<?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-19516242</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:04:36.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Farpastyle</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19516242.post-3670409953636571168</id><published>2009-07-27T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T09:05:41.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dump!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-809e1cdaa8a3aae9" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D809e1cdaa8a3aae9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330206677%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D82A1FBE99A6B84317EAC4D18943908667651E37E.1761F7A04D8BAB43C38D2AE0FC485EB1A935F002%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D809e1cdaa8a3aae9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DZ-j2Co2vvJYT-Jq_GyvO3AuHHeg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D809e1cdaa8a3aae9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330206677%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D82A1FBE99A6B84317EAC4D18943908667651E37E.1761F7A04D8BAB43C38D2AE0FC485EB1A935F002%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D809e1cdaa8a3aae9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DZ-j2Co2vvJYT-Jq_GyvO3AuHHeg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This video and dance is for anyone who has ever been at an event where there's dancing. You know what I mean, you're out there on the floor and the dreaded "circle" forms. People are forced to go dance in a circle surrounded by other partiers. Sure, women have it easy. They go into the circle, wiggle around and look sexy, even if they have no idea what they're doing. But if you're a guy, and you can't bring it like Michael Jackson or that kid from "Stomp The Yard," what do you do? You're going to look like a fool no matter what you do, so why not do...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"The Dump"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This dance was fueled, quite possibly, by too much tequila at a friend's wedding in Mexico. Thanks to my co-dancer Dan for looking like an idiot (and by idiot, I mean GENIUS) with me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Stay tuned for future videos of new dances I've created to help you out!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S.- I'm the one in white...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-3670409953636571168?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=809e1cdaa8a3aae9&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/3670409953636571168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=3670409953636571168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/3670409953636571168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/3670409953636571168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2009/07/dump.html' title='The Dump!'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-114243301911544519</id><published>2006-03-15T06:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T06:30:19.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twisted Sister</title><content type='html'>While rocking out to Twisted Sister, on the arena rock channel, for BMMan Jr. this morning, I was reminded of the best use of a song in a movie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the scene in Iron Eagle where Dougie Masterson's friends (I forgot what they called themselves, but I'm sure someone who posts on here will...however, if you look it up online, I will be far less impressed), which I think included the kid who played Oliver on the Brady Bunch, run around the Air Force base tricking people into giving them maps and plans and stuff, all while "We're Not Gonna Take It" plays in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-114243301911544519?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/114243301911544519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=114243301911544519' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114243301911544519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114243301911544519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/03/twisted-sister.html' title='Twisted Sister'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19516242.post-114234714735440004</id><published>2006-03-14T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T06:39:07.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If A Tree Falls In The Forest...</title><content type='html'>Apparently, Winger released a greatest hits collection in 2001.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-114234714735440004?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/114234714735440004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=114234714735440004' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114234714735440004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114234714735440004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/03/if-tree-falls-in-forest.html' title='If A Tree Falls In The Forest...'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-114226107913443243</id><published>2006-03-13T06:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T06:44:39.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Quick Reminder</title><content type='html'>This morning, I was reminided of one of the reasons I married my wife:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were changing BMMan Junior's third dump filled diaper of the morning, I called him by his mob name, "Moosie Three Poops," when she bust out, with no prompting, "C 3 Poopio!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe someday he'll have his sidekick, R 2 Dump 2!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-114226107913443243?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/114226107913443243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=114226107913443243' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114226107913443243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114226107913443243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/03/quick-reminder.html' title='A Quick Reminder'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-114123086181472761</id><published>2006-03-01T08:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T08:07:49.