<?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-32189901</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:04:12.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Piratas Carpe Noctum</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-2203730282322677079</id><published>2008-04-23T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T15:53:32.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pruning Dead Leaves</title><content type='html'>I have a tendency to try too many things at once. I am already overloaded and I have had the long-standing plan to play with Linux. I even had a box set aside for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work was cleaning out their storage, so I grabbed a Dell box because it had a legit Win license sticker on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I spent 1.5 hrs taking apart the Dell box and trying to put it into another tower when I realized the hardware was hella-old. I took another look at the license sticker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Win 98 SE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was less than pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have already been in a "change" mood since Dec and have been slowly working through getting rid of the excesses in my life that are dragging me down, so I may have ganked the RAM, cards, and hard drives from 3 separate super old machines I had pending to do some project or another on and just tossed them. Them and an annoying CRT monitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I have now is my primary box and some extra hard drives and random cards. The next step is to do something I haven't done in years. I plan on putting the sides on my case ... with thumb screws and everything. It'll probably take 2 cans of air to do it, but I'm fairly confident it can be done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-2203730282322677079?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/2203730282322677079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=2203730282322677079' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/2203730282322677079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/2203730282322677079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2008/04/pruning-dead-leaves.html' title='Pruning Dead Leaves'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-5056461364393581914</id><published>2007-12-23T18:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T00:52:03.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Statement of Intent</title><content type='html'>I don't have more time. I just decided I wanted to do this. So, this is the Sun before XMas. My batteries are recharging. I got to go to Cali to Cali to Cali. YAY. Smell the air. You catch that? They're called the Winds of Change. I have recently started reevaluating the person I have allowed myself to become. Long ago, I looked at my long term goals. They required me to go into a sort of hibernation mode. It has served me well. I have reached the goals I required of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hibernation mode is no longer required. It's time. It will likely take me a month to get myself geared up, but it should be an interesting month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have recently been in a couple of situations where I have come to realize that my hibernation mode is no longer working. I know this is all a bit cryptic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, I'm bored. I need more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-5056461364393581914?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/5056461364393581914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=5056461364393581914' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/5056461364393581914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/5056461364393581914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-dont-have-more-time.html' title='Statement of Intent'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-2095279829983440542</id><published>2007-08-13T14:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T17:27:48.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>S M R T</title><content type='html'>"I am so smart S -M -R -T" -Homer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday night I went to bed later than I should. No legitimate reason. I just never got around to going to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slept 4 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, my Ward had a camp out. That was fun. We ate, hung out, and as soon as the ecclesiastical leadership went to sleep, the tunes came out. The guy that did all the planning came prepared and we danced around the campfire to random tunes and quite a bit of Latin Music. I got to shake my Bon-Bon. It looked very pagan and decadent. We finally shut it down after 1:30 am and I managed to get to bed in the general vicinity of 2 am. Very general vicinity. Someone was nice enough to loan me a spare air mattress, so I slept as well a can be expected while camping, even though it partially deflated and I spent the night in search of a position where more than a small section of me was padded. I've got to get me one of those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slept 6 hours-ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday. We went to Payson Lake after breakfast. The original plan was to hang out and make our way there around noon-ish. The sun was bearing down on us at around 9:30. Sun won. We went to the lake. Canoes, cool people, cold-ish water, burning sun. Good food for lunch. Good times had by all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home and had the requisite 45 minute shower to wash the nature off me. I was beat to hell. I was supposed to hook up with some chick friends and go out to eat. They were then going to go to SLC to dace at a Latin club and I was going to ditch them and get some much-needed sleep. Yeah... I got to their place and found out they had to make an appearance at a work party.  The work party turned out to be for my favorite personality types. You know, the ones responsible for getting people to buy stuff. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;. They did have Latin music there, though. It was a decent DJ and the girls wanted to dance 2 songs before we took off. 2 songs turned into 2+ hours. I'm not sure on the time. I found my happy place and danced there. I was at the point where the DJ played 3 slow songs in a row and I almost fell asleep from exhaustion. The fast songs were good, though. They kept me awake just fine. We finally made our way to some 24 hour Mexican place. If I was smart, I would have found a nice comfy chair after the 5th song and had them wake me up when they were ready. Oh well. I had fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slept ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no reliable memory of when I went to sleep or when I woke up for early morning meetings before putting in an 8+ hour day on sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is 2 days before a week-long marathon of long distance driving and running around Disney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S M R T&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-2095279829983440542?