/><category term='lemons'/><category term='good things. full-time out. nonsense blog'/><category term='tycoon'/><category term='the mighty ducks trilogy'/><category term='low low prices'/><category term='cool hat club'/><category term='pokemaster'/><category term='metaphoric nest sprucing'/><category term='indentured servant'/><category term='wal-mart hater'/><category term='the herman moore haircut'/><category term='free surge'/><category term='side kick dogs'/><category term='large marge'/><category term='emelio'/><category term='comma dropper master'/><category term='epic'/><category term='tacos'/><category term='just say no'/><category term='alamo basement'/><category term='fabulously rich'/><category term='don&apos;t eat and drive'/><category term='amazing larry'/><title type='text'>John said what</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-4433339544607347140</id><published>2010-08-09T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T11:58:08.761-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Treating youth ministers like silver medal ministers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://stuffchristianslike.net/2010/07/treating-youth-ministers-like-silver-medal-ministers/"&gt;Treating youth ministers like silver medal ministers.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;this is funny stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-4433339544607347140?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://stuffchristianslike.net/2010/07/treating-youth-ministers-like-silver-medal-ministers/' title='Treating youth ministers like silver medal ministers.'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/4433339544607347140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2010/08/treating-youth-ministers-like-silver.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/4433339544607347140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/4433339544607347140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2010/08/treating-youth-ministers-like-silver.html' title='Treating youth ministers like silver medal ministers.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-6372237307689609616</id><published>2010-03-26T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-26T10:29:39.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sandy Lost a Step</title><content type='html'>After I was done checking out at Meijer the other day I was pushing my cart towards the exit and I walked by the beloved 1 cent Sandy horse ride for children. In a flashback at that same moment I remembered the days when I could fit on that horse and would proudly ride the untamed, wild beast whipping at it's rear end, pretending to run wild through the aisles of Meijer. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was comfortable then too. I remember the genuine leather saddle that practically screamed official former cowboy saddle memorabilia. There was probably still gun smoke smells forever stained into it from gun fights outside the OK Corral against those hooligan Pettleton Brothers Gang always terrorizing town. Or, it was countless rear ends of smelly, poopy pants children rubbing their rear ends against priceless, genuine memorabilia. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Back in 1989 I remember almost getting bucked from that wild stallion. That sucker sure had some power and it sure ran hard. After several visits to Meijer for groceries with my mom and several pennies begged from her purse I had eventually mastered the wild Sandy. Other children would get on excitedly only to have no knowledge of how to control it's unbridled electric power. I would snicker as I waited in line ready to show the next riders how it was done, and when that 45 seconds of bucking, galloping insanity was over, I would proudly get off as all the patrons of Meijer watched in amazement. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then as I saw this little girl riding the mighty Sandy, I realized, the Mighty Sandy was hardly an image of her glory days. She had lost a step. It barely rocked...forward...and back...with no power, no untamed wildness like she once had...she's been tweaked her and there over the years to keep her going, including a fiberglass saddle, no doubt hard and unforgiving on the gallops. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll always remember the good ol' days Sandy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ride on good buddy, ride on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-6372237307689609616?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/6372237307689609616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2010/03/sandy-lost-step.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/6372237307689609616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/6372237307689609616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2010/03/sandy-lost-step.html' title='Sandy Lost a Step'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-6737501532942933697</id><published>2010-02-05T06:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T07:20:58.703-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='herman&apos;s great influence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the herman moore haircut'/><title type='text'>Ode to Herman.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/S2w2flmOWnI/AAAAAAAAACU/jJ0RiGZQ54M/s1600-h/herman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/S2w2flmOWnI/AAAAAAAAACU/jJ0RiGZQ54M/s320/herman.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434778766625626738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to find a person who influenced me greater in my elementary school years (other than my dad of course) than Herman Moore, the great Detroit Lions wide receiver of the 1990's-early 00's. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only was he, along with Barry Sanders, the reason I watched Lion football, but memory of his lanky, freak body catching bombs from Scott Mitchell Sunday after Sunday is forever etched into my mind. That is probably why I still am a fan today. The legends of yesteryear continue to give me hope. (johnnie morton! germane crowell! brett perriman!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had his jersey, and still do. I had his cards, and still do. I destroyed other teams with him in Madden renditions on the Nintendo 64. I even had his haircut. (and unfortunately still don't). A dutch boy rocking the Herman Moore 'fade up/steps' haircut at calvin christian elementary was a sight to see. I fondly remember sitting in the chair meticulously directing the haircut ladies how to properly do a do like herman moore's, the basic #2 on the sides just wouldn't cut it for me. they hadn't seen a cut greater. I would then proudly return to our house to display my haircut to my dad, also a proud Herman supporter, to which he would smile big and cheer jealously (wishing he could do the same no doubt). A father could not have been prouder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Herman. Thank you for influencing my life, but mainly, for the fashion pointers. I would have never made it through 3rd-6th grade without the 'Herman Fade'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-6737501532942933697?