<?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-6420752</id><updated>2011-04-21T10:46:43.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard As A Rock</title><subtitle type='html'>a young husband discusses his wife and other interesting women</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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>393</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-3556276486863952957</id><published>2008-03-31T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T08:53:17.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;X owns my dreams... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night, we're on date in the middle of the day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next, we're both being cast in a play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on another, i'm handing her a bear as she runs to catch a flight on Korean Air. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She owns my dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-3556276486863952957?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/3556276486863952957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/3556276486863952957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2008_03_01_archive.html#3556276486863952957' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-6269187413213268592</id><published>2008-01-18T08:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T08:25:45.807-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Dreaming of Dating&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last two nights I've been dreaming of dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, very clear, vivid, intense dreams about dating.  No sex.  No making out.  Just fun, friendly, GREAT dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Predictably, one of the dates was with X.  It was incredible.  The intensity of the connection we both felt, the feeling of being there, across from her, next to her in the car.  It was amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I was on a date with a co-worker who actually lives and works in another state.  It was so much fun.  She commented on how solid my arms are (they are much stronger now b/c i've been lifting weights 4-5 times a week).  It felt great to hear her words.  We laughed, we went shopping and to lunch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this "virtual" dating will hold me over for a bit. I definitely noticed that I felt much more confident and stronger than I've ever felt.  Which mirrors my current reality -- where I'm in better physical shape, I'm loving my job, and I feel much more confident meeting new people and in new situations.  I would say I wish I had been "this me" ten years ago -- but I'm just glad I'm discovering "me" now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, onto work.   And then to sleep -- and the next date!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-6269187413213268592?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/6269187413213268592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/6269187413213268592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2008_01_01_archive.html#6269187413213268592' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-8297468976125240169</id><published>2008-01-10T12:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T13:01:18.175-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What Have I Done?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A perfect convergence of events led me to ask the question:  What Have I Done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long drive with time to think, finding my ACT score report in the attic a few days ago, and an incredibly powerful movie in a nearly empty theatre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I ask:  What have I done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I done with the many opportunities I have been given?  Not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I done with the life I've made for myself?  Not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I done with the training I've received in college and at work?  Not enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I done with what was once a very present hunger for justice and thirst for opportunity?  Not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I done with the natural gifts I've been given?  Not enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lived a nice, quiet, middle class life.  Sure, it has had its bumps and detours, but it has been a nice, quiet middle class life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gone to college, earned graduate degrees, and had interesting jobs that pay reasonably well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what have I done with these gifts?  Not enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am capable of more.  I know my potential.  Others have seen it, tapped into it at times, challenged me to be my best.  And at times, I have been.  But not enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the height of this realization, in the middle of that movie, i cried.  I really, really cried.  Like I haven't in a while.  I knew how it would end, I wanted to leave and get to "work."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I stayed, I watched it all.  I cried again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I've taken time to write it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To commit to seeing my best, finding it, and doing it.  All the time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-8297468976125240169?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/8297468976125240169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/8297468976125240169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2008_01_01_archive.html#8297468976125240169' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-4340683385297836042</id><published>2007-12-19T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T09:09:07.854-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;X&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is still around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone the other day told me they thought of her as "strange."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which makes her all the more appealing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she is bright, funny, lovely, and keeps to herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we've both changed jobs this year.  And yet we actually have a closer relationship than we did when we worked at the same place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to kiss her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more than i've wanted to kiss someone in a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she wants to kiss me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know she does&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yet our relationship is mostly professional, kind, friendly -- never coming close to crossing a line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i can't stop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;imagining that embrace, that first touch, the taste of her lips on mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at the same time that I'm moving toward getting my wife "back," my desire for X is not subsiding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps because what we're going through (my wife and I), is a struggle and requires a lot of effort, I can't help but think about ... what if. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and today on the way in to work, i thought of March of 2000.  Of the call from my then-fiance.  Of her cold declaration that we were no longer going to be married. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for three days, we talked.  for 3 days, i thought for sure we were done.  i was a zombie at work, i couldn't sleep.  i wondered why i had moved from a good job in a town i liked to be closer to her so we could be married.  I couldn't believe that 2 weeks into a new life for me, the life I had dreamed of for 3 years was over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all my life, I will never forget this time.  I don't know if my wife will ever know the lasting impact those 3 days had on me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally "made up."  Things were back on track. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and we're approaching 8 years of marriage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you can't look back and say "what if."  I may have moved back to the town i liked and gotten a different job.  I may have had a different path in my new job.  I may never have gotten the job that led me to meeting X. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't change those things. I made a decision after that 3rd day and its impact is still playing out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife is a good partner in a lot of ways.  And every relationship has its struggles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still long for more in some ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the complete picture.  For both a solid partner who shares responsbilities and is good at finances and values intimacy and likes to go to movies and will cook for me once in a while and is attractive and not so negative, etc. etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I offer a lot.  Sure, I have my deficiencies, too.  But since I have a lot to offer, and provide a high level of attention to my partner/our relationship, i expect the same in return. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all.  Give as much as you get. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the day after the 3rd day in March of 2000 ... here's what I've learned:  when someone says they don't want to be with you anymore, that's a pretty strong message.  As hard as it may be, you should probably turn and walk away.  It's likely an indication that the two of you have very different levels of commitment.  And while things might get back to "normal" -- that normalcy will likely be short-lived. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally:  don't compromise.  Take only the best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one last word:  X, I want to kiss you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-4340683385297836042?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/4340683385297836042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/4340683385297836042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.html#4340683385297836042' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-2162710153258924075</id><published>2007-12-05T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T11:26:22.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Breakthrough -- or, why I'm back!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who were reading me regularly, you know I left when I hit a personal breakthrough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized I needed to take decisive action and quit bitching on this blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I did.  Not much changed at first.  Some long talks with my wife, some resistance, and some reversion to the "old way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, the breakthrough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife asked me if I thought she needed counseling.  I said "yes."  I explained that I thought she had some serious issues with negativity, anger, and possibly depresssion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She didn't argue.  And we went on about our business. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the other day, she reveals that she's seen a therapist and is now on some type of anxiety medication. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thrilled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not because my wife needs treatment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because I know she can't be helped until she's ready.  And it seems she's ready.  We've had several talks about it since then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, she apologized to me for being hard to live with and talked about what a great guy I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I stayed married.  Because I had hope that there would be a turnaround.  Because I married a woman I loved.  Because to me, marriage is not something you just "escape."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago, I had resolved to ask her for a divorce.  I had a week away and that's what I planned for when I returned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We never had that conversation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that my life wouldn't be easier if we had.  Maybe we would have divorced and gone our separate ways.  By now, I might be in another happy relationship or just on my own exploring the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I chickened out.  I thought about it too much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in a way, I think that's the point of being married.  It's not supposed to be easy to get out of.  You should think a lot before you leave it behind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time will tell if my wife is serious about treatment and positive change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll support her the best I can during this time -- By taking that first step, she has shown me she is serious about taking care of herself and about preserving our relationship.  I owe her the same seriousness and respect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;either she'll continue down this new path .. or she'll leave it.  That choice will determine a lot about our future together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, I'll take the 2+ years of suffering if by it, I get my wife back for another 20 or 30. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that what married people do for each other?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-2162710153258924075?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/2162710153258924075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/2162710153258924075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2007_12_01_archive.html#2162710153258924075' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-227007171117218982</id><published>2007-11-29T10:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T10:40:33.477-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Stop Obligatory Head&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's a problem sweeping the country.  Well, probably just my house and maybe a few others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the problem:  obligatory blow jobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some wives and girlfriends have begun to feel like they should be more sexually "available" to their partners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but, they don't like sex that much ... or, they don't like their partners that much anymore but won't admit it ... and so, they've resorted to a supposedly quick and harmless means of pleasing their man -- the blow job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;every guy loves receiving oral.  some respond more quickly than others.  some people have even said that guys are just glad you are doing it, so it's almost impossible to do it wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i am here to say:  not all blow jobs are good.  obligatory ones tend to suck the most.  that is, they are designed to help the guy achieve climax as quickly as possible so the girlfriend or wife can back to whatever it is she wants to be doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here's the deal:  if i want to achieve orgasm quickly, i can do that by myself.  i just NEED a release, i can achieve that mechanically on my own (and probably with one hell of a nice fantasy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't really want to, or you're not into it, don't do it.  Stop the spread of obligatory head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now i realize that some women don't like giving head but do it as foreplay or as a means to get what they want (oral from their man).  fine -- if it's part of a "trade", that can work.  but nevertheless, you should be as enthusiastic and passionate about giving head to me as you'd want me to be for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if it's all about getting me off so i'll leave you alone for a few days, don't bother.  I'll find time -- in the shower, when you're out, whenever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and know this:  guys like sex, oral, vaginal, whatever.  but we also appreciate the full experience -- lots of foreplay, giving you oral, passion.  it's about more than getting off if we really care about you.  hell, even if it's a one-night hookup, we want it to be good.  So, if you're not up for it, and don't think you'll be any more excited when you see our naked body or our penis, don't bother. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you think that seeing our penis or starting to suck on  it might turn you on and you'll become passionate, sure, give it a whirl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just don't feel obligated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-227007171117218982?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/227007171117218982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/227007171117218982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2007_11_01_archive.html#227007171117218982' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-2123857810787586326</id><published>2007-10-15T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T09:34:50.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;one more post (for ashley)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't think anyone was reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then ashley stopped by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one more post (maybe a few more)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am alive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things are generally going well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm intrigued -- with what was ashley impressed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is all for now&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-2123857810787586326?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/2123857810787586326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/2123857810787586326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html#2123857810787586326' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-1652097844876231619</id><published>2007-03-21T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T18:07:39.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;marry me ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been a while&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today i have confirmed what i have thought for a long time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to marry her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that fact is becoming more clear the more i know of her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i could not have imagined or created a more perfect partner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;would we have ups and downs? sure.  would there be inevitable struggles? yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not an idiot.  I know the grass is not always greener.  i've spent 2+ years observing and the last few months getting to know much better...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i still know it wouldn't be perfect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i know what makes me happy ... and i know what ruins a happy day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know that 2 people who have a strong friendship can form a strong life partnership&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know that i continue to be in complete awe of her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so now, what to do about the pesky fact that i'm already married... ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-1652097844876231619?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/1652097844876231619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/1652097844876231619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html#1652097844876231619' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116974152312978069</id><published>2007-01-25T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T08:12:03.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Best Years&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as 2006 came to an end, I was thinking that it was an ok year.  some good things developed. a great thing happened.  and there was a lot of soul-searching.  i also realized that i had made one quite large mistake that will impact me for some time to come. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which led me to start thinking about the best years of my still young life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2005 was one of the best years.  I met X.  we did some work together but just her presence made my life more interesting.  My wife and I took an amazing vacation for our 5th anniversary.  I traveled to Seattle and fell in love -- with the city, with being "single" for a week, it was a wonderful time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2003 was a good year.  I escaped a bad job and found a great opportunity that was fulfilling.  My wife followed suit later that year and for a time, we both were happily settling in to new places. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2000 was the year I married.  Overall, a very good year. I will never forget my wedding day no matter what else happens.  My wife was the most beautiful bride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1997 was great... I graduated from college ... it was the year my wife and I began dating.  