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/2095279829983440542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=2095279829983440542' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/2095279829983440542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/2095279829983440542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2007/08/s-m-r-t.html' title='S M R T'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-3803645062450031498</id><published>2007-07-31T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T14:54:30.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT...</title><content type='html'>... YOU WERE FINALLY RID OF ME:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life got a little complicated there for a bit. I am sure many of you are asking yourselves: "What could possibly complicate **'s life?" Well, since you asked nicely, I'll tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;GIRLS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I'm not smart enough to pick one and run. I have to start getting to know a couple at a time. Of course they know each other. It would make too much sense to do it otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough of that. I decided it was time to simplify my life. That means less girls. That means more time for the little things like sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-3803645062450031498?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/3803645062450031498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=3803645062450031498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/3803645062450031498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/3803645062450031498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2007/07/just-when-you-thought.html' title='JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT...'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-7333691787623274651</id><published>2007-03-12T09:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-12T11:27:20.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Plan B</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to go snowboarding for the second time in my life this Saturday. That didn't happen. I was going to go with my bro, but he and his wife would have been leaving the next day for a week-long cruise. They decided it would not be in his best interest to go. By that, I mean she let him know that if he tried anything strange and broke off a leg, he would have to drag his bloody stump around the ship, Catalina, and Mexico. Somehow, reason won out. We're going when they get back. They get back Fri night and we're going Sat. Poor B-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tard&lt;/span&gt; is probably going to sleep through Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I had an opportunity to go with a plan B. Last week, this chick at work mentioned Red Iguana (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mexican&lt;/span&gt; restaurant in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;SLC&lt;/span&gt; - Good Stuff). I hadn't been in many months and started craving it pretty bad. Darn her to Heck. So, with the opportunity, we went to see 300 at the Gateway and then went to Red Iguana. 300 was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. The food was great. The problem now is that I want more. I snagged a take-out menu. I wonder if they deliver to AF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my last post, I mentioned I should probably start asking girls out on actual dates. Well, a day or so later I get an email from a chick in my Ward asking me out. We're going out this week. I learned long ago that when the Universe tells you to jump, you jump or you get a kick to the head. Metaphorically speaking. I don't know very much about her, but I guess that's what the date is for. Note to self: Be toned down. I'm not entirely sure she can handle my personality full-force. I'm not misrepresenting myself. I see it as more like "measured doses" and protecting the innocent. Keep my Latin-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ness&lt;/span&gt; in check. (am I joking?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-7333691787623274651?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/7333691787623274651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=7333691787623274651' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/7333691787623274651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/7333691787623274651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2007/03/plan-b.html' title='Plan B'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-6077215624241266583</id><published>2007-03-01T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T15:36:30.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Therapy</title><content type='html'>Last night was fun. Sort of. Ok, let's say therapeutic, then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Background:&lt;br /&gt;I moved into an apt maybe 6 months ago.The three other roomies are either never around or live in their rooms. The one I have the most contact with, I see about once a week. When I moved in, there was no storage, so whatever didn't fit in my room went in the living room with all the stuff that was already there. I wasn't overly concerned because I usually only sleep there. It was kind of sad when I had to take a carload of stuff to cook for some girls because I was ashamed of them seeing my place. I guess I'm over that, since I'm putting it here. My things are in the plastic containers and the boxes on the left. The boxes in back are from a roomie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6NKf8pKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ax8M3xpbxGQ/s1600-h/Closet.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6NKf8pKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ax8M3xpbxGQ/s320/Closet.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037058706068251810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6g6f8pMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/pR1pCKabo7Y/s1600-h/Living2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6g6f8pMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/pR1pCKabo7Y/s320/Living2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037059045370668226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6aqf8pLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8cd6TnDSiFQ/s1600-h/Living1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6aqf8pLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8cd6TnDSiFQ/s320/Living1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037058937996485810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was finally sick of it and was going to talk to the roomie whose stuff is all over, when another roomie complained to management. PR (pack rat) did not take it well. He was all angry that someone dared to question his actions in even a roundabout way. I saw an opportunity. The roomie was more concerned with it looking messy than concerned about all the stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took all his boxen (yeah, I know) out of shelves inside and a lot of