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/6737501532942933697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2010/02/ode-to-herman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/6737501532942933697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/6737501532942933697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2010/02/ode-to-herman.html' title='Ode to Herman.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/S2w2flmOWnI/AAAAAAAAACU/jJ0RiGZQ54M/s72-c/herman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-7030527801823588955</id><published>2009-09-18T05:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T05:17:37.412-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='goggle wearin dogs. dogs for non-violence.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='side kick dogs'/><title type='text'>Side kick dogs who wear goggles &gt; me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/SrN2z4K905I/AAAAAAAAACI/NjQgax5yq34/s1600-h/0811092039a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/SrN2z4K905I/AAAAAAAAACI/NjQgax5yq34/s320/0811092039a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382776613261661074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here this motorcycle riding man has a side kick dog, complete with goggles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was probably a few months ago now that Heather and I were cruising down the road and to our delight we spot this man...with his goggle wearing dog. (the dog is sitting right behind the guy..sorry, the cellphone camera is the best we had in a moment of laughing out loud and not slowing traffic to a complete halt)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was at that moment that I knew goggle wearing dogs are the coolest ever. hands down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also was thinking that I wanted a goggle wearing dog too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm pretty sure having a side kick dog would loosen up any tense situation you walk into. thereby diffusing any chance of violence. instead we would all just kind of be like, "man...our heads our not on straight right now...here I was about to punch your cheek and this dog with goggles is staring at us...what a reality check!" and someone else would chime in, " yeah, lets think of names we would give our own goggle wearing dogs!" and then we would all laugh about silly names for goggle wearing dogs. except I already had one, named jim or amazing larry. i can't decide. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;until that day friends, keep on the look out for goggle wearing side kick dogs saving the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;john&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-7030527801823588955?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/7030527801823588955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/09/side-kick-dogs-who-wear-goggles-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7030527801823588955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7030527801823588955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/09/side-kick-dogs-who-wear-goggles-me.html' title='Side kick dogs who wear goggles &gt; me.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/SrN2z4K905I/AAAAAAAAACI/NjQgax5yq34/s72-c/0811092039a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-712076568753575068</id><published>2009-06-09T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T13:33:27.276-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wal-mart hater'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cool hat club'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='low low prices'/><title type='text'>when I loved wal-mart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/Si7AwOSvUvI/AAAAAAAAACA/m36GIEolCB0/s1600-h/walmart+hat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/Si7AwOSvUvI/AAAAAAAAACA/m36GIEolCB0/s320/walmart+hat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345421742438306546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;yes. there it is. it's out there now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;some people liked the Disney Store, others, Toys R' Us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;John, liked wal-mart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before we go on, please note I am now a firm wal-mart hater. I don't go to wal-mart to shop, and if I happen to be in one, I don't enjoy being there. But there was a time in my life when  for some reason I really, really loved wal-mart. so i apologize for the lunacy of this time of my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a crazy fascination with the retail giant. Now, I knew we had Meijer...but those had become boring. There wasn't a wal-mart around me for miles. and the prices! oh the sweet sweet low prices! The commercials said they were rollin' em back and I wanted to spend my hard earned paper route cash at the wal-mart!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whenever our family went on vacation or we happen to be somewhere there was a wal-mart, I would literally get excited. I NEEDED to stop. It was a moment of pure ecstasy, I wanted to go into every wal-mart as if I was fulfilling life goals by being there and to appreciate the different lay out from the previous wal-mart we went to the town back. I loved walking through the toy aisles, touching the toys I could have at such bargain prices, imagining the fun I could have with them, all because wal-mart offered them so cheap. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember only a few specific things I wanted from a wal-mart, one, 1/64 matchbox nascar cars-of course to the get buckshot jones cars I did not own, and two, they offered gangster rap cd's pre-edited!. (side note here: I was also in a phase of liking all sorts of rap music, generally because i liked the beats, most of it however was laced with cuss words and all sorts of provocative lyrics that my mother did not approve of--nevertheless, I wanted it. wal-mart offered those previously unpurchaseable parental advisory cd's edited, as if to please mothers and make it possible for 11 year olds to buy them) That's probably why I liked to go there the most, oh, and because their 20 oz. coke's were super cheap then too. It was as if wal-mart thanked me personally with a fresh, cold coke to enjoy as I left their store.