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Songs I'll Never Turn Off</title><content type='html'>Listening to the radio in the car the other day, I came up with a list of songs that I will never turn off if they come on the radio:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paradise City/Sweet Child O' Mine - GnR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dream On/Cryin'/Dude Looks Like A Lady - Aerosmith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa Monica - Everclear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't Look Back In Anger - Oasis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Shook Me All Night Long/Highway To Hell/Money Talks/Thunderstruck - AC/DC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honky Tonk Woman - The Stones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FreeBird - Lynyrd Skynyrd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Story Of My Life - Social Distortion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait - White Lion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Got Back - Sir Mix A Lot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many many more songs, both by these artists and others that I would never turn off, but the problem is I would never hear most of them on the radio in the first place. Feel free to add others to the list...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-114123086181472761?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/114123086181472761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=114123086181472761' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114123086181472761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114123086181472761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/03/songs-ill-never-turn-off.html' title='Songs I&apos;ll Never Turn Off'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19516242.post-114106327467029288</id><published>2006-02-27T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T10:09:54.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Theyah mysogenatin, and they ain't even old timey!"</title><content type='html'>-The above quote is one of my favorites from "O Brother Where Art thou," which brings me to my first thought...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like rap music and/or hip-hop. Never have, and I probably never will. That said, my sister-in-law gave us a mix she made and on it were two songs which reinforced my theory that I WOULD like rap/hip-hop if it actually had any music accompanying it. There was one of thos mix songs of "Man of Constant Sorrow" mixed with "Hollaback Girl" (I know, not exactly rap or hip-hop), and it actually sounds pretty good. But what impressed me even more, was how much I liked Nelly's "Country Grammar" when it was dubbed over "Sweet Home Alabama."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I dug out my copy of Reel Big Fish's "Why Do They Rock So Hard" yesterday and played it while I was feeding BMMan Jr. That's a great album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ok, I know that I may be alienating all of the people who read this and post on here (mainly because I can name most of you), but this really bugs me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hollywood liberals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a democrat. I voted for Clinton twice, Gore (I mean, how could you not vote for him, he invented the internet), and finally Kerry. I generally fall on the democrat side of most issues. That said, the ultra liberals in Hollywood (just as the ultra conservatives do) make me sick. It's one thing when someone intelligent speaks about their liberal views. I may not agree, but I realize that there is some intelligence and thought behind what they're saying. BUt actors and musicians should just shut-up. This is why I don't like it when actors and musicians end up getting political, because ultimately, I disagree with what they're saying and end up not likeing them anymore. Here are two classic examples, with the most recent and, to me, offensive:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GREEN DAY: I was never the biggest Green Day fan, but I always liked some of their stuff. However, they have alienated me forever with their idiotic (appropriately) American Idiot. If you want to be against the war, that's your prerogative (As Bobby Brown sang, "You can do what you want to do."). But then they have "Holiday" in which they compare Bush to Hitler. I find this insanely inappropriate and pretty offensive to boot. I don't like Bush and I think he's an idiot, but there is a galaxy of difference between Bush and Hitler and to even compare Bush to Hitler is just flat out wrong. Hey Green Day, if you think Bush is really like that, maybe you should leave the country and go live somewhere that'll be more accepting of you and your views. A-holes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim Robbins and Suan Sarandon: Not offensive, just flat-out stupid. I saw an interview with them a few summers ago after the Baseball Hall of Fame uninvited them from a celebration they were having for the 15th Anniversary of the release of "Bull Durham." They were uninvited because of their stance on the war in Iraq. Robbins started spouting off about how the Hall of Fame was violating their Fourth Amendment rights. Oh really Tim? What did they illegally search and seize from you? Oh, wait, you meant the FIRST Amendment? My bad. Oh, that's right, they're a private organization, which means they can do whatever the hell they want. Before you get up on a soapbox and start spouting off your nonsense, try having an idea what you're talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-114106327467029288?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/114106327467029288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=114106327467029288' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114106327467029288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/114106327467029288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/02/theyah-mysogenatin-and-they-aint-even.html' title='&quot;Theyah mysogenatin, and they ain&apos;t even old timey!&quot;'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113993295138595185</id><published>2006-02-14T08:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T08:02:31.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Accident...</title><content type='html'>So on my way home from work on Thursday evening, I got into an accident. This stupid woman who was driving in the opposite direction, tried to make a left hand turn across the two lanes of traffic and drove head on into me. Luckily, she wasn't going too fast and I, going about 30 mph, was able to slam on the brakes. That said, my car is probably what the insurance company will consider "a total loss" because both of my airbags deployed and the transmission is probably what they call "all f---ed up" (don't feel bad if you've never heard that before, it's an industry term). This totally sucks because I'll get fair market value from the insurance company for my car, but that's probably nowhere near what I'll need to buy a new car, and nowhere near what it's ACTUAL value was to me (i.e., running and working).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the biggest indignity of the whole thing came afterwards while I was standing on the sidewalk waiting for the cops to show up. So of course, this happens on the coldest day of the year, and my nose was running a little bit. This guy came out of a nearby deli, and upon seeing my car on the sidewalk and me standing right there goes, "Oh my g-d, are you okay? Did you hit your nose?