the ones in the outside storage area and threw them in the living room. I figure this way, his girlfriend can see that it's his stuff that's out of control. I assume she thought it was mine, since mine was in front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did it because he wasn't about to and his mother wasn't available. This is what 80 boxes of books looks like. Mind you, I am only counting the UHaul boxes I personally stacked, not any of the others on the side or the ones still scattered around the apartment or the damaged boxen still in storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6xqf8pNI/AAAAAAAAAA8/0QIdLXKinHU/s1600-h/Finish1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6xqf8pNI/AAAAAAAAAA8/0QIdLXKinHU/s320/Finish1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037059333133477074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/RedBPqf8pOI/AAAAAAAAABU/tqplNXqaHVA/s1600-h/Finish2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/RedBPqf8pOI/AAAAAAAAABU/tqplNXqaHVA/s320/Finish2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037066445599319266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the roomie shows up when I'm done and slips into a "concerned salesman" voice and tries to share his concern with me moving the modem and router to my room. Everyone has been tripping over the cables, so he can put it in his room on top of one of the stacks of books that cover every flat surface, or he can cope. I was nice about it, although I didn't do much more than pause while doing my own thing. I figure you're not allowed an opinion if you say you're going to rent your own storage space, then ignore reminders to do so. I cleaned it, so I "own" it. I have no problem notifying you of changes, but I'm not asking permission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old related story:&lt;br /&gt;When I moved into the apt, there was a lot of stuff in the fridge. I checked with the roomies (took me a couple of weeks to track them down) and none had anything but milk in there. I went through and threw away so much stuff. It was disgusting. There was stuff in there that had expired 2 years before. I went as far as to throw away anything that offended me, including some pots and pans someone had likely put in the cupboard years ago without washing. That made the kitchen mine. I arrange things how I see fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will likely be one of the few times you'll hear me whine like this. I don't like to whine, it serves no purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tension releasing rant over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-6077215624241266583?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/6077215624241266583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=6077215624241266583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/6077215624241266583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/6077215624241266583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2007/03/therapy.html' title='Therapy'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/Rec6NKf8pKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ax8M3xpbxGQ/s72-c/Closet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-117261854472336609</id><published>2007-02-27T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T16:15:23.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Thought I'd Forgotten About You</title><content type='html'>I know it's been a while since anyone has heard from me. I make no apologies. I'm worth the wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me catch you up on my life. Christmas was nice. I was able to go to Cali. I gave a lift to a chick friend of mine who passed out just outside Provo and woke up as we were coming up on St George. She slept through Winter and woke up in Summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/ReTJPKf8pII/AAAAAAAAAAM/MTWENvyf2NM/s1600-h/Winter.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/ReTJPKf8pII/AAAAAAAAAAM/MTWENvyf2NM/s320/Winter.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036371545660630146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/ReTJdaf8pJI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EVmxXJvvgnM/s1600-h/Summer.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/ReTJdaf8pJI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EVmxXJvvgnM/s320/Summer.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036371790473766034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time with the fam was nice. The drive back was interesting. Jesus was my copilot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7082/3228/1600/787217/CoPilot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7082/3228/320/106847/CoPilot.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove back on Christmas Day, so the Po-Po were with their fams. I found a pack of cars going a little faster than your average bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7082/3228/1600/853181/Fast.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7082/3228/320/692284/Fast.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This shot was taken a little later on and shows how close the cars in the pack were to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7082/3228/1600/155578/Pack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7082/3228/320/382497/Pack.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did see one car get pulled over, but that was a bright red mustang going much faster than even we were going. For the Law Enforcement readers out there, this actually happened with a professional driver in a closed course. Do not try this at home, children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work:&lt;br /&gt;The takeover continues slowly. My department was acquired by a corporate partner who happens to have a competing software. Happy New Year to you too. The original estimates on the transition were 3 months with a possibility of 8 months. Almost 2 months later, only a couple of people on their management side have even seen our software. They are still working out procedural stuff. I'm not certain the Decision Makers were fully aware of exactly how much goes into supporting our particular software. We have a lot running on the back end and we do a lot of troubleshooting on the Windows side. The actual managers charged with making it happen have so much to do. I don't envy them. I'm probably going to be one of the last few people transitioned back into the company, since I am still considered one of the Senior techs for some reason, but not before my position is dissolved and I return to the phones full-time. yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Social:&lt;br /&gt;I have access to so many good people, it's not even funny. Props to the Sushi Crew. Props to the Latin Dance Gang. Props to the worshippers at the altar of the Box with an X on it (even though my schedule makes me a non-practicing believer). Props to the people who help me get through work without doing what the voices in my head tell me to do. I think the voices come from my headphones, but I can't prove it. Props to all my homies in County in Cell Block 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twice now, my Local Ecclesiastical Figure has sat me down to give me some recommendations on girls to get to know better. The Maternal Parental Unit has taken a break from asking about girls, but you can almost hear her biting her tongue. This might be an opportune time to take my interactions from an informal basis to a more "actually ask girls out on legitimate dates" thing. Oh well. Had to happen sometime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-117261854472336609?