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so, maybe you're laughing at me right now for the ridiculous wal-mart loving period of my life, or maybe you suddenly realize that you once loved wal-mart passionately too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a wal-mart hatin', low price shoppin', cool hat wearin' friend,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;john&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-712076568753575068?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/712076568753575068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/06/when-i-loved-wal-mart.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/712076568753575068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/712076568753575068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/06/when-i-loved-wal-mart.html' title='when I loved wal-mart'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/Si7AwOSvUvI/AAAAAAAAACA/m36GIEolCB0/s72-c/walmart+hat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-4843798785726824978</id><published>2009-05-29T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T12:26:03.856-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pokemaster'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='free surge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indentured servant'/><title type='text'>the tale of the pokemon trading sixth grader.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Sometimes I might tell stories that seem a little crazy to be true...well, I promise they are, and this is one of them. When I was in the 6th grade, I was a pokemon trader.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Now that might seem a little arrogant but the power was given to me. You see, back then, Pokemon was still somewhat new, and I had gotten into before it got really "big" with everyone else. My cousin Rob and I had boxes of cards, we had beaten the original gameboy game (I had the blue version, rob had the red one), we had truly collected them all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;There was also another part of my life that was quite a serious sports card collector. About a mile down the road from my house was the All-Star Sports card shop, which I frequented nearly every saturday, if not more per week since I was in third grade. I even had my own stool at the end of the counter to peruse the card collections and look for cards I needed to finish collectons. The owner of the shop, Dave, was a older guy who enjoyed having me around and "talkin shop" with him about different cards and players, and the Tigers too. He would even give me a heavily discounted 20oz. Coke, or Surge, and even, occasionally a free one on a hot summer day for me to walk home with, or if I had just purchased a large amount of cards. Dave was a good guy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Pokemon and card collecting now intersect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;One day Dave asked if knew anything about Pokemon cards. I said I did, and that I had many cards at home already, and was quite proficient at the card game. Dave was happy to hear this. He then proposed the greatest job a 6th grader could have had (except 6th graders working at a store is illegal) He offered me a 1-hour shift on Wednesday nights to be the "Pokemon trader" and he would compensate my rare knowledge and skills with free packs of cards and sets. It was a miracle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I was in my element. At 7pm on Wednesday nights I would walk down to the shop, stand on the other side of the counter and make deals with kids my own age on what cards they could trade or not. I was ruthless. No one could pull a fast one on me. You think a Diglett is worth a Squirtle straight up? shut up, no! ain't happening. I was a pokemaster. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Now, I wish the story could just finish there...I was at the height of poke success. There was no other 6th grader working under the table trading pokemon cards and making bank on mid to late-nineties NBA and NFL cards. But with much power and success, comes a price. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Over time I got greedy and asked for the more expensive sets of cards as compensation for my work. Dave would hesitantly agree. Then it slowly became too much. I had dug myself into debt. I was working Wednesday night's only to pay off the cards and sets I had taken home from weeks previous. The burden was too much, so I conferenced with Dave after one Wednesday night of Poke trading and card pricing (the job evolved into bigger responsibilities like pricing regular sports cards from the "Beckett") and I asked if I could be done working there. The wish was granted and my run as an Poke trading sixth grader was done. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;My business relationship with Dave and the sports card shop remained strong after that incident, not because I was buying sports cards still, but really for old times sake, until, sadly, I found the card shop closed when I came home from college during my freshman year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And that my friends, is the story of when I was a pokemon trading sixth grader.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;john&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-4843798785726824978?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/4843798785726824978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/tale-of-pokemon-trading-sixth-grader.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/4843798785726824978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/4843798785726824978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/tale-of-pokemon-trading-sixth-grader.html' title='the tale of the pokemon trading sixth grader.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-3021687428913237990</id><published>2009-05-21T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T20:44:12.093-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good things. full-time out. nonsense blog'/><title type='text'>give me a bloggin' time out.</title><content type='html'>Somehow i've been pretty consistent writing a new post each day for the past week. I'm surprised actually. I've tried before and failed. But I'm feelin' pretty good about this one, so, quite ironically, i'm taking the weekend off. No bloggin. no somewhat profound/somewhat useless post for you to read. It's an official timeout. word. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;callin' time-out's better than chris webber in 1993,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;john&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-3021687428913237990?