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amd I was like, "No, why, is it bleeding?" (I hadn't seen my reflection yet and felt my nose running, so I though maybe I had hit my nose on the airbag even though I didn't think I had).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, but it looks a little swollen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which I answered, dejectedly, "No, that's just my nose."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That story is probably a little funnier if you know me and know what my awful, four-times broken and crooked nose looks like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113993295138595185?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113993295138595185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113993295138595185' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113993295138595185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113993295138595185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/02/accident.html' title='Accident...'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19516242.post-113950936053479284</id><published>2006-02-09T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T10:22:40.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Actual Conversation...</title><content type='html'>So, I'm in the bathroom at work, and I was just finishing washing my hands when my boss walks in with a huge stack of bound handouts under his arm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: That's quite a lot of bathroom reading material.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boss: Oh, I'm just on my way upstairs with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (Uncomfortable chuckle).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113950936053479284?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113950936053479284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113950936053479284' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113950936053479284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113950936053479284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/02/actual-conversation.html' title='An Actual Conversation...'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113940987861855411</id><published>2006-02-08T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T06:44:38.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Son Laughs Like Beavis</title><content type='html'>That's it, that's the post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son laughs like Beavis. I would say he laughs like Butthead, but his voice isn't low enough yet. So when he laughs like that, I do the Butthead laugh and together we sound like Beavis and Butthead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figure it's never too early to start teaching him the important things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113940987861855411?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113940987861855411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113940987861855411' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113940987861855411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113940987861855411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/02/my-son-laughs-like-beavis.html' title='My Son Laughs Like Beavis'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113880605169584013</id><published>2006-02-01T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T07:02:18.940-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Animal Kingdom</title><content type='html'>I'm sure this conversation plays itself out in almost every relationship in America (at the appropriate moment, of course):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, let's do it doggy-style!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think dogs ever say to each other, "Hey, I'm tired of doing it this way. Let's do it human-style tonight!"? Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this got me thinking in the shower this morning: considering that just about every animal in the animal kingdom essentially does it doggy-style (at least from what I've seen on Animal Planet and related shows), why is it called "doggy-style?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer: Marketing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs are simply better at marketing themselves than all the other animals. Think about it. Alligators and lions could easily eat even the most ferocious dogs, but do we have pet lions and gators? Do we do it "Alligator-style" (well, I do, but that's another whole post in itself)? NO, and you know why? Marketing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just some random shower thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Disclaimer: Since I plan on using this in a comedy routine if I ever do stand-up again, I don't want to hear of any of you stealing this and using it for commercial gain. By all means, feel free to crack your co-workers, friends, and loved ones up with my hilarity, but you better not make any money off of it. Oh yeah, and credit me when you get a laugh from it)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113880605169584013?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113880605169584013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113880605169584013' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113880605169584013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113880605169584013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/02/animal-kingdom.html' title='The Animal Kingdom'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113873971511539569</id><published>2006-01-31T12:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T12:35:15.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Actual Conversation...</title><content type='html'>Here is an actual conversation I had today at work:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Old Lady: BMMan, do you know how Young Lady did on her little test?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Have you asked Young Lady?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old Lady: Yes, and she wouldn't tell us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hmm, interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old Lady: I know she did well the first time, but she wouldn't tell us how she did this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You know, you should really talk to her. I don't feel comfortable saying anything if she didn't tell you because it's her news to share."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Young Lady never told me how she did, but I knew it would drive Old Lady crazy. Ha ha ha ha ha. BWA ha ha ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113873971511539569?