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/117261854472336609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=117261854472336609' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/117261854472336609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/117261854472336609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2007/02/you-thought-id-forgotten-about-you.html' title='You Thought I&apos;d Forgotten About You'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hepQ-8iWvsA/ReTJPKf8pII/AAAAAAAAAAM/MTWENvyf2NM/s72-c/Winter.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-116474556690653094</id><published>2006-11-28T12:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T12:28:44.213-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;Wednesday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove down to Cali after work. Pretty uneventful, except for the part where I offended the Carnivore God. We stopped at the California Embassy in Vegas. Commonly known as IN-N-Out. I went in to order and asked for a #1 Monster Style. For those that know exactly what kind of sin that is, I have some words in my defense: I had just driven 4-5 hours after a full 8 hr day on 4 1/2 hours of sleep. The guy behind the counter wouldn't even look at me when he corrected me. "You mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;animal&lt;/span&gt; style?" I thought that shame was the only payment that would be exacted of me, but the Carnivore God is a mean sofonabirch. I was feeling a little off by the time we hit Cali and my bro drove the last bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;Thursday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slept 10 hours. Woke up with a fever. Not about to let something like that ruin my day. It was a good day. We ate Pan con Pavo, which means the turkey gets finished off in my Mom's famous red sauce and served on a french bread roll. We did have some weirdness. It seems that in my absence, my fam has developed a taste for karaoke. They set up and started singing. Weird. We started planning our attack for Black Friday and did a recon run. 9:30 PM and each store on our list had enough people to already cover the vouchers that were going to be handed out. The stores had even already deployed security to make sure people don't kill each other until after they spend their money. We decided to sleep in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;Black Friday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had chills going to sleep and sweat through the night. Woke up with my fever still very much there. Headache. The world had a slight fuzziness to it. If I sat down and stood up quickly, I'd get woozy. Once again, not enough to slow me significantly. We ran around and hit the stores. Nothing worth getting. I did get to go to Fry's Electronics and look around. -insert heavenly choir-. I got some cables and an LED upgrade for my Mag light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;Tech Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Online stores and many tech places only half-heartedly compete in Black Friday. They release new things for Sat. The maternal parental unit wanted family togetherness time, so when the Sat paper came and the Tech Saturday deals were there, we made it a family trip, since it was on the way. I got my 19" lcd monitor for 160, with rebate down to 120. I also got my 2G miniSD card for my phone for 20. Now I can finally play with it for real. We went to San Pedro Harbor and ate at a seafood place. We were in the harbor and could see the container ships being unloaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Fresh is seeing your meal die in front of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/crabs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/crabs.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.5 lb Shrimp Fajita.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/PB250098.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/PB250098.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/PB250099.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/PB250099.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard Core Seagull. (look at his legs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/PB250097.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/PB250097.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunset.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/PB250107.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/PB250107.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/32189901-116474556690653094?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/116474556690653094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=116474556690653094' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116474556690653094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116474556690653094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/11/wednesday-i-drove-down-to-cali-after.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-116346090877849905</id><published>2006-11-13T15:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T15:35:08.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Latinosity</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, I hung out with some Latin chicks. It was interesting. I had my Latin-ness recharged. It used to get me in trouble (some girls dug it and got addicted. Long story), so I repressed it for a while. I had totally forgotten I can be loud when I let myself be. I learned long ago that I get what I want more often when I concentrate on the quiet intensity part of my personality rather than the fun-loving side, so I use what works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My native tongue is not Spanish. My native tongue is Spanglish. I tried to tell some stories in Spanish and ended up tripping over some words until I switched over to Spanglish. Good to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went Latin Dancing this weekend at a small club in town. Salsa Chocolate. I was still sore from running, but I went anyway. It was an education. Half the girls I went with were fun to dance with and had it going on. The other half had no real inner rhythm and were mostly there to hang out. The fact that there are Latin girls out there with no rhythm makes me a sad panda. At least they weren't Salvadoran. I had managed to stay away from Latin Clubs for over a month now, but now that I had a taste again, I'm contemplating setting up a regular group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last couple of girls I've gone Latin Dancing with have all been gueritas with natural rhythm and fire. Rhythm, I don't require, but I decided many moons ago that I feel most comfortable with girls that have a certain fire. I don't know if I'll hang with all of these girls again, but I'm craving another Latin Club run.