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/3021687428913237990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/give-me-bloggin-time-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/3021687428913237990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/3021687428913237990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/give-me-bloggin-time-out.html' title='give me a bloggin&apos; time out.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-2282807457436333835</id><published>2009-05-20T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T22:08:18.938-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='metaphoric nest sprucing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat hater'/><title type='text'>Buy a House. Check.</title><content type='html'>Well I went out and bought a house today..&lt;div&gt;It was a long, long, time coming. Approximately 70+ homes walked through, and countless more viewed online, and we finally found our little nest...and I'm quite happy about it all. Infact, very happy. We'll be busy, metaphorically adding little sticks and leaves to our nest here and there, sprucing it up and whatnot, and with much fanfare, moving my lay-z-boy reclining rocking chair into it's final destination. It's quite a nice chair. I will let you sit in it. Oh yeah, and there are these two cats who think they own our yard...I already hate them...I'm sure pictures of them will show up one of these days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These next couple days will probably be madness: moving everything in-painting-mowing the lawn-killing weeds-and putting things where we want them. But I will fully enjoy every moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;house owner, cat-hater, lazy-boy lovin,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;john&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-2282807457436333835?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/2282807457436333835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/buy-house-check.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/2282807457436333835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/2282807457436333835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/buy-house-check.html' title='Buy a House. Check.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-8123177852342522736</id><published>2009-05-19T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T19:54:42.630-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='large marge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mr. T cereal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amazing larry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alamo basement'/><title type='text'>"large marge sent me"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my all-time favorite movies is Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure. I remember watching our vhs tape so many times and laughing hilariously every time. It wasn't just funny, it was educational. It taught me how to make some good, everyday life decisions, and some general wisdom I could then apply should I run across certain situations. I wanted to share it with everyone, but don't take my word for it (said in the style of LeVar Burton on PBS's smash hit "Reading Rainbow") see the movie for yourself, or better yet, I'll watch it with you if you ask me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My Lessons Learned from Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) indoor pool fighting is the next big thing, and apparently no one will hear you fighting. But conveniently, in the end someone looking like oddjob will hear and ultimately ruin the fight altogether.&lt;br /&gt;2) sometimes the mind will play tricks on you and in those times it will appear as if you are trying to unravel a knit sweater that someone keeps on knitting, and knitting, and knitting and knitting..!&lt;br /&gt;3) when someone in the same room as you has a name like "amazing larry" you should probably ask if he has anything to share with everyone else. I would imagine he would.&lt;br /&gt;4) we should pity all the poor fools who aren't nourished daily by Mr. T cereal.&lt;br /&gt;5) life is gonna be okay when you are dreaming of pushing a big donut and there is a snake wearing a vest.&lt;br /&gt;6) there really is no basement in the Alamo. and to suggest the possibility of it's existence is a) one of the greatest timeless jokes ever or b) the product of the lousiest fortune teller ever.&lt;br /&gt;7) never chew gum offered from your sworn enemy (even during what looks to be reconcilation) just insist you don't chew.&lt;br /&gt;8) don't ever, ever, in any circumstance, tie your bike to a creepy waving clown when bike racks are readily available for public use.&lt;br /&gt;9) when your local pet shoppe is burning and you have a monkey helping you save all the pets, forget the snakes...they just aren't worth the trouble.&lt;br /&gt;10) tell people large marge sent you. trust me-its a good story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-8123177852342522736?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/8123177852342522736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/large-marge-sent-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/8123177852342522736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/8123177852342522736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/large-marge-sent-me.html' title='&quot;large marge sent me&quot;'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-92284007833243589</id><published>2009-05-18T16:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T16:22:23.101-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poor grammar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='comma dropper master'/><title type='text'>I'm sorry, I use too many, comma's.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Listen, I apologize.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As the years have gone, by the way I write things has morphed into a weird style of mental conversation and proper punctuation. I'll be honest, I was never that successful in my punctuation lessons...I would just toss random apostrophes and comma's and periods in where I thought looked good or just started a fresh paragraph to steer clear of any complications. I could never conquer it. The way I have come to write nowadays, like, what I'm writing right now, is to me how it would sound if I were to actually verbally speak this blog to you. The comma to me is my personal dramatic pause. I will comfortably toss a comma where I think I would rest as if I were speaking it to achieve maximum effect for the listeners (in this case, you the reader). I apologize for that because half the time it's probably wrong and your punctuation and grammar radar is going off like crazy as you read my blogs...but I ask you to read with a new set of bloggin' glasses. Read with the perspective that I am a broken, c- english grammar student who is going to write this way regardless of what you think of his punctuation skills. Maybe one day I'll figure this whole comma deal out...but until then, I will metaphorically drop comma's like they're hot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;like, thats all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;john&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-92284007833243589?