i remember sun and warmth and working a tough summer job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1993 was up there with 2005 -- one of the BEST years ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so i realize, by and large, our experience is mundane, routine, average.  and then, there are the exceptions.  the amazing experiences or treasured moments.  the years with no tragedies or unpleasant surprises.  then there are years when nothing happens.  you just work and come home and do it all again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm still trying to live like I was 17 ... it was one of the great years.  it's hard not to be more cynical now that i've experienced a number of things i could only imagine then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this year marks 10 years since i graduate from COLLEGE.  wow.  I still remember much of it vividly.  still, only one of those years rates up there with my "all-time" best years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, that's it.  the best years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2007 is holding some promise.  I'll be starting a new job soon.  That's encouraging. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see what else this year holds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116974152312978069?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116974152312978069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116974152312978069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html#116974152312978069' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116584935452216302</id><published>2006-12-11T06:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T07:02:34.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;X Saturday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;grocery store.  Saturday night.  nearly 11 PM. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all i'm thinking about is X. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what is she doing on Saturday at 11?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is she at her friendly, neighborhood wal-mart, too?  is she buying cute things to put in her house -- is she planning her meals for the week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and most importantly... is she thinking about me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;does she spend any of her time thinking about Rock? ... does she say, "hey, that rock guy's kinda cute and i really wish he weren't married...?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and on the way home ... i realize. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't ignore this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;simply can't.  I can't change what I want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what i want is to be walking around a wal-mart store getting lost with a beautiful woman who wants nothing more than to just be with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is that too much?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116584935452216302?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116584935452216302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116584935452216302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html#116584935452216302' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116525479087646116</id><published>2006-12-04T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T09:53:10.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Wii&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The title is for Vortexia.  The post is b/c I was "tagged" by Trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll  not tag anyone else, though -- Wii!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6 weird things about me:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I eat my food in order.  That is, when i have a meal, i eat one item at a time.  For example, if I had  fried chicken, a biscuit, corn, mashed potatoes and pecan pie (a good-sounding meal, no?) ... then I'd eat the corn first, the mashed potatoes next, the chicken, then the biscuit and pecan pie last ... finishing each item in its entirety before going on to the next item -- i would NOT eat some corn and then take  a bite of the biscuit or chicken -- it's all the corn, then the potatoes, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)  I have a nearly photographic memory -- it's pretty sharp, but not perfect ... but i remember things in full detail -- if i drive somewhere one time, i can get back again without the directions -- i know what cars everyone in my office drives, i remember vivid details of events that occurred 10 or more years ago.  If I read something in a book, i can generally repeat it or rewrite it word for word after having read it only one time -- this is why i was/am good at school.  I used to think that everyone remembered things like this ... but they don't.  It's weird -- generally, it's a good thing.  but sometimes it can be painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)  I have never been drunk.  Again, i used to think this was "normal" -- but apparently, i'm the anomaly.  I do drink some ... but I have never been drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I was a virgin when I married (technically speaking, i suppose, since I had engaged in oral sex) -- i'm quite good at it... and vortexia especially wants to fully appreciate my talents (at least that's what she said in that one dream i had... )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) I can spell or pronounce almost any word.  really.  Ok, i'm not a spelling bee champ or anything -- but your tough words from everyday usage -- yeah, i can spell those.  and remember sometimes when you might see a russian or other foreign word, say, if you're reading the Economist, I can pronounce those words no problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Did i just admit to reading the Economist?  that's probably weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, there.  i'm done.  i was tagged and i responded.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116525479087646116?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116525479087646116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116525479087646116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html#116525479087646116' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116464094032170032</id><published>2006-11-27T07:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T07:22:20.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Why I should have married Taja ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  She's hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  She understands marriage is a partnership&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  She wants kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  She wants hot sex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  She would appreciate my romantic side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  She would enjoy my focus on and love of performing oral sex on her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  She would give me a kiss, a hug, and maybe even a blowjob when i came home from work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  She'd probably let me tie her up and torture her with kisses and other sensual delights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  We have discussed a great way to make the Ohio State-Michigan game more interesting -- a LOT more interesting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Did i mention that she's hot, horny, a freak, and smart as a whip? well, that's why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116464094032170032?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116464094032170032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116464094032170032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html#116464094032170032' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116231354036498888</id><published>2006-10-31T08:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T08:52:38.150-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Exactly ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Generally you're friends but she is not the love of your life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's exactly it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116231354036498888?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116231354036498888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116231354036498888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#116231354036498888' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116109503432991032</id><published>2006-10-17T07:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T07:23:54.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;17&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the "perfect" day for me happened in March of 1993.  I was 17.  I've written about it before, so I won't go into too much detail.  there have been other "perfect" days.  not too many.  but that's the day i go back to when i think of innocence, of complete happiness, of not thinking about anything else in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, as part of my evolution of thought and being ... i'm going to start making decisions the way that 17-year-old would have.  trust me, that kid knew what was going on ... he was wise and his vision was clear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never want to stop seeing the world the way i did when i was 17.  all the wonder and excitement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you let yourself get clouded by too many influences, you lose the clarity of vision ... and then, you just lose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as you experience more, more things become "acceptable."  you make decisions you would never have thought of at 17. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have no illusions about going back... about doing it all over.  I know I can only go forward.  But I'm going forward with the experience of 31 years and the renewed heart and mind of 17. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm smiling as i write this.  that perfect day warms me.  i can still feel it.  and I'm reclaiming ME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116109503432991032?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116109503432991032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116109503432991032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#116109503432991032' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-116040891428564618</id><published>2006-10-09T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T08:48:34.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Return to Innocence&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, just like the Enigma song -- which is now stuck in my head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Return to Innocence.  That's my new mission.  Some say it's impossible -- that once you've crossed the line, tasted the fruit, you can't go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I had an epiphany in the car this weekend.  After a tense moment with my wife, I went for a drive.  First angry, I initially calmed down and enjoyed the cool fall air.  And that's when it happened (no, enigma's song did not come on the radio).  But i knew what i had to do.  It made perfect sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Return to Innocence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Become the me that I have been in the past .. become the me that i can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shed the distractions and just be me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can return.  No, not like those weird "virgin-again" groups suggest.  But you can recapture your spirit.  Your ability to feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm going back to go forward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Return to innocence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-116040891428564618?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116040891428564618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/116040891428564618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#116040891428564618' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115998698663813227</id><published>2006-10-04T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T11:36:26.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Information that would have been useful...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometime 6 years ago ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;such as my wife's recent remark..."i'm not sure i should have gotten married."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she tells me she doesn't feel good about the type of wife she's been and that she thinks maybe she should have not married me b/c i'm a good guy who deserves a great wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but wait.  she did try to tell me 3 months before our wedding that she didn't want to get married ... a huge fight ensued.  we made up. and resolved to stay on course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at that time, i couldn't imagine being with anyone else. ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;since that time, we're still friends.  we live together and have built a solid financial partnership. we still know each other better than anyone else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but we have a relationship at home that's more like having an opposite sex roommate who you very occasionally have sex with instead of a marriage partnership. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she's clearly frustrated and depressed.  that's draining. for both of us.  I am no longer patient.  Nor do i go "over the top" for special occasions... her birthday this year was dinner and a book.  and flowers.  ok, so maybe all of that was nice.  just not the norm for what i typically plan and arrange around special days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i expect the next conversation may be something like... "hey, rock, i think maybe we made a mistake..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, when she made this revelation ... i told her i wish she had told me 6 years ago.  She admitted we had struggled some lately.  but she loves me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe if spend more time focusing on some of the good things, more good things will happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;every relationship has it good and bad points ... the question is -- can i live with and find some happiness in -- this relationship and its bad points? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so maybe that's it for this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115998698663813227?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115998698663813227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115998698663813227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html#115998698663813227' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115920445495106796</id><published>2006-09-25T09:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T10:14:15.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Chapel...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the heart of a busy downtown there is a quiet place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;green grass, mature trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a campus that takes up about 2 blocks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;old stone forms a chapel and retreat center&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;an escape from hectic work life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;walk down the sidewalk another block and you're back in it... the city, the people, the rush&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but here, time stands still&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;archways frame pictures&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;trees bend in the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have been inside when no one's there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have seen you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;walking down the aisle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have watched as photos were made on pathways lit by the late summer sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart has jumped as i stood in the front and watched as you emerged from behind the entranceway... watched you in delicate white, hair pinned up and back... lace veil covering deep brown eyes and bright smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have heard the sounds of the wedding march as you carefully placed one foot in front of the other, slowly approaching like a butterfly on a lazy Sunday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have seen 200 people looking at me as i watch you with all of my being&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have held your hand in mine and placed a thin platinum band on your ring finger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i discovered this place -- i always knew it was there ... but i discovered this place and all it means to me is you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can see this vision clearly -- it is an experience i know i will have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;an historic chapel -- a symbol of strength and silence and peace in a bustling city&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a place of hope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and a place you and i will share&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115920445495106796?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115920445495106796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115920445495106796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html#115920445495106796' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115885278452825731</id><published>2006-09-21T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T08:33:04.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;oh...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and did i mention there is an absolutely lovely girl who if i told her i was separated tomorrow, would, i'm quite confident, be on a date with me on saturday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did i mention that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somebody kick my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115885278452825731?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115885278452825731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115885278452825731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html#115885278452825731' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115885266633637288</id><published>2006-09-21T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T08:31:06.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;someone please ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kick my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;make me start over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think this blog has served its purpose -- which doesn't mean i'll stop ... but it means i've learned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i started out a couple years ago to tell a story about my life ... and about some issues in my marriage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and through a couple of years of writing and thinking and getting comments and emails from readers, i've discovered something that maybe a few therapy sessions would have helped with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's all about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no, not the whole world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my life.  and "issues"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;example... issues in my marriage -- can i change my wife? no! -- i can change the way i deal with her, i can change my attitude toward her, i can change the fact that she's even my wife.  but i can't make her do the things that i think would make me happy.  i can explain to her the problems i'm having and if she wants to change, great... and if not, i can either accept things as they are or make a change for ME. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have realized, as i have blogged about before, that i have often chosen the "safe" path and gotten "good" results.  I went to a decent state school instead of the further away and more challenging and expensive private one ... i decided to take a job and forego law school so i could be closer to my girlfriend (now wife) and home.  plus, i had some college loan debt and wanted to pay it off.  i decided to keep working and get a Ph.D. at night at the local state school instead of finding a way to work nights and take classes at the prestigious private school in town (where i was also accepted).   and to be honest, things are fine. i have a decent house in a nice area, a job i enjoy, etc.  a wife who despite other issues is a strong financial partner (and that's VERY important to me). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i can't stand it.  i'm angry.  i've made choices that sell my abilities short.  and i'm the one to blame.  my wife didn't make me give up law school or move to this town or go to school at night.  i made those choices.  I could have made other choices and told her to deal with them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i came back from a trip to Seattle last year energized and excited about me and my life -- and having had some time alone to examine things, i thought it was the right time to talk about ending the relationship. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but a funny thing happened.  my wife acted excited to see me.  we had a nice dinner.  she yes SHE initiated sex after i had already gone to bed... and so, the conversation didn't happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i made that choice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;since that time, we've talked more explicitly.  