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-116346090877849905?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/116346090877849905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=116346090877849905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116346090877849905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116346090877849905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/11/latinosity.html' title='Latinosity'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-116318338532470733</id><published>2006-11-10T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T10:29:45.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning to Run</title><content type='html'>A couple of lessons I just learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Treadmills have guard rails for a reason. I found out I have a natural swagger. It seems that if you walk fast on a treadmill and swagger, you bump into the guard rails. I'm learning how to run in a straight line. You'd think that would have been a lesson I learned at the age of 1, but you'd be wrong. My Mommy always said I was special, I just always assumed she meant it the other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that there is something you're supposed to do before you run, I keep forgetting. What could it possibly be? Hmmm... &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;SHIN CRAMP&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;TOO PROUD TO GET OFF THE D@m&amp;D MACHINE&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;LIMPING ON FOR ANOTHER MILE AND A HALF&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;BE A MAN, WALK IT OFF&lt;/span&gt;...Oh yeah, STRETCH. I must remember to schedule myself a reminder on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're only getting 5 hours of sleep, 5am workouts are not going to happen. Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Workout gear for men becomes a workout outfit when it can only be used inside a gym. Tshirt and shorts, people. You're in a climate-controlled building.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-116318338532470733?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/116318338532470733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=116318338532470733' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116318338532470733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116318338532470733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/11/learning-to-run.html' title='Learning to Run'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-116224728159343004</id><published>2006-10-30T14:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T14:31:33.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Under Pressure</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A couple of months ago, my maternal parental unit recommended I get a physical. She is usually a pretty inspired woman, so I put it off for a bit and finally went. I'm healthy. The only thing the doc said was that my blood pressure was a tad high. I was just glad he did a regular physical and not a "full" physical. He recommended I drop some pounds and it would go away on its own. I weighed in at 210. He wasn't overly concerned, so I wasn't overly concerned. I started eating a little more healthily, but that's it. Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. I went to donate blood at work and they told me they would have rejected me if my pressure was one point higher. I was at 189/99. That's just pathetic, when something like pressure might keep me from giving. My sister in law ended up with some "friends and family" coupons to her gym. It was actually a sweet deal, so I signed up. I've gone once and it was with a Runner/Ballroom Dancer from work. Needless to say, we are at slightly different performance levels. It was cool though, it was good to have the contrast there. I will outdo her; it's just a matter of putting in the time. Yeah, you heard me. I am doing a stepped goal system. I know what I want and I know I get a little overzealous, so I am forcing myself to concentrate on just one thing for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;The last time I got into physical fitness, I would be restless until I had a chance to "get well" by taking my bike on a midnight sprint up a nearby large hill. Did I mention I'm prone to addictions? It would take more and more to get the burn I needed. Not as fun as you'd think in 14 degree weather. I have a scar in my eyebrow from that era. Long story. Let's just say I protected the important parts of my body by skidding on my face. I maneuvered that one into a hookup with a girl I was into. Another long story. Moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I may play with strength training, but I won't let myself get into it until I get my pressure at a manageable level. Until then, I will swallow some pride and let everyone around me go at what feels like 50 mph while I walk and jog myself into a position where I can eat up 2 miles in no time flat, exercise-induced asthma or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-116224728159343004?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/116224728159343004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=116224728159343004' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116224728159343004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116224728159343004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/10/under-pressure.html' title='Under Pressure'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-116015802764158353</id><published>2006-10-06T07:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T11:07:07.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surreal</title><content type='html'>Long time ago, I lived in a house with my bro and some friends. We called it "The Zoo". Fun place. Many stories, none of which will ever end up in any kind of printed form, on pain of castration. One of his buddies had a girl he was close to. They were on buddy status then. She had already been on a mission when they hung out forever ago. He went on a mission a little later than most about a year or so after we left the house.. Fast forward to yesterday, 10/5/06. They've been dating for a while now (year?). Everyone has been expecting them to get married and get it over with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is involved in a &lt;a href="http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&amp;sid=542878"&gt;car accident&lt;/a&gt; and dies.  This is not one of those times when it would likely have made a difference if she had gotten on the road 5 minutes later. That dump truck went straight for her. A quote comes to mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When God ordains a man’s time to die, he directs him to the proper place.” Dr Kines in Frank Herbert’s "DUNE"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was actually "good people". We didn't interact tons, but we were friendly. I went out with her roommate a couple of times. She's the first person in my age bracket that I've known to pass away. I'm more than a little wierded out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know her family. My concern is with her guy. My bro's friend. He has had heavy interaction with her now in one way or another for probably the last 5 years. This is going to be a major blow to him. After all this passes to the point that he can cope again, he will either be rock solid and live with the possibility of seeing her again some day, or will go off the deep end into hedonism as a way of "kicking against the pricks" (Biblical, don't worry about it). We all care about him and are concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm selfishly wierded out because I know them both.