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/92284007833243589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-sorry-i-use-too-many-commas.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/92284007833243589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/92284007833243589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-sorry-i-use-too-many-commas.html' title='I&apos;m sorry, I use too many, comma&apos;s.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-7368241190377073233</id><published>2009-05-17T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T21:39:16.604-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='epic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the mighty ducks trilogy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='emelio'/><title type='text'>1992: when i almost became a hockey star</title><content type='html'>It's about this time of year , every year, during the NHL playoffs when I think back to the year 1992, when it all could have begun. I could have become a hockey star.&lt;div&gt;In 1992 the first, of what would eventually become one of the finest sport-action-comedy trilogy movies of all-time, The Mighty Ducks, was released to American households. It was a story of a bunch of misfit hockey players assembled by a coach with a bad history...that coach was played by Emilio Estevez, a brilliant actor I might add. Well this team goes on to win the whole kit and caboodle. You might remember The "Flying V", Quack! Quack! Quack!, and the ever so wise skate shop manager/mentor/obi-wan kenobi like character. The movie had it all, a great story with a good arc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShDlbK-BY3I/AAAAAAAAABY/KCJLRwZIFfs/s200/ducks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337017813397758834" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was this movie that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;almost&lt;/span&gt; moved me enough to pick up the sport of hockey. I was a young kid-wanting to one day be a champion hoisting some sort of trophy after beating out the much praised and favored opponents. I had visions of playing for the Red Wings, or better yet, the actual Mighty Ducks team. I could play the role of the 'Banks' character-the prep kid who had some sweet game that the coaches would find playing in some local park displaying mad hockey skills on inferior 8 year-old Gretzky wannabe's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Except, none of that ever happened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never played hockey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and to make matters worse, one time when I went skating at the ice house, the skates cut deep identical lacerations into both of my shins...scarring me forever, reminding me of my shattered hockey dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, regardless of my shattered dreams, or the "what if''s?", I am who I am, and that story doesn't include hockey star, and you know what? that's okay with me...but at least it almost happened...so I guess I'll just watch the playoff's and smile in satisfaction about a career that could have been.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the almost hockey star,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;john&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-7368241190377073233?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/7368241190377073233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/1992-when-i-almost-became-hockey-star.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7368241190377073233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7368241190377073233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/1992-when-i-almost-became-hockey-star.html' title='1992: when i almost became a hockey star'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShDlbK-BY3I/AAAAAAAAABY/KCJLRwZIFfs/s72-c/ducks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-7861971711686686483</id><published>2009-05-16T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T10:00:17.695-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='don&apos;t eat and drive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tacos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='just say no'/><title type='text'>when to say no to a taco</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The other night I was driving home late and I had that unmistakeable urge to eat taco bell. we all know that call, don't we. I like it when I get that call. The problem arises when I want to eat my crunchy taco now. The dining room is closed. It's late-I'm not going to sit in the parking lot and eat it, and I can't wait until I get home to eat them because then I will just want to go to bed. So I started to eat them while I drove home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I will say, before I go on, that I encourage safe driving at all times. Driving while you eat is never exhibiting safe driving skills, so please, don't eat and drive. But sometimes I'm just pretty darn hungry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Any other food is pretty "driver friendly"; jbc's from Wendy's, easy. chicken nuggets aren't even that bad. But tacos? just say no.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Long story short, half the taco will end up on you. You know how when you eat them (or atleast like I do) all the stuff falls out into the wrapper and then you get to enjoy eating all the remains later on? It's totally not as cool picking it off your clothes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So, learn like I did, when to say no to the taco. Perhaps I should have just waited several minutes to eat them...or not, because it was still quite tasty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;a crunchy taco lover,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;john&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-7861971711686686483?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/7861971711686686483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-to-say-no-to-taco.