there have been some changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i'm still right here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after my wife and i talked about a very interesting job opportunity for me that's far from where we live, i had my 3rd phone interview.  i told her it went great.  she said "it's not up for discussion... there's no way."  the next day, i learned i am a finalist.  i told the guy i needed some time to think about flying out there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's not over yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i've learned a lot about me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that it's all about me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that i'm angry .... with myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm a finalist for an outstanding job with great pay in a city i think would be a fascinating place to live&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which means if i follow my normal course, next year i'll be sitting here at this ok job with some interesting side work going on and blah blah blah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;somebody please kick my ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hard&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115885266633637288?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115885266633637288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115885266633637288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html#115885266633637288' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115809281302164314</id><published>2006-09-12T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T13:26:53.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;oh ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to catch a glimpse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just an image&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a glance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just to see you for a moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fleeting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;passing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to catch your eye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a wisp of your scent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to know we shared a space&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perhaps an incidental touch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to catch a glimpse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my heart will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;soar&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115809281302164314?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115809281302164314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115809281302164314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html#115809281302164314' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115748754691427513</id><published>2006-09-05T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T13:19:07.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Broke into the old apartment... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, i didn't really break in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but, i did drive by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm doing some consulting work in the town where i went to college.  and on this rainy day recently i'm up there and after my meeting, i decide to drive around&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i think it might be a good idea to drive by the old apartment -- the one i had for one semester (spring) my junior year.  the one in an old house in town that had been divided up into several units -- mine was on the third floor and had a beautiful bay window in the bedroom with roof access.  the rooms were nice-sized and i liked it overall -- the girl below me was engaged but about 2 weeks into the semester, she started sleeping with a different guy ... i know all this b/c i heard her talking about it with a friend through the vents (and no, i wasn't trying to listen, but it was an old house)... and of course, i always knew when the guy was over ... she would scream, moan, pant, etc... as they had sex directly below me ... her bed must have been right under mine because i could hear her voice clear as day through the vent next to my bed... it was as if i was there... (and yeah, it was sometimes annoying, but mostly a huge turn-on)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i used to drink mt. dew there ... the kind with the red and green writing on white background before they changed their can design.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, i drive into the alley that leads to the parking lot, turn into the next alley, and stop... looking up to the third floor -- remembering walking in at night after long days of class and other activities.  i drove up the path i used to walk to campus -- it was 2 blocks from campus and the walk was all uphill. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i started to get sad .. remembering my time there and how that was a really odd and not great time for me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i think -- but here i am.  10 years later.  10 years ago, at 21, i had no idea what i would be doing at 31.  31 seemed far away. i knew the type of job i wanted to have, but didn't really know how to get there.  i couldn't imagine anything more than a semester or so away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 years later, i have a great job in the field i dreamed of working in ... i have a car (which i didn't then) -- i don't EVER have to worry about how i'm going to pay for next week's meals or if there is money in the checking account to order a pizza or even cover the rent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's hard to imagine that i ever was there.  sometimes, even here, i'm talked about going back to the college days.  and it all seems fun.  but the reality is, i wouldn't really go back. not there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i do think it's important to go back .. to visit that place... and to remember where i was and where i am now. -- to remember that without a lot of hard work and sacrifice, i might still be there.  and to know that with hard work, comes reward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't ever want to be the kind of person who forgets where they came from ... no matter what i achieve, i want to be humble.  because i know that somewhere ... maybe in my college town, there's a 20 year old who has no idea what's going to happen the next week or how they will pay the rent in 2 weeks. someone whose entertainment consists of sitting on the roof outside their bedroom window, smoking a cigarette and feeding the pigeons... (or listening to the girl below him have multiple orgasms as a break from the monotony of studying) ... someone who works hard and has a vision ... but is not sure how to get there.  someone in a down place who maybe has made a bad decision that has hurt him.  someone who delights in quiet nights wrapped in the warmth of the library. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i know that 10 years ago, not too long, really .. i was that person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115748754691427513?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115748754691427513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115748754691427513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html#115748754691427513' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115703974396184065</id><published>2006-08-31T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T08:55:43.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Vonage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;does anyone out there have Vonage or another VOIP provider?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is it really as easy and affordable as it seems?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115703974396184065?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115703974396184065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115703974396184065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115703974396184065' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115679095274313119</id><published>2006-08-28T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T11:49:12.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;just stay quiet&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it may all be over soon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;instead of raising issues or making issues, i just stay quiet now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm tired of the effort&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what, you want to continue talking about this or that so-called "issue" or "reason" why our life is not adequate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's fine ... i'll just here in silence until you stop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i won't respond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and it's nice that you "don't remember" the fight we had when you told me you didn't want to get married.  how could you forget taking off your engagement ring and telling me you were ready to  move on unless i agreed to this one silly condition... how could you forget not being willing to discuss the issue face-to-face b/c I "didn't know how to argue..."?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i won't go into all the details -- but the issue that started this whole process of us not being married... and led to a week where our future was uncertain just 6 short years ago finally came to the surface.  I agreed to what she was saying b/c i couldn't imagine that i had moved from a place i loved and a job i enjoyed to a new town .. to be with the woman i KNEW i'd spend the rest of my life with -- only to have her end it all... and leave me stuck there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i couldn't imagine nights without her... and i couldn't imagine giving up the years we'd had because of something i thought would never really come back up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, 6 years later, it came back up - and then i was reminded of all the pain of that week... and she said, "really, we had that discussion... i don't remember that at all..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how could you not remember asking me NOT to be a part of your life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe i'm being unreasonable... but i think this is emblematic of the larger issues in our marriage... and that she just is not really focused on my feelings...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, i sit there, calmly now, and listen.  i don't respond, don't argue... i just listen ... and then go on doing what i'm doing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115679095274313119?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115679095274313119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115679095274313119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115679095274313119' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115652039965645567</id><published>2006-08-25T08:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T08:43:42.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;New Man&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;word is, Jessica Simpson has a "new Man" -- but, he's a secret man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, it's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, how could she resist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and nick -- sorry about your little problem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but jess is happy now ... very, very happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(and not nearly as dumb as everone thinks...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, well, we'll see... just be looking for my picture in the Enquirer soon ... and my forthcoming album on K-Fed's new label, Federation Records... (i think i'm mixing my blonde, silly pop stars)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, ain't no other man...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115652039965645567?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115652039965645567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115652039965645567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115652039965645567' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115618237158029167</id><published>2006-08-21T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-21T10:46:11.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;nip/tuck chocolate&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, i've noticed that the new season of nip/tuck and the new LG Chocolate phone/mp3 player share the same theme song...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what does this mean? -- well, for one, it means that catchy, sexy, techno-type tune is stuck in my head all the damn time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but does it have implications for the show? will Dr. Troy be listening to his mp3 player during surgeries or sex romps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will users of the "chocolate" device get to see "uncut" special scenes from nip/tuck? Can you call directly to Kimber Henry and get her to do an onsite demonstration of her "skills?"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what about Sean's wife... yeah, whatever her name... she's still pretty hot and her sexiness is underplayed... will she be sexing it up this season... while Sean and Christian both try to reach her on their LG phones?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is this all just a big, happy coincidence?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115618237158029167?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115618237158029167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115618237158029167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115618237158029167' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115583915292903621</id><published>2006-08-17T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T11:25:53.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Water, water everywhere...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, since Monday, i've consumed no liquids except water until last night, when i had a Mt. Dew at dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and let me tell you 1) i feel wonderful -- it's like water is gasoline for my body ... and i feel energetic and amazing 2) i've lost 2 pounds -- now, just 7.5 lbs to go until i reach my goal weight (yes, i was at my goal weight last year at this time when i traveled to seattle -- then, after the Holidays, i was up, and for whatever reason, this summer, back up again) -- i attribute some of the gain to new muscle developed while adding more weight to my lifting routine -- But, i'm still not in the shape i want to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, 3) the loss of 2 pounds in 3 days and the amazing feeling i have makes it easy so far to say "no" to cokes and other bad for me beverages -- of course, that doesn't mean on fridays i won't have a diet coke with my mcdonalds biscuit -- but, i won't be going back to mcds until i hit the goal weight anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to me, it's amazing how such a small change can make such a huge difference.  and i know i'll look better 7.5 lbs lighter -- and i'll be elated when i look down at the scale and see the number i'm aiming for --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but this year, there will be NO winter weight gain ... as i've said before, 2006 is a year of change for me, and i'm changing my nonchalant attitude about personal fitness and moving it up so my lifestyle is more about healthy choices in meals and being active -- i mean, there's just no comparison in terms of how i feel -- and it's well worth the sacrifice to get the results i want...&lt;br /&gt;(oh, and not that my wife would notice, but there are OTHER benefits as well....!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115583915292903621?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115583915292903621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115583915292903621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115583915292903621' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115567599664801766</id><published>2006-08-15T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T14:06:36.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Getting it right at McDonalds&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the allure of mcdonalds is simple -- no matter where you go, you know what you'll get at mcdonalds... food that is reasonably edible and that tastes just the same as it does at any other mcdonalds... served in very quick time in a clean environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or so i thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;probably once a week, usually on a friday, i have breakfast at mcdonalds... i take my morning a little slower, probably show up 5-10 minutes late to work b/c no one really cares... just a nice way to start my friday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i always go to the same mcdonalds and get the same thing -- in fact, the guy who works the register just looks at me, punches in my order, and tells me the cost and i don't even have to talk ... i mean, perfect.  and the biscuits are always good ... always the same... always a good start to my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the other day, my car needed air in one tire.  so, i take a different route to work to stop at the gas station with the free air machine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then happen upon a mcdonalds over there.  i go on, i actually have to place an order b/c they don't know me... and 1) the clerk gets the order wrong and 2) the biscuits are made differently.. i don't know if this mcdonald's gets a different pre-mix or uses butter differently or what.. but it just wasn't the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ray kroc wouldn't stand for that... either my mcdonalds is doing it differently than everyone else OR, the one across town is... or, i suppose it's possible that mcd's is now making biscuits according to its customer base... and people 2 miles down the road like their biscuits a little saltier... or maybe they were just having an off day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, this blog had a 500+ calorie breakfast and some diet coke and was ok.. but this week, i'll be back at MY mcdonalds...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115567599664801766?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115567599664801766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115567599664801766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115567599664801766' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115532644433151038</id><published>2006-08-11T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T13:03:29.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Wedding Day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On your wedding day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stairs and cheers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White lace and flowers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hair pulled back, veil in the wind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On your wedding day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warm summer sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bright green leaves&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tiny white sandals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amazing smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On your wedding day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lush blonde hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hand locked in his&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heart beating wild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On your wedding day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you are not mine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115532644433151038?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115532644433151038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115532644433151038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115532644433151038' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115513938805425830</id><published>2006-08-09T09:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T09:03:08.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;OK&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i really am living up to this blog's name right now -- i mean, really very much so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the closest one of you to me needs to help ... or, X can just come downstairs and i'll shut the office door...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;damn&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115513938805425830?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115513938805425830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115513938805425830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115513938805425830' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115496397091652200</id><published>2006-08-07T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T08:19:30.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;it's been ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a week since i've written&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guess i got busy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(no, not that kind of busy -- trick still hasn't dropped by...