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113873971511539569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113873971511539569' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113873971511539569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113873971511539569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/actual-conversation.html' title='An Actual Conversation...'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113865335768295680</id><published>2006-01-30T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T12:35:57.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>17 Days Until Pitchers and Catchers Report to Spring Training</title><content type='html'>Yankees spring training begins in 17 days. Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know that most of the people who comment on here are not Yankees fans. BubbaRay and DanTobin are both Red Sox fans (I don't hold it against them. By the way guys, how WAS Brokeback Mountain: The Inside Story of the 2004 Red Sox?), and Boski is a White Sox fan (I actually have nothing against that at all, as long as Boski's not an avid Yankees-hater).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hockey used to be my favorite sport, and in some ways it probably still is (I can sit down and watch any hockey game at any level, but there's no way I'd sit down and watch the Brewers play the Diamondbacks), but the only sports season I really follow anymore with any sort of enthusiasm is the Yankees' season, and I don't think it has anything to do with my season on the inside in 1998. It's just the most interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113865335768295680?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113865335768295680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113865335768295680' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113865335768295680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113865335768295680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/17-days-until-pitchers-and-catchers.html' title='17 Days Until Pitchers and Catchers Report to Spring Training'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113837695875232576</id><published>2006-01-27T07:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T08:01:41.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indoor lacrosse</title><content type='html'>So last weekend I'm playing pick-up indoor lacrosse. I'm guarding this guy who's wearing a Syracuse helmet, even though I'm pretty sure he did NOT go to Cuse. For those of you who don't know anything about lacrosse, Syracuse is one of the top lacrosse teams every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Disclaimer: I'm generally the worst player on the field when I play indoor lacrosse, though there's one guy who plays in the pick-up games with less experience and/or skill than me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to the story. I'm guarding this guy with the Syracuse helmet, who I'm pretty sure didn't go there. I don't know how I know, I can just tell. So I say to him, "Wow, did you play at Syracuse?" And he goes, "No." To which I reply, "Hmm. That's sort of silly then, isn't it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't say anything, but I could tell he felt stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So later on in the game, this other guy, who's clearly one of the more talented players there, is guarding me, and he's laying off because he could probably tell that I'm not too skilled and he could probably tell that there was no way I was going to blow by him. So I get the ball and I wind up and fire a shot low, and I score a goal on a beautiful shot to the far low corner. I promptly stuck my stick between my legs and started to ride it like a horse, pretending to whip it, right past our bench. The guy who was guarding me gives me a really sour look, like next chance he got he was going to flatten me (sidenote: this is a no body checking game, so while there's stick checking and some incidental contact, you're not allowed to actually body check anyone).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I look at him and say, "That was one of the first lax goals I've ever scored." His whole expression changed and he was like, "Oh. Nice shot."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113837695875232576?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113837695875232576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113837695875232576' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113837695875232576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113837695875232576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/indoor-lacrosse_27.html' title='Indoor lacrosse'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113820468156912074</id><published>2006-01-25T07:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T07:58:01.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Top Thirty Facts about... Jack Bauer</title><content type='html'>I got this in an e-mail forward from BubbaRay, and it was too funny not to post. Kudos to whomever wrote this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top Thirty Facts about... Jack Bauer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can lead a horse to water. Jack Bauer can make him drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Jack Bauer was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Nina Meyers, and he had a gun with 2 bullets, he'd shoot Nina twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you wake up in the morning, it's because Jack Bauer spared your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon hearing that he was played by Kiefer Sutherland, Jack Bauer killed Sutherland. Jack Bauer gets played by no man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time you masturbate Jack Bauer kills a terrorist. Not because you masturbated, but because that is how often he kills terrorists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer once forgot where he put his keys. He then spent the next half-hour torturing himself until he gave up the location of the keys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Osama bin Laden's recent proposal for truce is a direct result of him finding out that Jack Bauer is, in fact, still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer was never addicted to heroin. Heroin was addicted to Jack Bauer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.6 billion Chinese are angry with Jack Bauer. Sounds like a fair fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer killed 93 people in just 4 days time. Wait, that is a real fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer let the dogs out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer doesn't miss. If he didn't hit you it's because he was shooting at another terrorist twelve miles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Superman wears Jack Bauer