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-116015802764158353?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/116015802764158353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=116015802764158353' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116015802764158353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/116015802764158353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/10/surreal.html' title='Surreal'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115980915223884030</id><published>2006-10-02T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T10:12:32.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clint Eastwood Bursting Into Song</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, channel surfing is a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I landed on what looked like an old west flick that had both Clint Eastwood and Lee Marvin (Dirty Dozen, Delta Force, etc). I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was not Clint Eastwood strolling through a meadow, singing about his feelings towards the wife Lee Marvin just bought in auction from a supposed mormon. The same wife they would later share because they both want her and she wants them both and they are in Northern Cali somewhere where there is no law and they make up their laws as they go along. (long sentence, I know)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I just suffered a Chaka Buku-esque paradigm shift. I need to get realigned. I think I'm going to have to make time today to either play football, rugby, or watch Predator and a Bond flick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scratch. Grunt. Spit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115980915223884030?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115980915223884030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115980915223884030' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115980915223884030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115980915223884030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/10/clint-eastwood-bursting-into-song.html' title='Clint Eastwood Bursting Into Song'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115929126954790007</id><published>2006-09-26T10:16:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T10:41:11.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mango Coke</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Last time I went to Chili's, I asked for a Vanilla Coke and it tasted funny. They apologized and let me know the Mango and Vanilla flavor bottles are the same color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was intrigued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I actuallly ordered it on purpose. Not bad at all. I recommend it, but then again, I am a little strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it catches on, remember you heard it here first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blockbuster Online sent me Sledge Hammer Season 1 Disk 1. Cheesy glorification of action violence. The 80's served their purpose. It is so cheesy it's actually cool. Think A-Team meets Airplane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you familiar with the Computer/Electronics Heaven commonly known as Fry's Electronics, it will interest you to know that the mockery that was Outpost.com who had Frys.com has now been taken care of. &lt;a href="http://frys.com/"&gt;Frys.com&lt;/a&gt; now legitimately belongs to Fry's. All hail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115929126954790007?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115929126954790007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115929126954790007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115929126954790007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115929126954790007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/09/mango-coke.html' title='Mango Coke'/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115812729222453933</id><published>2006-09-12T22:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T23:04:36.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got a call from my buddy. He wanted to let me know that he was in Georgia. No other reason than to let me know that he was in Georgia on his way to a Shakira concert.  Small detail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had an extra seat he ended up with. He found some random hot chick trying to get her hands on scalped tickets and picked her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd row. $200 seats he got for free because he's friends with a guy who's friends with a guy who's friends with a guy in her band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his words, "I was close enough to see the sweat drip off her abs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jealousy is a bad thing. I'm not jealous. -bastard- I am beyond such petty feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then randomly mentions that he's damaged for life. Not only for having seen her so close, but also because he noticed he was surrounded by women he considered hotter than even Shakira on straight looks, not on moves or projected sensuality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-bastard- &lt;em&gt;That's his new name. I told him so.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not jealous at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115812729222453933?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115812729222453933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115812729222453933' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115812729222453933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115812729222453933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-got-call-from-my-buddy.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115643849522883610</id><published>2006-08-24T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T09:54:55.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is my new baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/blksentra.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/blksentra.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what Pastrami from The Hat looks like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/TheHat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/TheHat.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel my arteries hardening in a good way. Yum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115643849522883610?