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, it's another monday .. and i'm feeling better -- by better, i mean well-rested and ready to engage work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and better... just feeling good so far this morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess that's all for now -- just a post to get back into posting&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115496397091652200?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115496397091652200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115496397091652200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_08_01_archive.html#115496397091652200' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115437343865710782</id><published>2006-07-31T12:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T12:17:18.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;morning drive &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, here's what i did on the way to work today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i practiced introducing my wife to people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;only, it wasn't my wife now i was introducing... it was X&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i would say, "hi, i'm Rock, this is my wife, X...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why did i do that? -- i'm not sure -- but i noticed my heart jumped when i said her name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i finally got it down pretty good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i know i can say with confidence that "i'm Rock, and this is my wife, X..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but when will that do me any good?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115437343865710782?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115437343865710782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115437343865710782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115437343865710782' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115385591916253858</id><published>2006-07-25T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:31:59.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Mazzie Star&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, i have to write this because if i don't, i will have to pick up my computer and throw it against the wall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one day, i'm going to snap... and something weird is going to happen -- i just hope i'm inside a building and i'm only nominally hurt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, back to the point -- see, i feel better already, well, no i don't -- but at least my mind is kind of distracted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, so i'm looking at the website of my old college - where i think it might be nice to work one day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and all of a sudden that Mazzie Star song comes into my head... you know, that ONE song that was kind of a college anthem for wayward girls or something... "fade into you... strange you never knew..." ... the rhythm is so enchanting, so ... well, so 90s college&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so i had to write this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why did i go to that website?... why is mazzie taunting me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, here's what i've come up with ... there are 2 paths my life could have (and probably should have) taken upon completion of college -- that mazzie star time was exciting and daunting and full of possibility.  and i went from one path to the other - thinking that either would be wonderful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so now, where am i? well, those two paths run parallel -- it seems unlikely to find a life that combines both&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i.. i'm in the rut in the middle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sure, there are satisfying things about my life.  but in order to get onto one of those 2 paths, i'm going to have to jump out of this hole and then choose -- walk in one direction or the other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;believe me, for me, those 2 paths are where i belong -- i believe that on either one, i would be fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but right now, i am here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mazzie star no longer plays in a small, cinder-block room painted gray and sparsely decorated. &lt;br /&gt;there are no more "wasted" days of wandering the campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't know which path was the one then -- and i figured the doors would open and i'd be directed... but now, i'm here -- not in either place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where the hell was i these last 11 years?  when will i make a jump?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;believe me, the time is coming soon --- very soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;damn you, mazzie star&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115385591916253858?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115385591916253858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115385591916253858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115385591916253858' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115385485164716383</id><published>2006-07-25T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:14:11.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;If only...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James Blunt would stop recording songs that get played on the radio, i might not cry at all on the way to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115385485164716383?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115385485164716383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115385485164716383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115385485164716383' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115377458855302308</id><published>2006-07-24T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T13:56:28.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;guess what i heard?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i heard that while trick was away on her trip, she came to the realization that she and rock were meant to be ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and when she returns, she'll be making a little trip to visit the one man who can truly rock her world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's what i heard, anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hope everyone is having a not so bad monday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm a little fuzzy today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115377458855302308?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115377458855302308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115377458855302308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115377458855302308' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115340688909387081</id><published>2006-07-20T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T07:48:09.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;holy fucking shit&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, i don't really need the update on what you did last night when you are showing up to work at 10 AM and i've been here for over 2 hours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm typing... which means i'm working (or maybe blogging) -- but i definitely don't have time to listen to your rants about how you need a fucking banana and other such madness ... and since you're 2 hours late, why don't you sit down and get some damn work done?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean... really&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115340688909387081?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115340688909387081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115340688909387081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115340688909387081' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115340389912862875</id><published>2006-07-20T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T06:58:19.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I saw that, Old Dude&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so i know you're approaching 80 and all, so you've probably earned.  But i just want you to know that this blog witnessed you stealing diet coke from McDonald's.  You clearly got the free, clear water cup and then right before you left, you filled it up with diet coke, looked around, and chugged it.  Then, you did it again -- i guess because none of the teenage employees said anything to you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what were they going to say, "I'm sorry sir, you got a water cup -- stop stealing the coke..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i saw you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115340389912862875?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115340389912862875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115340389912862875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115340389912862875' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115316270364231283</id><published>2006-07-17T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T11:58:24.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Hot&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, it's hot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so hot that i can't even think about the sex i'm not getting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that's hot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually, there's something about heat that makes me want to have sex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all hot and sweaty and out of breath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is all for today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X, if you are around... i'll find you in the storage closet on the 2nd level of the back stairs&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115316270364231283?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115316270364231283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115316270364231283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115316270364231283' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115289217728267467</id><published>2006-07-14T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T08:49:37.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;sandals&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just because you have feet and companies make sandals does NOT mean you should wear sandals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think that says it all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115289217728267467?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115289217728267467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115289217728267467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115289217728267467' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115274142068425007</id><published>2006-07-12T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T14:57:00.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;M&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you read my earlier posts, you will remember &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;is gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, that's what i mean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this lovely, bright, vibrant, multi-talented woman -- delicate, refined, only 27 -- a true renaissance woman who was an athlete, a pianist, a reader and a historian is gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she passed away just a few weeks ago -- i found out only a few minutes ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm still crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;her mother searched for ways to contact her friends... and could only just now find my email address&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;M&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;she was the type of friend who made me smile when i saw her name in my email inbox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;when i heard the U2 song "the ground beneath her feet" i thought of M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;it was an accident, a tragic one, that took this vibrant life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i last saw her some 5 years ago -- i will never see her face again -- i will never hear her voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will never open my email to find her latest thoughts on great literature and classical music.  or just on what it's like to be a single girl in the city&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I will miss you -- and I will never forget you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115274142068425007?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115274142068425007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115274142068425007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115274142068425007' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115256210120292806</id><published>2006-07-10T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T13:08:21.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;so... what would you get me?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet another anniversary passed this weekend and it was another anniversary with no gift from my wife to me... i arranged dinner, a movie, and a small, very inexpensive gift...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't even get a card... (my wife later said she felt bad... i said, "no you didn't.. this is the 3rd of 6 Anniversaries where i have gotten NOTHING from you... ) -- we had an ok night, but my wife commented that i was "quiet"... well, yeah, b/c i was expecting that after our talk recently, she'd at least make some effort...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, today's question is:  what anniversary gift would YOU get rock?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115256210120292806?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115256210120292806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115256210120292806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115256210120292806' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115211820885046191</id><published>2006-07-05T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T09:50:08.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I suppose&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should type something here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been a few days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a few nice, relaxing days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but what shall i write?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;other than my transparent need for competent female companionship, what should i write?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;has this blog run its course?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or is there more lurking in these deep veins?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115211820885046191?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115211820885046191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115211820885046191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html#115211820885046191' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115160994821024716</id><published>2006-06-29T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T12:39:08.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Grammar Asshole&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't understand how people can be such grammar idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, really.  how is this possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your instead of you're?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, here's my favorite -- people adding an apostrophe to make a word PLURAL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's fucking wrong, people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you want to say more than one FRY it's fries, not FRY's.  the word FRY'S means that someTHING belongs to FRY -- like:  "that pen over there belongs to FRY, it's fry's!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;are people not at least learning basic punctuation at school?  or do they not even fucking care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, CART's for $1.00 -- seriously, i read that sign not long ago.  who is cart? what of hers are you selling for a dollar? i asked the people behind the desk - they were perplexed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe i've been on this rant before?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't fucking care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to see murphy and let her kick my ass with the shoestring from her running shoes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115160994821024716?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115160994821024716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115160994821024716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115160994821024716' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115143586836244868</id><published>2006-06-27T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T12:17:48.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;lick&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one lick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you name the place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anywhere ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i just want one lick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115143586836244868?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115143586836244868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115143586836244868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115143586836244868' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115135317742733462</id><published>2006-06-26T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T13:19:37.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;why?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;someone asked me the other day, in response to an offhand comment i made about you, what exactly it is there is to like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's start with your brilliance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your commitment to hard work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your ability to arrive flawless, work a 12-hour day, and leave exhausted, certainly, but flawless, nevertheless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your red-blonde hair, it's curls bouncing with your steps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;those deep brown eyes that i could get lost in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the smile... and the way it lights up my eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i could talk about your height -- you're the perfect size for me... your narrow waist and great legs...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or the 4 inch heels you wear expertly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you perfectly match&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you are a true professional even when you are being devious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you caught my eye like NO ONE ever has&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you laugh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you wear your glasses --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what do i like about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way i see no one else when you walk in the room...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way i think of you everytime i hear that james blunt song...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you say you want... diamonds and a ring of gold...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All i want ... is YOU&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115135317742733462?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115135317742733462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115135317742733462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115135317742733462' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115107377675431996</id><published>2006-06-23T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T07:42:56.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Finally&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a weekend awaits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and let me mention...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my wife and i had "the talk"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the one we've been needing to have for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the one we've started, talked around, hinted at&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the one where i said, "yes, i'm serious... if this doesn't change, i'm leaving..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i put it out there in clear, explicit language.  there was no yelling ... and no crying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just a serious talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so we both know where we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it feels so much better to have that out there and know that it is clearly understood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we'll see what happens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i made a move&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a push&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115107377675431996?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115107377675431996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115107377675431996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115107377675431996' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115092119853234708</id><published>2006-06-21T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T13:19:58.