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7861971711686686483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7861971711686686483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-to-say-no-to-taco.html' title='when to say no to a taco'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-6763893275584827473</id><published>2009-05-15T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T13:48:39.446-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fabulously rich'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lemons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tycoon'/><title type='text'>a guide to being fabulously rich</title><content type='html'>Recently I've been addicted to an app on my Apple Touch; the free to download "Lemonade Tycoon" by EA Sports. seriously, go check it out for yourself.&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/Sg3VCLwuC1I/AAAAAAAAABQ/536whQ3rM-4/s320/lemonadetycoon_screen.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336155366997494610" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What started in frustration has only blossomed into a lemonade company with a net worth of thousands of dollars, an employee, and has slowly become the official drink at the baseball stadium, popular for its sweet lemony taste, but not too watered down either. A company, who even in the economic slump doesn't skimp on its product, and offers top rated lemonade for .50-1.10 on any given day. it's a true american company. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see when I started the game, I foolishly expected to get rich quick. I was frustrated by the fact that I couldn't get my formula right, I would run out of product, the lines were too long, and to top it all off, I was losing money. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But that all changed with I thought of a business model that would surely succeed. My lovely fiance had concocted the best tasting lemonade formula and knew how to control things when the weather dipped too cold or got too hot. Together we mastered the lemonade sector of the business world. do you want to know how we did it? I'll tell you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 rules to become fabulously rich as a lemonade tycoon:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Don't expect to have cash stuffed in your pockets on day 1. It doesn't happen like that. The right strategy done simply, and repeated many times will make your lemonade stand grow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Don't waste your money on renting out the "cool" places like the mall, marina, or train stations. Yes-they do promise money, but that time will come. Just stay in your neighborhood and build a popular stand there, and it's free after all. You can use your saved rent money to buy upgrades quicker or more supplies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. If you feel the need to advertise, only spend like $4. There's no need to spend 10-or 20 in your beginning months. They will come if you give them a good, affordable drink.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Price your lemonade appropriately. Think small. lemonade priced at .90 is a good price point for the every day weather. When its over 100 degrees, go ahead and increase your price to 1.10 or maybe more later on. When it gets below 70, like 50-60 weather, you have to slash your prices to .60 or so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. When it gets hot outside (95+) give it 5 lemons, 3 sugars, and 3 ice cubes. That keeps patrons happy. and when its below 90, 4 lemons, 2 sugars, and 2 ice cubes will do the trick.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and of course, buy the upgrades as you go. Your ability to hold more stock, attract more customers, etc only increases the amount of profit you can make. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do this simple process over and over and in no time you'll be rolling in so much lemonade cash you won't know what to do with it. Enjoy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;your fabulously rich lemonade tycoon friend,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;john&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-6763893275584827473?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/6763893275584827473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/guide-to-being-fabulously-rich.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/6763893275584827473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/6763893275584827473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/guide-to-being-fabulously-rich.html' title='a guide to being fabulously rich'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/Sg3VCLwuC1I/AAAAAAAAABQ/536whQ3rM-4/s72-c/lemonadetycoon_screen.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7471068469698855425.post-7951164937291570646</id><published>2009-05-14T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T12:51:25.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>self-conscious blogger.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So I have a blog now. I have to admit it's kinda awkward too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I just sort of write whatever I'm thinking and you read it...but maybe that's not the weirdest part of this experience for me. The weirdest feeling is how insecure I feel about my blog name. "john said what", I couldn't think of anything. My mind froze. I was paralyzed by other awesome blog names like "imvegetarian", "bloggingforjesus", "muscleshirt" and "blogfurniture" (none of which I've gone too by the way, so I may not endorse whatever they say on their respective blogs!-though bloggingforjesus sounds promising...) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;There's just too much pressure. Too much competition to have the sweetest blog name around, and I crumbled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;But I'll keep on typing, even with my blog name self-consciousness, maybe one day it will hit me...I'll have the perfect, hilarious, need to check out blog name.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;thats all i have to say about that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;john&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7471068469698855425-7951164937291570646?l=johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/feeds/7951164937291570646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/self-conscious-blogger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7951164937291570646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7471068469698855425/posts/default/7951164937291570646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://johnsaidwhat.blogspot.com/2009/05/self-conscious-blogger.html' title='self-conscious blogger.'/><author><name>John</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08543801849676663574</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_gP-lFSejN7s/ShGzAqiolMI/AAAAAAAAABg/ecwPz2KHujE/S220/john_simpsonnew'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