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115643849522883610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115643849522883610' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115643849522883610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115643849522883610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/this-is-my-new-baby.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115629741475617905</id><published>2006-08-22T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-24T09:11:59.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The Saga continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at a ward party in my old ward and ate tons of meat. Praises to the Carnivore God, at whose fiery altars barbecueing worshippers must sacrifice tasty beasts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/meat.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/meat.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/1600/Meat2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7082/3228/320/Meat2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my little sister has me drive home with her. She took the oportunity to hit Wendy's for frosties and have a chat. Guess what it was about. She took her turn trying to convince me to move to Cali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drove to UT. Sad. Stopped in Vegas to visit my Aunt and Grandma. Take a wild guess what that talk was about. I've got to hand it to my Mother. The woman is thourough. If anyone ever wonders why I have such a strong personality, they just have to take a peek at her. Early on, I learned I could either arm myself or submit. Bring on the guns.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115629741475617905?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115629741475617905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115629741475617905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115629741475617905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115629741475617905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/saga-continues.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115602139537208696</id><published>2006-08-19T13:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T16:44:52.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have a new car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad was thinking of having me look at PT Cruisers because there is a dealership trying to get rid of their 06 models to make room for the 07 models. I get here and tons and tons of people have Cruisers. I had a little birdie chirp in my ear that they may fall apart in 4 years, so we looked at alternatives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The high-pressure sales day for dealers is Saturday. They put specials in the paper on fri to get people to come in on sat. Fri's LA Times had an ad for Sentras that looked really nice. Our sales person was this 19 year old kid. Good guy. We set up the sale and there must have been a miscommunication or something (diplomatic language) because some numbers got fudged between the manager and the guy that actually finishes filling out the paperwork and gets signatures. My Dad had to correct their math twice. Thank Goodness he was there. I was already in the "automatic yes" mode I get in when I read an EULA. I was ready to just get my car and get out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went from a maroon 94 Sentra to a black 06 Sentra with 10 miles on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115602139537208696?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115602139537208696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115602139537208696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115602139537208696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115602139537208696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-have-new-car.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115588550352085574</id><published>2006-08-17T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T00:22:34.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wednesday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it the 625 miles to my house in 9 hours. I went 5 over the limit the whole time and was worrying that my little Sentra wouldn't make it. The longest I'd driven her in one go for the past couple of years is maybe 2hrs straight. She did me proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out to lunch with my mom and we chatted amicably. We then went home and the fun began. I entered Beach Boy Hell. She spent an hour and a half extolling the virtues of California Girls. **I wish they all could be California Girls...** I think she might have been saving that one up for a special occasion, because I'd never heard it before. The novelty of a new lecture wore off in a second. It is rather disturbing to have my mother try to convince me how hot local girls are. Up to now, she's been fine as long as I tell her I'm dating when she calls in to check up on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either my mom and sister have been talking about me or they both had the same idea. I hung out with her and her kids today. They are beyond cute and intelligent, but have so much natural energy that I can understand how my sister gets skinnier every time I see her. It's all that child-related cardio. So she starts giving me a different but related lecture on the benefits of a California Girl and recommendation to move to Cali, where I can make much more money with my current skill set. Dang it people, I came to Cali to shop for a car. I left my 8 cows in Utah. I didn't think I'd need them for a week-long trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, I do get to spend time with the fam. I needed it bad. Whether or not I agree with their opinions as to where to live, I get a lot of strength from them. These last two days with them has done alot to help me regain the focus I'd lost recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I forget, My little niece's first name is Belle. Middle name Miriam. Well, this little girl is 4 and a force of nature. She was born naturally friendly and flirty. She refuses to wear anything that she considers will make her look like a boy in any way. She tosses her hair instinctually and has a shoe fetish. Age 4. She did not get any of this from her parents or people around her. She was literally born like this. When she asked, her mom jokingly told her she couldn't wear lipstick until she's married. I recommended they be armed by her 14th birthday. There's a little girl that's going to be hard to keep icky boys away from.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115588550352085574?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115588550352085574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115588550352085574' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115588550352085574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115588550352085574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/wednesday-i-made-it-625-miles-to-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115566321350463836</id><published>2006-08-15T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T10:33:33.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm going down to Cali&lt;br /&gt;To Cali,&lt;br /&gt;To Cali,&lt;br /&gt;I'm going down to Cali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell Yeah!