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;let's get serious...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, seriously physical...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how do you like your sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;does the trickster take it hard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do you like it nasty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do you take it in the rear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;road head, anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's talk about it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115092119853234708?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115092119853234708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115092119853234708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115092119853234708' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115074893692736875</id><published>2006-06-19T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T13:28:56.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;yeah&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that girl over there wants to fuck me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the tall, skinny girl with the reddish hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she wants it bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she's thin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kinda cute in the face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perfect ass and great legs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;probably an "A" cup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and she wants to fuck me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, she did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for about 4 years anyway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from the time she was 17 until she was 21&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then again i saw her... at 25 and i could tell... if she could have, she would have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i didn't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so there she is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;again... another few years have passed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that tall, skinny, no longer virginal girl wants to fuck me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115074893692736875?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115074893692736875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115074893692736875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115074893692736875' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115047863941521942</id><published>2006-06-16T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T10:23:59.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;what ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the hell am i doing today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;working my tired ass off, that's what...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, actually, all that work came to a screeching halt just a moment ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and so, here i am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;writing some drivel in an online journal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and imagining a weekend with trick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cut off jean shorts and a white tank top -- that's what you're wearing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and we'll take it from there...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115047863941521942?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115047863941521942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115047863941521942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115047863941521942' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-115030414015321467</id><published>2006-06-14T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T09:55:40.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;so...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've got to post more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's therapeutic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've thought about stopping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i can't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need some good outlet -- someplace to put my thoughts and get a little feedback from totally anonymous people who don't really know me about what's going on in my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, that makes perfect sense&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;meet people you never see and let them give you there words of wisdom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually, it does make some sense&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b/c these "blog people" don't know you from a past relationship or school or something.  so, they can just tell you what they think based on their life experiences and hopefully, you can learn from it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like i'm learning all sorts of stuff about sex from trick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(well, not really, but she should post a tutorial for guys on how to land a hottie like the trickster... and how to keep her satisfied!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm learning about the power of laughter from murphy -- her perspective is truly unique and one i'm sure i'd enjoy in person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and from dearest v... DESIRE...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and anyone else who drops by... well, you take what you find and use it best you can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, thanks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;off to eat a south beach diet pizza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and water&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-115030414015321467?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115030414015321467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/115030414015321467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#115030414015321467' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114979387681505038</id><published>2006-06-08T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T12:11:16.830-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;delicious lunch&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with W.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you remember, this blog introduced her sometime ago as a former client/colleague who would often take me to lunch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cute, same age as me, professional, similar work situation.  still single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, she suggested lunch a while back as we hadn't seen each other in almost 4 years.  i accepted and today was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;delicious-- and that just describes the way she looked in an adorable black dress and smart sandals.  i believe she has quit smoking.  a big plus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this time, there was no work or pretense of work to discuss -- just a chance to relax and chat... lunch took some time ... and it was nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and W will provide at least a temporary mental break from X -- yes, i've given her a name -- that mysterious girl who i write about from time to time in half-attempts at poetry to express a deep desire (or, i'm really, really horny).  anyway, i'm calling her X. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and W is today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is delicious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and frankly, was just plain nice to talk with over a 2 hour+ lunch....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114979387681505038?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114979387681505038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114979387681505038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#114979387681505038' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114960343219046056</id><published>2006-06-06T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T07:17:12.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Hairy-chested survey .... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A memory of a conversation i had a while back prompted me to ask these questions: (for the ladies, please)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) would you say most guys you have been with/dated/etc have been hairy or smooth-chested?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) what is your preference? -- do you like a guy with a completely smooth chest, somewhat hairy, or what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, guys -- you can weigh-in i suppose RE: your own personal hairy-ness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114960343219046056?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114960343219046056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114960343219046056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#114960343219046056' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114926758606654983</id><published>2006-06-02T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T09:59:46.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;alright&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm posting again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it hasn't even been a full week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel better this week&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think some time to reflect helped&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is still some personal anguish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and disappointment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i feel better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if only i had gotten out and run away with murphy when i had the chance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there's still time, though&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114926758606654983?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114926758606654983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114926758606654983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_06_01_archive.html#114926758606654983' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114875866369790324</id><published>2006-05-27T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T12:37:43.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Paralysis by Analysis ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you choose not to choose you still have made a choice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so say the lyrics of a song by a band i'm not terribly fond of&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;indecision can be a decision&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and sometimes -- it takes  a long, long time for one to know the true impact of a choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just yesterday i learned that something i strongly suspected to be true is indeed very true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that confirmed that a decision i made (or, the lack of a strong, clear decision) was really, really bad.  i fucked up.  terribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;driving home was hard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i haven't felt this much anger in some time.  mostly, it's my fault.  i could have acted and acted decisively, and i did not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, in about 10 months, i fully felt the impact of the decision i made to wait just a little longer to make a decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know how much more often i will blog.  i started in 2004 -- and it has been a good outlet -- but perhaps instead of sending my messages out into the world of cyberspace, i should have been sending them more directly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks to all of you who have read, commented, emailed, shared, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will likely be back sporadically. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i may soon seek professional help.  a session or 3 should help get things out in the open -- in focus for me.  and then we'll see what happens next. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i fear it is too late now for something other than compromised happiness to be my ultimate plight -- but no worry -- with a few exceptions, that is all i have known&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the future can be brighter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is definitely going to be a vodka and sprite weekend&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114875866369790324?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114875866369790324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114875866369790324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114875866369790324' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114849338563722789</id><published>2006-05-24T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T10:56:25.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;black..&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and pink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;skirt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i marvel at you every day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can do nothing more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not right now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it would work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it wouldn't be perfect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that's all i want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;perfect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i can't have you perfect, i can't have you at all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;black and pink&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114849338563722789?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114849338563722789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114849338563722789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114849338563722789' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114841192493841017</id><published>2006-05-23T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T12:18:44.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;2 weeks and 2 days&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it has been since i last saw you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can barely contain myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your hair up -- i've never seen you wear it that way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your neck exposed, open, ready for a touch, a faint kiss&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your white shirt slightly open, just enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just lovely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i needed this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to see you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when you ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i will say yes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114841192493841017?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114841192493841017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114841192493841017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114841192493841017' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114830636874724581</id><published>2006-05-22T06:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-22T06:59:28.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;crazy rock&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the last two weeks have been crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some of you know why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i'm back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and here i am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i think i could really, really use some time with vortexia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114830636874724581?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114830636874724581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114830636874724581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114830636874724581' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114684751763649851</id><published>2006-05-05T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T09:45:17.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Furniture financing ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, i heard a commercial yesterday that had me thinking about silly things people do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like financing furniture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the whole commercial went on and on about different plans for financing furniture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which made me think of economics in larger terms, too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but first, and i think i've said this before, with the exception of a mortgage on the house, i'm debt free. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i drove a car i had in college until about 3 months ago. -- it was 11 years old when i got rid of it -- and the car i drive now is 7 years old.  we bought a 3 year old car in it's place to become our primary driving car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all in cash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we "financed" furniture one time -- because we were tired of having a virtually empty room in our house -- and one week later, i received a bonus at work -- i took the check, cashed it, and walked into the furniture store to pay off the furniture.  the guy told me that had never happened before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have nice things in my house.  and i drive a decent car.  and i own all of it.  if i lost my job, i wouldn't have to worry about how i'm going to pay for my car(s).  i wouldn't have to worry about what happens to the furniture when i can't make the payment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wouldn't have credit card companies calling me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but some people think i'm crazy.  they say, "well, you have to have X furniture" -- or, there's no reason you shouldn't have new bedroom furniture if you want it..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, they say, your lifestyle is impractical for a young couple starting out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;take what you have.  maybe your family has a bed you can use until you can save and buy one.  maybe that card table you used in college will work as a kitchen table until you get the money together to buy it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and maybe that car you've had for a while that doesn't look great and isn't cool will last another year -- and even then, you'll buy a used car and pay cash for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Americans spent more money than they earned and spent beyond their savings last year -- for the first time since the Great Depression.  a negative savings rate.  Many Americans are one financial crisis away from bankruptcy.  The average American has nearly $9000 in credit card debt alone -- and then there are car payments and furniture financing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i walked in to buy a replacement dryer and the first thing the sales guy told me was about the financing plans -- i told him i'd be paying in cash, and no, i did not want to "save" 10% by opening a charge account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, here's the larger point:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America is heading for a financial crisis.  Perhaps another depression.  People with debt will be in trouble.  People with cash will be able to use their cash to get richer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be able to buy your foreclosed house, rent it out to pay the mortgage, and make money -- and when the depression is over, you'll have spent your rent money paying for my real estate profits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that furniture you financed? $5000 worth with no payments until 2010?  I'll buy it in cash for $500 after you declare bankruptcy and need the money to get by. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm not even rich.  the truly rich love a depression b/c the cost of goods and services goes down and they have ample cash to distribute and acquire more assets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even if there is no depression ... what happens when you lose your job? or get hurt in an accident? or have a medical emergency? -- do you really want to be worrying about how you're going to pay for that nice car that's sitting in your driveway while you're at home...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, enough of this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to get laid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to hold her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to just sit across the table and gaze into her deep brown eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anything she wanted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she could have from me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114684751763649851?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114684751763649851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114684751763649851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114684751763649851' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114668510981156197</id><published>2006-05-03T12:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T12:38:29.