pajamas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Jack and MacGyver were locked in a room together, Jack would make a bomb out of MacGyver and get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer's favorite color is severe terror alert red. His second favorite color is violet, but just because it sounds like violent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer played Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun and won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets get one thing straight, the only reason you are conscious right now is because Jack Bauer does not feel like carrying you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer got Helen Keller to talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When life gave Jack Bauer lemons, he used them to kill terrorists. Jack Bauer ####### hates lemonade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quickest way to a man's heart is through Jack Bauer's gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you open a can of whoop-###, Jack Bauer jumps out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People with amnesia still remember Jack Bauer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Killing Jack Bauer doesn't make him dead. It just makes him angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer once won a game of Connect 4 in 3 moves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer can get McDonald's breakfast after 10:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer is the leading cause of death in Middle Eastern men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would only take 1 bullet for Jack Bauer to kill 50 Cent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer has been to Mars. That's why there's no life on Mars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simon Says should be renamed to Jack Bauer Says because if Jack Bauer says something then you better ####### do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real reason the Army ditched the Army of One campaign? Jack Bauer sued for copyright infringement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113820468156912074?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113820468156912074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113820468156912074' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113820468156912074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113820468156912074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/top-thirty-facts-about-jack-bauer.html' title='Top Thirty Facts about... Jack Bauer'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113811878455002093</id><published>2006-01-24T08:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T08:06:24.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>24, Hour 5 (11 a.m.-12 p.m.)</title><content type='html'>The Top 3 lines from last night's episode:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Spenser: "I don't care if you ARE my boss, or if you regret sleeping with me last night. No one talks to me that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Dim) Chloe: Really? I just did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. (Dim) Chloe to (Wussy) Edgar: "Ok, when we find the nerve gas and the alert level drops, we can have some chamomile tea and I'll tell you all my secrets, okay? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the #1 line from last night's episode...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mikey from the Goonies (aka, Rudy, or Sam, or whatever the hell his name was in Encino Man): "Without hard evidence, CTU can't touch him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Bauer: I'm not CTU. I'll go get Walt Cummings."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113811878455002093?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113811878455002093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113811878455002093' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113811878455002093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113811878455002093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/24-hour-5-11-am-12-pm.html' title='24, Hour 5 (11 a.m.-12 p.m.)'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113742827660534439</id><published>2006-01-16T08:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T08:18:02.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>24 Premiere</title><content type='html'>Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best line from last night's 24- Jack Bauer to annoying kid: "The only reason you're still conscious is because I don't want to carry you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113742827660534439?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113742827660534439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113742827660534439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113742827660534439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113742827660534439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/24-premiere.html' title='24 Premiere'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113742251919836515</id><published>2006-01-16T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T06:42:51.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute</title><content type='html'>When I woke up this morning, as I was getting ready for work, I thought about what I could do to honor Dr. King today, and how I could celebrate this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on my way to work, I listened to the local R &amp;amp; B/Hip-hop station and I let a black guy cut in front of me at a traffic light. I might watch a show on UPN tonight too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113742251919836515?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113742251919836515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113742251919836515' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113742251919836515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113742251919836515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/tribute.html' title='Tribute'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113726345797548020</id><published>2006-01-14T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-14T10:30:58.006-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Up City!</title><content type='html'>So, I found myself awake at 7:30 this morning, just in time to watch The Manchester Derby (pronounced "darby") between City and the wankers from United.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a glorious match, with City taking a 2-nil lead into the half. Ronaldo, one of the wankers, was red-carded for a high challenge and United was forced to play a man down. However, they scored to make it 2-1. But City added another goal in injury time to win 3-1!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UP CITY!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113726345797548020?