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to take some paid time off before the end of the month or I lose it. This state does not force companies to allow people to cash out PTO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, I have a week where I get paid to disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the universe is converging on me. I have to take time off. I have been planning on getting a new car, and my car decides to reinforce the decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, the lock wouldn't catch on the driver's side door. I was on my way to Megan's BDay party, so Luke hooked me up with a lift. Something funny about that, Megan was a little concerned that my gift might be inappropriate for her younger siblings to see. I can't imagine what would possibly give her that suspicion. I'm so innocent it hurts. ;-p When I went home, I had to hold my door closed as I drove. Centripetal force is alive and well, let me tell you. I had some daylight left, so I dropped some WD 40 on the latch and I got it to close finally. The problem now is that the door won't open now. There is something internal. I've been getting around by climbing in through the passanger door. Lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my baby Sentra, but it's time to replace her. I'm taking my vacation time to go to Cali and look for a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In N Out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Hat (pastrami)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fry's Electronics (imagine the bastard child of Best Buy and CompUSA double the size of a COSTCO)  --drool--&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115566321350463836?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115566321350463836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115566321350463836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115566321350463836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115566321350463836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-going-down-to-cali-to-cali-to-cali.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115498779241982831</id><published>2006-08-07T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T09:39:44.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday.&lt;br /&gt;I showed up late to help my x pack her friend's truck. There were already a bunch of people there, so it was practically done by the time I arrived. We all went out to eat and scattered. I was busy on thur, so she wanted to hang out before she left. It was maybe 10 before she had time, so we watched a movie. She was tired, so she passed out and I woke her up when the movie ended and drove her home.  We said goodbye. She's a good person and I wish her luck in her new state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sat.&lt;br /&gt;Ran errands and went to a work party. It took me a while to get into it because I was so weirded out about being at work on a Sat. It was good to kick it with people from work in a social setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun.&lt;br /&gt;Finished crunching numbers and it looks like I've spent more than 1K on car repairs since Jan. Not cool. I've been getting all my financial info in order to get ready to buy a car. I can stretch to afford payments, but it would mean going on a budget and being responsible in my spending habits. Poo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more reason Utah doesn't make sense: The cars in dealer lots don't have prices on the windshields. They make you walk up to the car to look at the sticker. They probably think they are being sneaky and making people interact with the sales people. What they don't realize is that Utahns are cheap bastards (ask any waiter/waitress). If you don't mark prices, only people that have already decided to buy will show up. The people that are deciding will go where they can get info.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like I'm going to Cali, where they really want to sell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115498779241982831?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115498779241982831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115498779241982831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115498779241982831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115498779241982831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/weekend.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115471998855999750</id><published>2006-08-04T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T09:35:19.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, last night was interesting. I went on a date with a chick I knew a year ago. She's been in another state and randomly moved back. We actually click pretty well. There are only a couple of things that are a little off-putting. God has already told her whom she is going to marry, but he doesn't know it yet. That, and she's into Wican "meditation" techniques, whatever the hell that means. Am I being too picky? I actually haven't decided if I want to pursue anything. She is interesting and there is no danger of it going too far, since I'm not supposed to be her husband. Am I not being picky enough? I hereby dub her *Parris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Explanation: I don't feel right using the actual names of girls when telling stories. Ever since I started dating, I've been using code names for each girl. I've even been in situations where I tell a girl her own story under her unknown code name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115471998855999750?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115471998855999750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115471998855999750' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115471998855999750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115471998855999750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/so-last-night-was-interesting.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32189901.post-115471125388875820</id><published>2006-08-04T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T10:07:33.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I guess it's time I joined the world and started posting. Up to now, it's been a point of personal rebellion being the only person I know without a blog. I'm a rebel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32189901-115471125388875820?l=piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/feeds/115471125388875820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32189901&amp;postID=115471125388875820' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115471125388875820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32189901/posts/default/115471125388875820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://piratascarpenoctum.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-guess-its-time-i-joined-world-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Carpe Noctum</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00876686638994641149</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