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;It's the shoes ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, it's your shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;simply amazing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you put together an outfit is perfection&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU are the inspiration for bree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cold, calculating, unflappable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;practically begging for attention to be focused on your ankle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;an eye turned up to your shapely calves and warm, tan skin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i make an extra effort just for you -- especially on wednesdays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have you noticed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let me say again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today, it's the shoes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114668510981156197?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114668510981156197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114668510981156197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114668510981156197' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114652805620842891</id><published>2006-05-01T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T07:28:26.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;it was all yellow...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never thought i liked yellow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;until today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way you wore it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the way it complemented your hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the shoes you selected ... with the sparkly buckle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the perfect brown purse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you in yellow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like a tiny canary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a songbird more lovely than any other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your presence made music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your smile created light&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it was all yellow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114652805620842891?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114652805620842891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114652805620842891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114652805620842891' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114649926601698374</id><published>2006-05-01T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T09:01:06.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TV Wisdom &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, here i go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;using a tv show for guidance and wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've really hit a low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i rarely watch grey's anatomy ... but i've liked it the few times i've seen it -- in fact, last night was a record night for me -- 3 consecutive hours of TV virtually uninterrupted ... West Wing, Desperate Housewives, and Grey's Anatomy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at the end of grey's, the narrator quotes a "wise man" who said "you can have anything you want in life if you are willing to give up everything else for it..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how very true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is one thing i continue to obsess about -- to think about - to really, really want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but to have it, to even have the chance to ask for it, i have to give up a lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm afraid that i'm heading for the life of Kevin Spacey's character in American Beauty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't want to be 45 and look back and say -- there was a time and i had a window of opportunity -- but now, here i am... and that window is closed - forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but in order to go through the window i have to make a huge change&lt;br /&gt;i have to give things up&lt;br /&gt;and who knows how things will go on the other side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for a while, i agonized about how i had gotten into this situation.  in some ways, i tried to get out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it won't go away.  and re-tracing my steps won't help me undo them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so now, here i am -- and i have to make a decision.  if i go with what i want, what i long for - if i go for the opportunity, i will have to give a lot up -- i will have to explain to family and others why i did it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and if i stay where i am -- i have to live with and answer to myself -- now and 10 years from now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, the stage is set. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the old rock would stay where he is -- b/c that's what i've done in the past -- and overall, that strategy has worked fairly well for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i don't want "fairly well" anymore.  i want great.  i want a chance for great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where will rock go? what will i do? -- will 2006 really be the year of change and opportunity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time will tell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and soon&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114649926601698374?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114649926601698374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114649926601698374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html#114649926601698374' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114624833030698151</id><published>2006-04-28T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T11:18:50.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;hell yeah&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rock is getting married to vortexia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she said yes and i haven't even been down there yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can't wait to make the trip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of course, i have to get rid of the pesky little problem of me already being married&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but that can be done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, "single" rock -- the one who lives in my alternative universe -- is ready to get married... it will be a lavish affair that vortexia and i will never forget&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vegas, baby!!:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114624833030698151?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114624833030698151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114624833030698151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114624833030698151' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114616880946317230</id><published>2006-04-27T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T13:13:29.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;here's how it's going to go down ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yes, ladies, i did say, "go down" -- one of my favorite (and lost) past-times...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anway, here it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm giving this other guy who vortexia has been waiting on until june.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at which point, i'm heading to her town&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm taking her out to a wonderful dinner&lt;br /&gt;(vortexia, you'll need to wear a little black dress and sexy heels)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll take her for a walk by the river&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'll kiss her by the fountain in the park&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'll get down on one knee, pull a little box out of my pocket, and ask for her hand in marriage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she will see a lovely diamond and my willing eyes and she'll know i can and will make her happy for the rest of her life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the rest... is up to her&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114616880946317230?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114616880946317230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114616880946317230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114616880946317230' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114608247295411891</id><published>2006-04-26T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T13:14:32.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Oh&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hasn't this blog posted yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, damn.  it's getting later in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to get focused on the real priorities of my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like making entries in my blog and getting trick and betcha into blog fights...:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and of course, i must catch up on my murphy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she knows that my secret desire is to be her personal love slave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she could own me in many ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and vortexia... well, what can be said?  if i had the good fortune of being her man, i'd make damn sure no one else could EVER have her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and kel -- you owe me a boat ride...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114608247295411891?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114608247295411891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114608247295411891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114608247295411891' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114598168162305374</id><published>2006-04-25T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T09:14:41.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;um, hello&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it appears our old friend murphy is back from a sex-crazed trip to california.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we're glad she's back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we miss her acerbic wit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we'd welcome the chance to encounter her in person at some time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;maybe at a baseball game this summer?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114598168162305374?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114598168162305374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114598168162305374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114598168162305374' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114589628237817294</id><published>2006-04-24T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T10:15:05.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Rock Archives&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, i was just noticing that i have over 2 years of archives out to the side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lots and lots of material to read and think about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, just leave it there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because in the writing and commenting, i got what i needed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, feel free to enjoy the archives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i may check them out, too&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114589628237817294?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114589628237817294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114589628237817294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114589628237817294' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114555409108171247</id><published>2006-04-20T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T10:28:11.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;420&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today is 4/20 ... and nationally, people are celebrating 420 day -- that is, people who smoke pot, apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, my question is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what does 420 have to do with pot?  i know there is an association between 420 and pot -- but why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can someone please illuminate?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114555409108171247?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114555409108171247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114555409108171247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114555409108171247' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114545725450093568</id><published>2006-04-19T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T07:34:14.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;RFT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, rock-free Tuesdays are the new trend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.  was i ever sick yesterday.  Monday night i was up all night sick.  a little better yesterday though off work -- here i am, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i'm back.  and mentally single.  i think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's like i live in 2 worlds ... in one, i'm a young, professional, single guy who is free and available to pursue lovely women -- (one in particular) -- and in the other world, i'm "married man" -- who comes home to a house where someone else lives -- more of a roommate than a partner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think single me is taking over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i don't think i can post these days without writing about her... about her deep brown eyes and bouncy hair.  about her warm smile.  about how i have yet to find the flaws ... about how i could never have created a more wonderful match for all my desires... about how she makes my heart leap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114545725450093568?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114545725450093568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114545725450093568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114545725450093568' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114529157917316327</id><published>2006-04-17T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T09:32:59.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Monday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had all this stuff to post&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now it's gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't find it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just for trick's edification, tuesday was weird -- i'm still not sure if it was good weird or not -- but it was weird.  and so i made up for missing wednesday by a longer and more detailed thursday post.  but trick still wants more -- and of course, for trick, i'd do most anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today is monday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it follows a long and VERY restful weekend.  A BIG serving of vodka and a dash of Sprite last night made for a VERY sleepy night last night -- i could feel my shoulders relaxing... i could feel tension just leaving my body. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the weekend was full of work -- yard work, mowing, planting, the yard looks amazing -- i watered twice a day every day this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sunday was the rest day -- no church -- oh, and this might be for murphy -- i've decided that church is like a weekly English lit class.  the subject matter is always the same.  it's like a damn poetry explication.  which may explain why i haven't gone in almost a year.  well, that and my wife doesn't go much anymore -- we used to go to separate churches, then i started going to "her" church -- she would NEVER go to mine ... anway, back on point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i keep thinking of a sermon i heard once and maybe more than once, where the preacher kept yelling..."young men will see visions and old men will dream dreams" -- "isn't that amazing?  you see, old men are supposed to see visions -- young men are supposed to dream dreams ... but God is so amazing... he can change things around...."  and then all the people nod in agreement and say "amen" and  stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i think about other sermons -- where some "learned" minister will read some text and then tell the audience what it "really" means and why that's amazing.  -- this whole process should take about one year -- 6 months if you go on wednesday.  The problem is, these preachers keep using the same text -- so, some passages go unnoticed and undiscussed -- and some preachers fail to tell you where the text ends and their personal interpretation begins -- and lots of church attendees would rather be told than read on their own -- and after being dressed up with other dressed up people in uncomfortable pews for an hour or so, they all get back into their glistening cars or beat up trucks and go home or out for lunch and have "family time" and everyone "feels better"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and in most churches, there is also singing. which is sometimes ok, but mostly really crappy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, i know how to read.  I've read the entire Bible.  all by myself.  and i understand what the words mean.  and i also know that you don't have to read the King James Version to be reading the "right text"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, please spare me your amazement about the old men dreaming dreams -- and please stop trying to tell me why it's so damn important.  And instead of that next multi-million dollar building project replete with expensive stained glass and much more comfortable pews and stadium seating, too ... why don't you read some of Jesus' actual words about helping the "least among us."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and instead of praying out loud and making a big show, how about reading more from that Jesus guy about how the truly faithful and spiritual should not make a "show" of prayer, but instead, should pray in a closet alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but don't tell the people that -- the ones in the big church or even the little one -- and yes, i'm tired of hearing sermons about "a big church is God's plan.." OR, "God loves little churches..." ... just stand up and say, "it makes me feel better to say God likes what i'm doing, so that's what i'm going to say.. and if you don't like it this way, there's a church down the street where God likes what you are doing..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, so random rant about religion today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there you go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114529157917316327?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114529157917316327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114529157917316327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114529157917316327' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114494630797769280</id><published>2006-04-13T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T09:38:28.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;(Very) Random Thoughts...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first, i have a new going to work music.  when i get off the interstate and hit the first stoplight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hit #2 on the CD player.  "Sad but True" -- that song kicks ass... it's loud, it's heavy, and if i hit it just right, it ends just as i pull into my parking space.  what a way to go in to the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;second, i walked outside for a minute today.  and there were kids.  on a field trip to the place where i work.  and i remembered.  i used to take field trips to places like this.  i used to dream about working at this type of place.  i spent my life in school preparing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i'm in year 4.  and most days, this is just where i work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but today, with the sun out and the kids visiting, i began to really appreciate it. to think about the opportunity i have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;third, strange things happened Tuesday night. no more elaboration at present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fourth, have i mentioned that she is beautiful.  like a delicate flower?  i am amazed daily.  i could not have created in my imagination a more perfect match ... a more wonderful sight to behold.  every single attribute i find appealing.. she possesses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why i am just now discovering her?  our timing is off ... but the chemistry is on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114494630797769280?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114494630797769280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114494630797769280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114494630797769280' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114478575684694021</id><published>2006-04-11T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T13:02:36.