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113726345797548020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113726345797548020' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113726345797548020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113726345797548020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/up-city.html' title='Up City!'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113648442053052756</id><published>2006-01-05T10:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T10:07:00.543-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Up or Down?</title><content type='html'>Here’s something that’s bugged me for a long time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we (we being men) have to put the seat down when we’re done peeing? Why don’t women have to put the seat up when they’re done? Huh? I’ve never gotten a satisfactory answer to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The closest I’ve ever come to getting a good answer to this age-old question is "Well, if we have to go really badly and sit down without looking, and the seat is up, we’ll fall in or hurt ourselves!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, where were the women who sat down without looking back when I was playing with a whoopie cushion? In fact, show me those women NOW and I’ll go out and buy a whoopie cushion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, if you’re that stupid that you sit down without looking, I think you deserve to fall into the toilet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113648442053052756?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113648442053052756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113648442053052756' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113648442053052756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113648442053052756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2006/01/up-or-down.html' title='Up or Down?'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113587162278989678</id><published>2005-12-29T07:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T07:53:42.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning Arena Rock Thoughts, 12/29/2005</title><content type='html'>1) I wonder if Vixen’s roadies would scan the crowd looking for hot guys and then give them backstage passes so that Vixen’s members could have their way with those guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized this morning that I definitely thought that some of Vixen’s songs were sung by Heart. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Despite my extreme, shall we say, distaste, for all things German, I have to say that The Scorpions rock! I've never heard a Scorpions song I didn't like (that MAY be because most of them sound the same, but hey, when you find something that works, stick with it), and even their cheesy ode to democracy and the falling of the Berlin Wall, "Winds of Change" still holds up as a legitimate rock ballad. And anyone who tells the listener to  "hear what my guitar has to say" is alright with me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113587162278989678?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113587162278989678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113587162278989678' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113587162278989678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113587162278989678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2005/12/morning-arena-rock-thoughts-12292005.html' title='Morning Arena Rock Thoughts, 12/29/2005'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113578130437165683</id><published>2005-12-28T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T13:56:07.676-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning Arena Rock Thoughts</title><content type='html'>My Time Warner digital cable has something like 20-30 Music Choice channels, that each play a different genre of music non-stop (not videos, just songs). The best one, BY FAR, is the Arena Rock channel, that plays 80's metal (essentially hair metal). One of my favorite morning routines is putting on the Arena Rock channel while I get ready for work and rocking out while my son gets an education in good music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a new feature of this blog will be my Arena Rock Thoughts of the Morning (it will probably not be everyday). So, without further adieu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) "Swingin on the front porch, swingin on the lawn. Swingin where we want cuz there ain’t nobody home. Swingin to the left and swingin to the right. Think about baseball and swingin all night."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to Warrant’s Cherry Pie this morning made me think "Why can’t bands today write music with the same kind of subtlety? Where are the thinly veiled sexual references and videos of chicks being hosed down while wedges of pie subtly highlight what the band is singing about? And did we REALLY stop listening to stuff like this because some record industry idiot convinced everyone that we should be listening to Pearl Jam and Nirvana? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kurt Cobain wrote two good songs (actually, I really only think he wrote one good one, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt), but he was promoted as this songwriting genius, which I never thought he was. And then this effin guy goes and kills himself, which was way lame. Most of the hair metal guys almost killed themselves too, but they did it by either doing so many drugs and drinking so much that their hearts literally stopped (see Nikki Sixx) or by getting coked up and driving their expensive sports cars at dangerously high speed and crashing into something (see everyone else). Why can’t they make music like this anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) "If Looks Could Kill" by Heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember sitting in my friend Dean’s room in 5th or 6th grade and listening to this song. Before we would start the song each time, we would dedicate it to a different ugly girl in our class. Boy, we really didn’t get the meaning of the song.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113578130437165683?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113578130437165683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113578130437165683' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113578130437165683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113578130437165683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2005/12/morning-arena-rock-thoughts.html' title='Morning Arena Rock Thoughts'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113569614671389184</id><published>2005-12-27T07:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T07:09:06.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Father-Son Bonding</title><content type='html'>My son and I had a true bonding moment this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a routine that I follow on most mornings, if not every morning. I wake up and shower while my baby-mama feeds our son. Then, she’ll often get back into bed after I get out of the shower to sleep a little bit more while I watch him. Part of the routine involves my morning cup of coffee, which invariably leads to a "pre-trial conference" (if you know what I mean). And since I like to try and sit down at home before I go to work (please see the previous post), I often have to bring my son in to the bathroom with me, because if I don’t he’ll just cry and scream, which would wake up the wife and drive both of us crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, just to back up a moment. My son has a little rocker-chair which we put him in a lot. We also refer to it as his toilet because it seems like every time he poops, he’s in the chair. When we want him to go, we put him in the chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, this morning, I put him on his toilet and brought him in to the bathroom with me, which I don’t really like doing, but he really doesn’t seem to mind it. So, I sit down and just as I start to poop, do did he! We pooped at the same time, and he had this great little smile on his face while he did it! I was like, "Whoa, this is major." It was far cooler than crossing streams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like me, I think my son appreciates a really good poop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113569614671389184?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113569614671389184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113569614671389184' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113569614671389184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113569614671389184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2005/12/father-son-bonding.html' title='Father-Son Bonding'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113466287315127961</id><published>2005-12-15T08:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T10:36:40.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pooping At Work</title><content type='html'>OK, so as I was walking to work the other day, I thought to myself, "You know what? I’m kind of proud of myself because I’ve finally embraced pooping at work."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don’t get me wrong, I try to avoid pooping at work like the plague, but I’ve come to accept that sometimes I just can’t hold it in all day and I feel a lot better when I can go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was, ready to poop. I had to go really bad. So I go into my usual stall (there are two stalls, and one is the handicapped accessible one, which is just way too spacious for a semi-public pooping) and get the toilet-seat all set up with my semi-OCD toilet paper seat covering. Just as I sit down, someone comes in and sits in the next stall!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold my breath for a second because I figure maybe he’s just getting some toilet paper to blow his nose, or maybe he’s just pissing. But no, the miscreant sits down and starts to poop. There was no way I could relax enough to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, that is a far worse breach of bathroom etiquette than standing at a urinal next to someone and looking at them while you’re both peeing. This guy (who shall go nameless, though I suspect I knew who it was) totally violated the rules. At least he finished up before me and left so that way I could poop in peace and relative privacy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113466287315127961?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113466287315127961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113466287315127961' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113466287315127961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113466287315127961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2005/12/pooping-at-work.html' title='Pooping At Work'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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-19516242.post-113354310723572938</id><published>2005-12-02T09:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T09:05:07.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Farpastyle essentials</title><content type='html'>Ok, for all you newbies who might want to kick it Farpastyle, here are a few things you'll need...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Pumas. These are essential. You absoluely CANNOT kick it Farpastyle without a pair of Pumas (preferably blue suede with the white Puma, but in a pinch, black will do as long as it's the old school Pumas, not the fruity new ones).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) See item #1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Scotch. That's the drink of choice, though it can be substituted with your favorite drink as long as it helps you get loud and argue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113354310723572938?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113354310723572938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113354310723572938' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113354310723572938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113354310723572938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2005/12/farpastyle-essentials.html' title='Farpastyle essentials'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19516242.post-113353405012196954</id><published>2005-12-02T06:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T06:34:24.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to my blog!</title><content type='html'>With the exception of three people (all of whom I can name), most of you do not know what "Farpastyle" is, which is probably a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a way of life. The entire purpose of this blog is to entertain and amuse (mostly myself, but if anyone else enjoys it, that's a bonus).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember, if you're gonna do it, do it Farpastyle!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19516242-113353405012196954?l=farpastyle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/feeds/113353405012196954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19516242&amp;postID=113353405012196954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113353405012196954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19516242/posts/default/113353405012196954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://farpastyle.blogspot.com/2005/12/welcome-to-my-blog.html' title='Welcome to my blog!'/><author><name>GoodTimesDad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15915368179269539538</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></feed>