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;TODAY is TUESDAY!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm posting again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's right, people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still posting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;probably b/c trick hasn't shown up for her training appointment yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, i'm well-rested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;come on trick, wear my ass out&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114478575684694021?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114478575684694021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114478575684694021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114478575684694021' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114470603385527314</id><published>2006-04-10T14:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T14:53:53.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Monday post - - by demand!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, people are screaming to hear from the rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and yes, trick, people scream when they get one-on-one rock time, too!:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;braless murphys?  yep, i love 'em!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, today's monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's sunny and warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i feel ... better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114470603385527314?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114470603385527314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114470603385527314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114470603385527314' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114443281276091436</id><published>2006-04-07T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T11:00:12.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;me again&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;first, thanks to murph and trick for their concern&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and murph, thanks for noticing i've been writing more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday was tough for some reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it came back in the car on the way home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then ... when i arrived to an empty home, it was better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this morning, driving, listening to Metallica, even better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i hesitate to even compare what's eating at me to other concerns out there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i also know how i feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today is better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this weekend will be better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess you get to a point where you say that you've put in so much time, that you care about the other person -- so you can't just walk away -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want one thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to be free to ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there may be no takers at first&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or ever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i don't want to let more opportunity pass by&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114443281276091436?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114443281276091436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114443281276091436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114443281276091436' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114435590245358389</id><published>2006-04-06T13:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T13:38:22.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I just lost it...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been coming for some time now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;months&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'd get to that point... that edge of falling off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of breaking down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then stop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or be restrained&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't explain it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm in the process of trying to plan a weekend "away" for my wife and i&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i lost it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in my office&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fortunately, no one else is here now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am overwhelmed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am lost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cannot escape this path&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it tears me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at night, it's all i think about..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when i wake up, it's on my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the music in the car in the morning can't be loud enough to make it go away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now... just now... i lost it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sure, there are moments filled with work that take my mind away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it's there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some situations only exacerbate the pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i don't know what to do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to be good, be honorable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and largely, i have been&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i want what i want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i can't make it go away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been saying in my mind... it's all a big mistake... i made a big mistake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know how to undo it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i lost it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i needed this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to let this out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it still hurts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i can't make it go away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114435590245358389?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114435590245358389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114435590245358389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114435590245358389' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114434858710126110</id><published>2006-04-06T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T11:36:27.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;what's with...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whistling in the bathroom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is this a guy thing ... or do women do this too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, i go to the bathroom, get my business done, wash up, and leave...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what's with going to a public restroom, walking in, and suddenly it's the damn "whistle zone"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;does stupid activity suddently become ok when you go to a public restroom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean, really&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114434858710126110?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114434858710126110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114434858710126110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114434858710126110' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114425344310033001</id><published>2006-04-05T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T09:10:43.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;going down&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to visit trick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if she can tear herself away from that "hung like a horse" guy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;actually, i'm just here posting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to keep up the string of consecutive weekday posts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still taking applications for a personal assistant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;v is probably the lead candidate as she is my husband&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but if murphy needs work, i can find some for her, too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyone here got any experience in retail? -- seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;school is about to be over and business is about to be booming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and no, it's not all adult videos and drinking games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's the real thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all belonging to rock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coming this summer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(though i'm coming sooner...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114425344310033001?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114425344310033001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114425344310033001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114425344310033001' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114417794490187782</id><published>2006-04-04T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T12:12:24.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;back again...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's right, trick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i guess you can say you have my attention ... all this talk of taking your pants off and such&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you take them off... sit back, and relax...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know you'll be pleased&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today is tuesday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm excited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, that kind of excited&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and also ... just excited b/c i may very, very soon have my own damn business&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;working for ME&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyone else need a job?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114417794490187782?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114417794490187782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114417794490187782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114417794490187782' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114409035778795605</id><published>2006-04-03T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T11:52:37.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Monday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and rock is back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in black&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had 5 posts in a row, people -- so i had to have a weekend break&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i'm back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and very curious about what trick was up to in k-ville?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;weekend was GREAT -- very sunny, warm, and wonderful! -- yard work got done -- and i was reminded that really, really hard work makes me very, very horny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all in all, it was a nice weekend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and today's not so bad either&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114409035778795605?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114409035778795605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114409035778795605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_04_01_archive.html#114409035778795605' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114382529554776698</id><published>2006-03-31T09:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T09:14:55.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Day 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is 5 posts in a row!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hold on to yourself, trick!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today is friday, so i'm more relaxed -- but do remind me not to slip again and try vodka on a thursday night when i have to get up friday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't even think i drank that much.  but i felt like i couldn't move this morning -- well, my body would move but my head wouldn't cooperate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway.  i'm here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i know that through the current conflict that is torturing my heart and mind, something good will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know this b/c i can't believe i would be in this situation unless it's for a reason -- there is a lesson to be learned.. and i don't know what it is yet... but i guess i'm learning as i go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh my&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;getting sleepy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;time for some caffeine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114382529554776698?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114382529554776698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114382529554776698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114382529554776698' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114373826661500917</id><published>2006-03-30T08:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T09:04:26.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;and again ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm posting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she is amazing today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more than i can handle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm always so good. so proper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just once&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just once i want to be devious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to be indulgent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to take that chance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it may be soon&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114373826661500917?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114373826661500917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114373826661500917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114373826661500917' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114364772239957268</id><published>2006-03-29T07:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T07:55:22.413-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Relief ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last night, i get home -- my wife has dinner cooked -- and a candle going in the living room --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she had done the laundry -- she said she was trying to let me relax a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i greatly appreciated it... greatly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then, there was relief -- yes, it was self-inflicted. but it was wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amazing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, today -- it's a hard day -- i could certainly use some v time... but it's a good day, too&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114364772239957268?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114364772239957268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114364772239957268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114364772239957268' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114357477327906711</id><published>2006-03-28T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T11:39:33.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Even Harder ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today than yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, i thought it was impossible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it's true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;harder&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114357477327906711?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114357477327906711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114357477327906711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114357477327906711' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114348831911423575</id><published>2006-03-27T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T11:38:39.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A Very Hard Day!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;rock is having a very hard day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no, not a terrible, horrible, very bad day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just a very hard day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;very hard&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114348831911423575?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114348831911423575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114348831911423575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114348831911423575' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114323473585849361</id><published>2006-03-24T13:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T13:12:15.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Put it away!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i mean damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how many fucking personal calls are you getting on your cell phone at work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if there is a desperately urgent call during work hours, someone can call your work number.  but how many fucking people do you have to talk to while you are at WORK?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what the hell is up with putting a work call on hold to answer your personal cell phone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i never turn my cell phone off, i have kids..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what the hell does that mean? they can't call you at work? you don't have a phone in your house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i have to answer if it's my daughter..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really? so she can tell you she failed her math test?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what happened before cell phones -- i'll tell you -- we concocted schemes to deceive our parents and had a good story ready for them by the time they picked our little asses up from school -- we talked to our friends in person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, i have a cell phone.  i keep it on when i'm away from the office and when i'm traveling to and from work -- and sometimes when i'm out on the weekends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but it's not a fucking appendage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now, why can't you find a quieter way to waste time at work ... like blogging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or having sex with murphy on your bosses conference room table?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114323473585849361?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114323473585849361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114323473585849361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114323473585849361' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114314517245212320</id><published>2006-03-23T12:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T12:19:32.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Thursday ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;used to be for posting HNR ... but it's still cold and it's almost April&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, when summer comes, i might too! ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;umm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm at work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i should be working&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but whatever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'd love to be in seattle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;especially when spring really comes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i like today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;something's going to happen -- maybe trick will be there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and have i mentioned how happy i am that murphy has found a man... even if he is called melissa...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wonder if he realizes that she inspired a whole line of dolls-- the Murphy-Hot Bitch! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114314517245212320?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114314517245212320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114314517245212320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114314517245212320' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114290320621098796</id><published>2006-03-20T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T17:06:46.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The answer is yes ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before you ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the answer is yes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, you caught me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, i can't resist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, it was you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, in my dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, every night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, your kiss would capture me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, your looks entrance me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, you can possess me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, i'll give it all to you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, all of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, for all of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, every day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, from now on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, you can own me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yes, when you are mine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before you ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before you glance again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before your mind wonders&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before your heart skips the next beat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before you ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the answer is YES&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114290320621098796?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114290320621098796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114290320621098796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114290320621098796' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114261392785566689</id><published>2006-03-17T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T08:45:27.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Please Stop ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stop being so beautiful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stop being so brilliant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stop being so wonderful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stop being there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;almost isn't enough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;almost i can't stand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;almost every day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;almost out of control&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all i want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is all i can't have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just one thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114261392785566689?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114261392785566689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114261392785566689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114261392785566689' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114246251607351142</id><published>2006-03-15T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T14:41:56.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Bree's Wisdom...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why i'm just now posting this ... probably because Sunday I was watching the show and on my second glass of my now favorite drink -- vodka and sprite...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway -- on desperate housewives, Bree tells her son, "the opposite of love is not hate.  it's indifference."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;amazingly true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bree is/was right (and HOT)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;indifference&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's the word&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114246251607351142?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114246251607351142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114246251607351142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114246251607351142' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114244330490775301</id><published>2006-03-15T09:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T09:21:44.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What a difference ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a day makes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after Saturday's explosion, i revisited the issue on Sunday .. then, took Monday off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how pleasantly surprised i was to arrive home last night ... having had only one day between orgrasms... and realizing my wife was not going to be home for at least an hour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, i took matters into my own hands again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and what a delight ... the single day off made the experience wonderful, but not desperate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks to all of you who provided fantasy elements for me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114244330490775301?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114244330490775301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114244330490775301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114244330490775301' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114227193673632417</id><published>2006-03-13T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T09:45:36.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;one week&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's been almost one week since i've posted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;also of note&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this past saturday i realized it had been one FULL WEEK -- SEVEN DAYS -- since i last had an orgasm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, as my wife went to bed early, i opted to stay up and watch TV ... and took care of my little problem... which quickly turned into a big problem ... which after a while turned into a HUGE mess... i don't think i've gone more than 5 days in a row without an orgasm EVER ... so you can imagine the sweetness of the release (and sheer volume, too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's all for now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;life is back in balance&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114227193673632417?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114227193673632417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114227193673632417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114227193673632417' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114176361378336383</id><published>2006-03-07T12:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T12:33:33.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;amazing day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yesterday was an amazing day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, it was a normal day until about 6 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but after that, it was amazing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more details may come later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and more amazing things may be happening&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114176361378336383?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114176361378336383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114176361378336383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114176361378336383' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114166287470222546</id><published>2006-03-06T08:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T08:34:34.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Million Dollar Room!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;No, not at the Million Dollar Hotel&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, here's the scenario.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone tells you that you can have $1 million.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it's going to be kept in a glass room that's easy to find and see ... for one year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there is a code to get in the room.  You will get the code at the end of the year.  but the keypad is there for all to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyone can try and access the room by guessing the code.  or by breaking in if they can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;however, if you attempt to guess the code, break-in, or otherwise access the room, the million dollars will no longer be available to you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;remember, though, that if you wait until all circumstances align, and no one else has accessed the money, it's all yours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what do you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114166287470222546?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114166287470222546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114166287470222546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_archive.html#114166287470222546' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114116395412344837</id><published>2006-02-28T13:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T13:59:14.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;2/3 of the Rock!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a new study on work patterns shows that American office workers complete 2/3 of their assigned work each day, down from 3/4 in 1994.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the decrease is attributed to the Internet -- ironically added to offices to speed up work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, your "rock-time" reading is probably cutting into your work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and my posting is definitely keeping me from finishing something&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OR,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people are becoming very, very computer proficient and getting a lot more shit done during the day... and then they get assigned more mundane tasks and when they become interminably bored, they simply revert to internet time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, you're getting 2/3 of the rock... which, by the way, is still quite wonderful&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114116395412344837?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114116395412344837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114116395412344837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114116395412344837' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114072656221746383</id><published>2006-02-23T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T12:29:22.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;will you have sex with me?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next time i see her, that's what i'm going to ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b/c screw the bullshit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;skip the games&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;let's get to the point&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, will you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114072656221746383?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114072656221746383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114072656221746383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114072656221746383' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114063329944094913</id><published>2006-02-22T10:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T10:34:59.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;get a piece...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;of the rock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh, and by the way -- just because you are thinking something, doesn't mean you should say it out loud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back to the post&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm available for devouring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;get a piece&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114063329944094913?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114063329944094913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114063329944094913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114063329944094913' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114021235285902411</id><published>2006-02-17T13:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T13:39:12.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Still beautiful...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah, so i had a bit of a bad day on wednesday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a breakdown of sorts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i'm back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not going to let one day -- one moment -- get me down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not going to forget what's out there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to focus on doing what i can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to focus on being what i can&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm not just going to sit on my ass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to make things happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like i said at the beginning of the year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm rock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm ready for change and challenge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;go ahead, try and fuck with me... ( i mean, really, try... b/c you know you want it!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114021235285902411?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114021235285902411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114021235285902411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114021235285902411' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-114004287455428958</id><published>2006-02-15T14:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T14:34:34.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;happy v-day...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, happy v-day recovery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i read somewhere that the time right after new year's is a time when there are a lot of break-ups -- the holidays are over, people are ready for a fresh start, and they want to get it over with before valentine's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which consequently makes valentine's a sad day for many&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i actually had a relatively pleasant valentine's day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i took my wife to a restaurant we hadn't been to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bought her a gift certificate for a spa treatment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gave her a card that was similar to the one i had given her 9 years ago -- when we were in college -- the card that started the relationship that became our marriage... the first open gesture of my feelings toward her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in contrast to other holidays, she actually provided me with some very thoughtful gifts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i truly appreciated her efforts and let her know it (praising her when she's good can only help, right?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then today came&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i realized&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm still doing what i've always done -- still being wonderful to her -- still going to work every day -- still wondering how many more years i will live in which i have sex 4-6 times total -- still thinking about how i want to feel wanted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and thinking -- sure, last night was better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but will it last?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or will she revert back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and who fucking cares&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;because the bottom line:  i'm not happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm empty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm spent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in my mind, i'm in another place... i go there b/c it keeps me from focusing on what's right here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but that has to stop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it stopped for a moment today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i nearly cried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which made me happy b/c it means i can still feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to feel hurt, pain, happiness, wanting, desire...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to feel again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want to feel again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-114004287455428958?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114004287455428958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/114004287455428958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#114004287455428958' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-113984307515364209</id><published>2006-02-13T07:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T07:04:47.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;You're beautiful ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's time to face the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never be with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-113984307515364209?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113984307515364209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113984307515364209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#113984307515364209' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-113932913656234128</id><published>2006-02-07T08:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T08:18:56.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Chocolate&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is beautiful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is brilliant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the glasses that add distinction to her face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to the perfectly chosen suit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to the delightfully smart shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a small box of chocolates will find its way to her desk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she won't know who sent them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but she will smile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-113932913656234128?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113932913656234128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113932913656234128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#113932913656234128' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-113890323938772156</id><published>2006-02-02T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T10:00:39.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I wonder ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she likes being spanked...?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-113890323938772156?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113890323938772156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113890323938772156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#113890323938772156' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6420752.post-113880501902786185</id><published>2006-02-01T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T06:43:39.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Wearing a Suit!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are going to wear a suit, you need to know HOW to wear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't wear a three-button suit everyday with only the top button buttoned -- you look like a dumbass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on a three button suit, button either 1) ONLY the middle button or 2) the top and middle buttons ... you may think it's cool to button only the top button, but it's wrong and looks stupid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEVER, ever button the bottom button on your suit -- it's for decoration, not for buttoning -- if you have  a standard 2-button suit, only the top button gets buttoned ... buttoning both makes you look like a high school freshman going to his first dance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;finally, never walk around with your double-breasted suit unbuttoned -- 2-button and 3-button suits can be unbuttoned and look fine, buttoning for more formal situations and/or presentation ... a double-breasted suit has extra fabric that looks awkward just waving in the wind when you walk -- button it up -- when buttoned, i think a double-breasted suit creates a strong, powerful look... so why not?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that's my lesson for today&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6420752-113880501902786185?l=hardasarock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113880501902786185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6420752/posts/default/113880501902786185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hardasarock.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#113880501902786185' title=''/><author><name>rock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04254649850038606499</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></entry></feed>
